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gravelyhumerus · 4 years ago

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Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter Seventeen

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

Exams, pizza, board games... what more could a girl ask for?

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty

“That was a lot of chess,” Emily complained, nearly chugging her latte as she and Spencer left the coffee shop.

She pulled her beanie onto her head and braced herself for the snow as the taller boy held the door open for her. Emily almost slipped on the slushy tile floor on her way out but managed to keep her balance.

“Fifteen of the multiple-choice questions to be precise,” Spencer replied. The salted sidewalk crunched under their feet as they made their way across campus.

“I’m so glad it’s finally over,” she admitted. “I think I’ve had enough philosophy to last me a lifetime.”

“I’m enrolled in ‘Minds and Machines’ next semester,” he said. “I think I might try and get a double minor this time around.”

“What’s the goal? Three PhDs by the time you’re 24?” Emily quipped.

He was well on his way, having completed his engineering degree before she managed to graduate high school. He was 17, only two years younger than her, but somehow seemed like a kid. A kid with more education crammed into his brain than she could ever master in her life.

“Something like that,” he replied with a smile. His hair was getting long and he had tied it back during the exam. With last names starting with P and R, they were seated near each other in the large exam hall, and she glanced over at him as he fussed with his hair.

They stopped at the red light, watching as the cars and busses wooshed past them, sending the slush flying into the snowbanks. It had been a fairly sunny day, but bitterly cold. Now, the sun was setting and the campus was bathed in a warm golden glow. The snow had fallen the night before, leaving fluffy white snow covering their campus.

Emily had spent most of the day holed up in the library with Spencer, with him quizzing her on fallacies and philosophers. With his eidetic memory, he only really needed to read the material once. Earlier in the semester, she did feel useful when it came to editing each other’s essays. He always got bogged down with detail, word vomiting everything he knew, and she helped him with his structure and argumentation.

More studying awaited her back in her room. She rubbed at the back of her neck as she thought about the upcoming evening spent hunched over her desk studying criminal justice, a subject that left her questioning her degree half the time as she was forced to learn about the muddled ethics of justice.

That week, she had survived on minimal sleep, eating mostly bagels and coffee to sustain her. Her body was protesting with each step, and she had suffered from a constant tension headache for as long as she remembered. At least her college had that golden retriever walk around at the library yesterday, she thought to herself, sarcastically. Animal therapy definitely relieved all her stress. As if petting a dog for five minutes would fix the anxiety of finals season.

Two more exams, she reminded herself. You’ll make it.

Despite this mantra, Emily was conflicted. While finals were killing her, the end of the semester also meant winter break. Emily would be forced to go “home” for the holidays. For most college students, that meant going back to their respective towns and being surrounded by their loved ones. Emily, on the other hand, didn’t have anywhere she called home. Last winter break, her mom had at least been in DC, and Emily was able to catch up with some of her international school friends who were in the city. This time, her mom was stationed in London, and Emily knew she’d be roped back into her old life. She didn’t know anyone there and knew most of her break would be spent alone.

The last place she had called home was Rome, and now that was tarnished by her complicated past with that city.

Emily was good at being alone. Being an only child of a workaholic single mom meant she learned to keep her own company. She read a lot. She got good at running away, escaping her nannies, and skirting security in order to roam free. She’d be fine.

The problem was that Emily had gotten used to this. She rarely spent a moment alone these days. Whether it was walking to class with Spencer, or Hotch, or Derek, getting lunch with the team, surprise coffee dates with Penelope and spending almost every evening with her girlfriend, she hadn’t been left alone in ages. She didn’t miss it.

Their residence building had a warm yellow light shining out of the windows and a soft red brick facade. In the summer, ivy grew up the south facing side but in the winter, the ledges were covered in snow and the stone steps were slippery. She trudged forward, excited for the warm embrace of the dorm.

Spencer had other plans. He reached into the garish yellow plastic newspaper box that was stationed next to their doorway and retrieved this week’s newspaper.

“Come on Reid,” Emily said. “Just subscribe to the newsletter or something like the rest of us.”

He held up the cover to her in surprise. Usually it reported the news of a recent sports victory, or a change of policy announced by the administrators, or even a fun event held on campus. Sometimes there was even a dramatic protest or an important speaker coming to campus. But this week, the headline surprised her. In large font printed across the page read: “Multiple student politicians fired amid financial scandal.”

“That sounds bad,” Emily said. It did seem way more dramatic on newsprint than on a website, so maybe Spencer was onto something with his affinity for the printed word.

Grabbing a copy for herself, she then walked inside to escape the cold. Warm air greeted them as they entered their residence hall, and both students kicked the snow off their boots before trudging up the stairs. They read as they walked, but the route to their rooms was already muscle memory, so neither worried about stumbling on their way.

Normally, Emily wouldn’t willingly touch this sort of student politics with a ten foot pole. Sure, she was involved with the Criminology council, but there was a difference between the kind of person interested in petitioning for better accessibility to faculty events or running a bake sale, and the kind of students to embezzle thousands of student dollars like what the current student government executive seemed to be accused of doing.

She quickly ran her eyes down the page, the contents jogging a memory from Halloween, of Hotch and JJ discussing the early stirrings of said scandal.

“You know,” Spencer said, “I’m surprised they got a lot of this information, it’s notoriously difficult to file FOIAs for student governments, as they’re technically private corporations. So the fact that they got these files means that this is a much bigger scandal than one might assume.”

Corruption, bribery, embezzlement, nepotism. All words that jogged memories of hiding in the corner of political fundraisers, overhearing the worst of politics from too-drunk elites sipping on their wine and munching on charcuterie.

“I hate politics,” Emily said, stuffing her copy of the paper into her bag.

“I find it interesting. It’s basically a microcosm of our current political climate. In fact, I have subscribed to the print edition of fifteen student papers in the region,” Spencer said, “I like to keep informed on the coverage of student issues, and compare them to our own.”

“Why?!” Emily said with a laugh. “You know you can just look them up online.”

Spencer gave her a withering look, and she should have known better than asking about his aversion to tech. He loathed having to use his computer, as the LCD screens apparently gave him a headache. Penelope even gave him a pair of blue light glasses to attempt to alleviate the issue.

Then, he began to speak, at length, about the dying printed news industry and why print copies were better for understanding than screens et cetera. She made sure to nod and hum at appropriate points, but her mind kept wandering.

She wondered if her girlfriend was in her room. Emily missed her any time they were apart and she yearned to hold her in her arms once again. But she shouldn’t. She needed to work. She had too much to do. Her grades had slipped, slightly, this semester. Everyone warned her about how college would be harder than high school, but no one ever warned her how much the expectations were raised in second year.

Two more exams. She clutched her coffee tighter. She’d rather do anything else besides study at this point. Her body was exhausted, her mind frazzled. She wondered if she could even manage to get through a chapter of revision before conking out on her desk.

As she said goodbye to Spencer and struggled with her keys that were tangled up in their corresponding university-branded lanyard, JJ’s door opened.

“Hey girlfriend,” JJ greeted her, sounding way too much like a straight girl greeting her platonic friend for Emily’s taste. She gave her a pass because it sounded cute in her voice.

“JJ!” Emily said, somehow surprised to see her despite the fact that she lived right across the hall. Her girlfriend was dressed in sweatpants and an oversized sweater, with her straight hair tucked behind her ears and her face bare of make up. Her face was lit up with a smile, and Emily rushed towards her, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

“Hi JJ,” Spencer said as Emily and JJ kissed.

When they pulled apart, JJ gave Spencer a smile as a greeting and asked them how their exam went.

Spencer babbled about their Logic exams for a minute or two, as Emily basked in JJ’s presence. She grabbed onto her hand and found that it was so much hotter than her own and wasn’t sure if she held on tight because she was cold, or if she had missed her girlfriend.

“I’m just glad it’s over,” Emily said. “I never want to hear about fallacies again.”

Spencer seemed to want to say something, but fell silent at Emily’s tired expression.

“Wanna come in for a bit?” JJ whispered in Emily’s ear. Apparently she said so a touch too loud because Spencer replied instead.

“Sure!” he said, and then walked into JJ and Penelope’s room.

“I should really study,” Emily tried to argue, but a single glance into JJ’s deep, blue eyes had Emily melting.

JJ’s room was much messier than Emily had last seen it. Both desks showed clear markers of the ongoing exams, with papers and books piled high. In addition to this was an assortment of pillows strewn all over the floor.

“You guys are back early!” JJ said, after checking her watch, “I thought it was a two hour exam?”

“I finished in an hour,” Spencer said, “and Emily only needed an extra half hour on top of my time.”

Damn straight, Emily thought, feeling somewhat competitive with the boy-genius despite herself.

She really should study, but the prospect of seeing her girlfriend outweighed the desire to sit hunched over a textbook for another evening.

Emily and Spencer kicked off their boots, placing them neatly on the mat by the door before peeling their jackets off and hanging them on the back of her door. Emily wasn’t sure if she liked winter. Whenever her mother was stationed in the Middle East she yearned for snow, but now that she was experiencing the Nor’easter for the first time, the desert sounded like a good time.

“Well there goes my plan,” JJ said, blowing her hair out of her face with a puff of air.

Spencer flopped onto Penelope’s neatly-made bed, collapsing into the assortment of pink pillows while carefully keeping his take-away cup upright. Emily sat down next to JJ on her bed.

“Your plan?” Emily asked.

“Yeah,” JJ said, sounding a bit shy. “I had this whole plan to make up a blanket fort here for you, and I would surprise you with it when you walked in.’”

JJ gestured with her hands at the mess. Blankets and pillows were strewn about, and a bundle of fairy lights were laying in the middle of the floor.

“Then you came back early,” JJ concluded. “Spence, I thought you’d keep her occupied longer!”

“You didn’t tell me that,” he replied. Spencer looked quizzically at her, shrugged, then took another sip of his coffee.

“I just wanted us to have a cute date night,” JJ admitted. “I know you’re so stressed, and you deserve a break.”

Emily grabbed her girlfriend’s moving hands and held them in her own. She felt overwhelmed. JJ was so… thoughtful. Caring. Attentive. So many things that were absolutely foreign to Emily. No one had ever tried to impress her like this.

“It’s okay,” Emily said. “We don’t need anything special to have a cute date night. You’re cute enough.”

JJ gave Emily a goofy smile in response.

“Okay,” JJ said. “If you say so.”

“You’re building a blanket fort?” Spencer asked. “I actually have some experience with blanket fort architecture.”

“You do?” JJ asked, raising her eyebrows skeptically.

“Of course,” he replied, seeming almost offended that she questioned him. “It sparked my interest in engineering. I wanted to overcome the problem of chair-tippage when it came to building the structure, so I devised a system of counter-weights that I found increased the structural integrity by 53%. My mom always told me that I could be an architect, but I thought the sciences better suited my intellect.”

“Oh?” Emily asked, genuinely interested. How would someone measure the structural integrity of a blanket fort?

“Actually, I have some blueprints. Let me grab them,” he said, standing up and making a move for the door.

“Of course you have blueprints,” JJ laughed.

“I should probably go feed Gideon, anyway. I’ll be right back!” Spencer said. Before closing the door behind him.

“Gideon?” Emily asked.

“His fish,” JJ said, “the one he won at the fair. It’s named after his professor, I think.”

She shrugged. The kid was weird, they tended to just accept that.

“I guess Spencer’s joining us on date night,” JJ said. “Sorry. I know you’re stressed and probably want to be studying, but I thought we’d order pizza and just have one night off. Just us. And Spencer.”

JJ planted a firm kiss on Emily’s lips, leaving her dazed and blushing.

“Relaxing sounds perfect,” Emily said, pulling her girlfriend closer to her. “I can’t believe it’s already exams. This semester has flown by. Soon it’ll be winter break, and I won’t get to see you.”

“I can’t imagine you not being right across the hall,” JJ said. “Who will give me kisses when I want them?”

JJ kissed Emily, sucking on Emily’s bottom lip slightly before pulling apart to look at her.

“I know you’re joking, but I hope you’re not kissing anybody else, no matter the circumstances.”

With that established, Emily pounced on her girlfriend, pushing her onto her bed and kissing her deeply. She intertwined her fingers in the blonde locks that were splayed out in a golden halo and breathed in deep, taking in the warm scent of the lilac candle that burnt on her night side table.

All her worries melted away at JJ’s touch. Emily’s brain was filled with the feeling of JJ’s lips on hers, with her lithe form beneath her. Exams, student politics and thoughts of home were wiped away, and her stress faded into background noise.

JJ’s pliant form writhed under Emily’s, her hands sneaking below Emily’s sweater and dancing over her back. They deepened the kiss until they were making out like teenagers in JJ’s dorm with the door still open a crack.

This was how Spencer, accompanied by Derek, found them when they pushed open the door with blanket fort blueprints and bags of potato chips in hand.

Spencer made a surprised noise, which made Emily aware of his return. She jumped up and pulled apart from JJ with a dark red blush gracing her cheeks.

“Woah there ladies,” Derek said with a laugh. “Keep it in your pants!”

“Guys! I was gone for five minutes!” Spencer whined.

Emily stood up awkwardly, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she watched JJ sit up and pat her hair down in a huff.

“Sorry,” Emily grumbled, not really meaning it. She would never be sorry for kissing JJ, but she was sorry for the awkwardness

“Pretty boy dragged me down the hall,” Derek said in explanation. He had Spencer’s rolled-up fort plans in his hand, and lightly smacked Emily’s head with it, making a comedic thwap noise as it made contact. “Hope you weren’t in the middle of something?”

“Only JJ’s legs,” Emily quipped to everyone’s surprise, even her own. JJ hit her jokingly and blushed.

“Hey!” Derek laughed, “Let’s keep this PG!”

“You called?” The voice of Penelope Garcia—PG if you will—rang out from the hallway, and within seconds JJ’s room was filled with just about all their friends standing around in a slightly awkward silence: JJ, Emily, Spencer and Derek were joined by Penelope with Hotch in tow.

The latter two of them had grown closer recently and walked into the room with white shopping bags with the walrus logo printed on the side, looking like they had just returned from out in the cold. Penelope and Hotch going thrifting together, that’s new! Emily thought to herself and decided to file the observation for later. The image of Hotch watching Penelope’s customary fashion show was enough to make her laugh under her breath.

“We’re building a blanket fort,” Spencer announced, changing the subject to the task at hand. “Are you guys helping?”

“Oh you know I will, boy genius,” Penelope said with an excited smile.

Emily looked over to her girlfriend. So much for date night.

———

Without much questioning about why they were building a blanket fort, the team got to work. In college, sometimes things just happened. Impromptu blanket forts were par the course. In their defense, any excuse to not spend the evening burying their heads in textbooks was a welcome reprieve.

It started with just a few blankets draped in the space between JJ and Penelope’s beds, but with Spencer’s instruction, a verifiable architectural marvel began to take shape.

While Emily knew that Penelope would be all gung ho for this sort of project, it was certainly amusing to see Hotch in his khakis and dress shirt crawling around on the floor like a child with the rest of them, tying off blankets and very seriously maneuvering the different parts of the structure.

Sheets were draped here and there, tied together to form ceilings and walls. Two chairs stolen from the common room, loaded with backpacks on the seat for support acted as the entrance to the fort.

While it was crawling space only, Emily had to note that there was a sense of awe when you emerged into the open space of the main fort-area. It was surprisingly big, fitting all six of them with ease. The key to the whole design was a curtain rod Hotch had stolen from the boys shower that lifted the roof up.

The design was strangely reminiscent of Baroque architecture, which she was sure was due to Spencer’s designs. This was a fact that Emily kept to herself. She always tried to rein in the ‘I lived abroad’ conversation points so her childhood could remain under minimal scrutiny.

Emily’s exhaustion transformed into excitement as she relished the time hanging out with her friends. Music played from Penelope’s computer as they worked, they began to work as a cohesive group, each member doing their share. It was nice to do something besides sit at her desk and obsess over memorizing facts and statistics, or figuring out the proper argumentation for an essay on a subject. Making sure that a bunch of blankets didn’t crash onto them was treated with the utmost seriousness, and the whole group was focused with intense concentration at their own tasks.

Spencer did, in fact, have literal sketches of blanket forts in his notebooks, but the details of which were fairly incomprehensible to her. While she believed that he did the math, his chicken scratch was just about indecipherable, and his drawing was little more than a few shapes on a page. Despite this, it was laid out on the centre of the dorm-room floor for them to reference.

At one point, as Emily stood on JJ’s wheely chair, she feared that the fort had all come crashing down as she lost her balance and grabbed at the blankets to stop her fall before tumbling onto Derek with a yelp.

“Sorry,” she muttered as she climbed back onto her feet and fought off the blanket that had wrapped her in a shroud.

She flinched as she realized she had ruined it all, a pit forming in her stomach. She looked at her friends in concern, but instead of yelling at her for her mistake, or shunning her for ruining it for the rest of them, they smiled at her and helped her up.

“It’s okay!” Spencer said cheerfully. “I know exactly how to reinforce that wall.”

“You okay, Emily?” Hotch asked, righting the wheely chair as JJ fretted over her.

“I’m good,” she answered, still confused as to why they weren’t mad at her.

Instead of making a big deal over the set back, they went back to work. Soon, the fort filled out and it returned to its former glory. Arguably, better than it was because they had draped fairy lights throughout the inside, making the space glow with a warm orange light.

Inside was filled with pillows and big enough for all of them to sit comfortably so it was a comfy lounge space. It was cozy and warm, the antithesis of the bitterly cold night air outside.

“You know what?” Hotch said. “This is a damned good fort, Reid.”

The group muttered in consensus. They all had piled into the space, and as the excitement wore off, Emily was wondering what happened next. What does one do in a blanket fort? She had vague memories of building one in her room, but she had just sat inside and read a book.

“I hear the RA’s storage room has a ton of board games,” Penelope said. “They pull them out for socials and stuff.”

“That’s all well and good, but we’re not asking Strauss to let us in,” Derek argued. “I still think she thinks we were responsible for that fire alarm last week. She’s been giving me the evil eye ever since.”

“Who said we had to tell her?” Emily said. “We could just… borrow… them…”

“I mean, they are for us to use, anyway.” JJ’s eyes had a mischievous look in them as she looked at Emily.

“That is true,” Hotch said, the scowl that was usually a fixture on his face turning to a smirk.

“That’s stealing, guys,” Spencer warned, as if they didn’t already know that.

“We’ll give them back,” Emily said with a shrug. “Come on!”

Penelope led the way to a dark wooden door on the main floor, it was labelled simply “Storage,” but the computer science student assured them that it was where the RA’s stored all of their supplies.

“It’s locked,” Penelope huffed.

“Do you have a bobby pin?” Emily asked her in a hushed voice. She wouldn’t have gotten this far if she hadn’t learned how to pick simple door locks. She had trouble with deadbolts but a simple latch she could probably do within a couple of minutes.

The blonde pulled a hot pink bobby pin out of her perfectly curled hair. Emily snapped it into two, bending one end into a longer L-shape. Sticking that into the bottom of the lock and holding it in place, she used the other side to feel for the pins that held the lock in place.

Emily could feel all eyes on her as she confidently knelt in front of the doorknob, the group keeping watch for her as she worked. No one questioned how or why Emily knew how to do this. She had her reasons.

This definitely broke all sorts of residence rules and if they got caught, they knew they’d get into shit, but no one seemed to care that much. They just wouldn’t get caught.

After a couple minutes, Emily’s hands began to sweat. What if she couldn’t do this anymore? She tried to centre herself. She had made it through infinitely more stressful situations in the past. It was the eyes of her friends on her that made her nervous. She was finally accepted by a group, and she desperately didn’t want to let them down.

Then, it clicked, and she was able to turn the brass knob easily. Emily made a noise of excitement, got to her feet and yanked the door open.

Instead of an empty storage closet, on the other side of the door was Erin Strauss, their RA, in a passionate embrace with David Rossi. Her shirt was unbuttoned and he was in the middle of sucking on her neck.

“Dave?!” Hotch called out, startling the couple.

Both groups stood stock-still, neither knowing what to say. While Emily had hid the bobby pins, she wasn’t sure who was in more trouble, them for breaking into the room or their RA for using the space for unofficial purposes.

The room was small and cramped, with a pile of poster board mostly obscuring the one small window that lit the space. Strauss had been hoisted onto the desk, her legs straddling the other student. Emily could see a shelf filled with the board games stacked on the left side of the room, but they seemed unimportant at the moment. While Emily had known about their illicit love affair, she had never expected to see it in action.

“Hey guys,” Rossi said after a moment, his unwavering confidence carrying on to this moment as he pulled apart from Strauss, who was furiously buttoning up her shirt and trying to sort herself out.

“What are you all doing in here?” she demanded, standing up and putting her hands on her hips. “This room’s meant for RA’s only.”

“Well,” Emily said, startled by her own audacity, “Dave isn’t an RA so…”

“We just came for some board games,” JJ said in her most diplomatic voice, despite clearly wanting to laugh at the situation, “then we’ll be off.”

“Take them and go,” the RA said in a strangled voice, her face beet-red and as she avoided eye contact like it was the plague.

Clearly not as embarrassed as Strauss, Rossi simply smirked, collected a few board games into his arms off of the shelf, then deposited them into Emily’s arms.

Realizing that given the circumstances, they couldn’t be picky with their choices, the stunned group thanked him then scurried away, back upstairs with their loot. The silence remained until they made it back to their floor, where they all burst into laughter.

“What on earth was that?!” Derek exclaimed.

“Rossi and Strauss,” Spencer muttered.

Emily and JJ made eye contact, remembering all those weeks ago when they had caught their friend emerging from the RA’s room down the hall in the middle of the night. They had known that Rossi and Strauss had hooked up that night, but had no idea that it was a whole relationship.

“I see it,” Hotch commented. “I mean, I don’t know your RA too well, but Rossi likes a woman with authority.”

Derek and Emily fake-gagged in an exaggerated manner at the comment.

“I think I need to bleach my eyeballs after that display,” Emily muttered.

“Ooo-kay!” JJ said, pointedly changing the subject. “It seems like we have most of the pieces to Clue… I think we could manage a game of that. We also have Scrabble, Yahtzee and Snakes and Ladders. Uh… also a pack of cards.”

“At least it’s not chess,” Emily said, thinking about her seemingly endless exam that afternoon.

“Agreed,” Spencer said.

“We do not have chess, no,” JJ said with a quizzical laugh.

———

After ordering a couple of pizzas to the dorm, they all settled in to play a board game. After a few minutes of debate, they decided to play Clue (or Cluedo as Emily continuously referred to it as). The board was laid out: it was vintage, with a teal and yellow colour scheme and some scuffs and rips showing its age. In their blanket fort, they were seated in a circle, all secretly looking at their Clue cards.

“Can I be Professor Plum?” Spencer asked before they had even gotten the pieces out of the box.

“Of course pretty boy,” Derek said, “I’ll take Mr. Green.”

“My sculpted god of thunder looks excellent in green,” Penelope flirted, choosing the white piece for herself.

“Did you know that in the original version of Clue, Mr Green was a Reverend, but they changed his name for American audience because they believed that the American public would object to a parson as a murder suspect?”

“Good thing you’re on our trivia team, Reid,” Hotch replied.

Emily was Miss Scarlet, of course, and was seated right next to JJ, who had chosen to portray Mrs. Peacock. Hotch claimed the remaining piece: Colonel Mustard.

Emily loved board games. Her nanny in France, who was a kindly elderly woman that Emily only knew as “Madame,” would play with her each Sunday after church. She has hazy memories from that time, but the warm glow of sunlight streaming into their Parisian apartment as she learned how to play Cluedo. Emily would always try to cheat, but knew better than to try to do so with her immensely observant girlfriend seated to her left, JJ’s hand resting casually on Emily’s thigh.

She looked at her cards and grinned. She had been dealt her own character, she noted, as Miss Scarlet’s name was printed in bold on the top of her first card. It felt weirdly validating to know that she herself was innocent. Also in her hands were the cards for the candlestick and pistol, as well as the observatory. She marked these off of her card and tried to gauge her opponents' reactions.

JJ was checking her phone with her cards face down, tracking the pizza’s arrival. Spencer was sprawled back, his long legs taking up way more room than was necessary, jotting down notes on some scrap paper. Presumably some statistics and probability for the possibilities of the cards that were sealed in the envelope in the centre of the board. Penelope smiled over at Derek and flirtatiously tried to sneak a peek at his hand.

After the initial rounds being dedicated to moving around the board, Emily finally made it into her first room: the lounge. There, she decided on her first suggestion.

“I suggest,” Emily said, in her most dramatic, formal voice, which was particularly suited to the role of Miss Scarlet, “that Mrs. Peacock committed this heinous crime in the Lounge with-” she hurriedly grabbed the candlestick, “the candlestick!”

She knew that it wasn’t the correct weapon, but using it would narrow it down to someone ruling out either JJ’s character or the lounge as the scene of the crime.

“Moi?!” JJ said, sounding almost offended at the accusation. “Your own girlfriend?!”

Emily grinned evilly at her, but internally she felt giddy. It was the first time she heard JJ use that word in front of their friends. JJ moved her piece into the Lounge. The others chuckled lightly at their antics.

“You have no alibi for the crime, Mrs. Peacock,” Emily said, “and I am merely making a suggestion.”

JJ glared at her, but said nothing. Emily turned to Derek, who was seated at her left.

“What do I do?” Derek asked, looking around the room, slightly confused.

“Do you have any of those cards?” Hotch asked.

“Yeah-” Derek said, moving to show his hand.

“No!” Penelope stopped him. “Just show one of your cards to Emily if you can prove her suggestion was wrong.”

He made an “o” with his mouth and sneakily showed Emily the Lounge card. Emily noted that, and that it was Derek’s card. Mrs. Peacock had yet to be proven innocent, and Emily gave JJ a suspicious glance.

She loved this game.

As the game progressed, Emily noted a few things about her opponents. A part of Emily was profiling her friends subconsciously, reading each of their strategies like a book.

Penelope always seemed to luck out on her dice rolls, covering a lot of terrain and gathering information like it was a cup of tea. But, she seemed to take it personally when someone accused Mrs. White of having killed Mr. Boddy and gasped every time someone made that suggestion.

Hotch seemed to take the game very seriously, and was at it like he was an actual police officer solving crime. But, it didn’t seem that he completely understood all of the rules, and definitely hadn’t played before, so he spent most of his turn grumbling as he skimmed the rule pamphlet.

Spencer, on the other hand, had memorized the rules, common strategies and probabilities of the different outcomes, so Hotch often looked over to him nervously as the boy wrote longhand equations in the notebook that he pulled out of his bag for the very occasion.

Derek also had never played before, and regularly made ‘accusations’ rather than ‘suggestions’ when he entered a room, frustrating Spencer to no end. But, Derek was smart and seemed to be picking it up as he went along. That was until he made the same suggestion twice in a row, both times making Hotch show him the exact same card. He asked Reid endless questions about specific rules, and more than once he made the boy double check in the rule book when Derek tried to make a rather unorthodox move.

JJ seemed to be the only one genuinely trying to have fun. She munched on the Cheetos that she stored in the bottom drawer of her night stand, and made conversation. Her strategy seemed to be exclusively focused on playing the game like it was the 1985 feature film Clue, playing the role of Mrs. Peacock with a fake accent and treating it like an actual murder-filled dinner party.

After a solid twenty minutes of gameplay, the pizza arrived. With minimal grumbling from Hotch, who was apparently on a roll, they took a break to eat.

“Did you see this?” Spencer said with his mouth full, lifting up the copy of the newspaper that he had grabbed earlier.

“Don’t get me started,” JJ grumbled and took a sip of her pop.

“What happened?” Hotch asked, the conversation piquing his interest.

Spencer explained—with the assistance of JJ who apparently knew one of the people involved through soccer—the entire scandal. Apparently, last year there had been very little interest in the leadership roles, so the President of the student government had simply waltzed into his role. He then hired all of his friends, his girlfriend, his roommate, and together they embezzled thousands of dollars of student funds.

“I can’t believe they’re getting away with this,” JJ muttered. “Is there no oversight?”

“It’s always the same,” Emily replied. “Who’s going to oversee them? The college? They’re corrupt too.”

“This sucks,” Derek said. “Wish someone good would run for government, for once.”

Emily shook her head in frustration. It all just reminded her of her childhood. Embezzlement, corruption and nepotism all were casual topics discussed over family dinner in her home. She had higher hopes for students her own age, would they not break the cycle? Or was it just a microcosm of the outside world?

“You should run Mr. Lawyer Man,” Penelope teased Hotch. “You could take any of these clowns.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow at her and went back to his pizza, brushing her off. Emily smiled at him. Penelope was right, he might actually do a good job if he set his mind to it.

The people that surrounded her now were nothing like her mother’s friends—or the kids she had been forced to hang out with when she was younger—they were genuinely kind, supportive, and seemed to like Emily for Emily. When she told them she was an ambassador’s daughter, they had been more concerned with the cool places that she had been able to travel to than whatever power she had. At college, Emily finally exhaled fully, slowly relaxing more and more into herself.

But, the topic of politics always set her on edge, especially since the semester was ending soon. Her mother had already begun to leave her voicemails about the galas, fundraisers and events that she was required to attend over Christmas break. She pushed thoughts of the future aside and focused on the warmth that surrounded her. With some music playing softly (a song that JJ liked by Vampire Weekend), the softness of blankets under her, and JJ leaning on her slightly as she ate her dinner, Emily felt at peace. She knew she could handle winter break, because she knew that these friends would be here when she came back.

After years of leaving a school midway through the year only to show up to some new boarding school or international school each time her mom was reassigned, Emily never had a chance to put down roots. But, with each bite of pizza, Emily felt herself becoming even more firmly rooted. Not to this place, but to these people as their lives became more entwined.

Once dinner was over, the game continued, and thoughts of politics left their minds. By then, Emily narrowed it down to the weapon (the candlestick), two rooms (the kitchen and the billiard room) and she was pretty sure that it was Colonel Mustard that had committed the crime.

She had a decision to make: walk all the way from the study to the billiard room, or risk being wrong by making an accusation. She was pretty sure both Hotch and Reid were on the right track, as the younger boy’s scribbling in his notebook had gotten even more intense and the older boy was beginning to look around suspiciously, as if the others were trying to read his notes.

She had pretty much ruled out Penelope, JJ and Derek as competitors, as the trio spent most of the time talking, and genuinely trying to have fun. Emily, Reid and Hotch were all way too into it, but Emily was competitive and this was her game. She wasn’t going to lose to Hotch, no way. Reid winning she could blame on his boy-genius nature, but Emily decided that Hotch was going down.

The two boys seemed to have come to the same conclusion, all eyeing each other across the board, the tension palatable between them as their competition became heated.

She nervously tried to move to the billiards room, deciding to play it safe. Better safe than disqualified. But, as soon as she made that decision, she regretted it as Spencer straightened up on his turn and said: “I’d like to make my accusation.”

“Write it down,” JJ prompted, as per the rules. He jotted it down in his paper.

Then, with bated breath, they watched as he grabbed the envelope out of the centre of the board, and read the cards. His face fell when he saw one of the cards, so he must have been wrong. He placed them back into their envelope and back onto the board.

“No dice?” Emily asked.

He shook his head.

“Statistically speaking that should have been right,” he grumbled. “My math was wrong.”

“Boy genius isn’t a good detective, huh?” Penelope mused.

A few turns went by, with Derek, Penelope, and JJ moving around the board or making suggestions.

Emily rolled the dice, making one square from a room. She sighed. She’d make a suggestion next round.

On Hotch’s next turn, he made an accusation, which he wrote down on a pink sticky note that Penelope had handed out when the game started. He checked the envelope.

Emily held her breath. She was sure he had it and that the game was over. She should just call it quits now. She went to bite her nails out of stress, but stopped herself, they were starting to get long and she wanted them to look nice.

A moment passed as Hotch compared his cards. After he saw the third card in the envelope, his expression revealed that was also wrong.

Boys, Emily thought. Always so overconfident.

She made a suggestion instead of risking it: “Miss Scarlet—er myself I guess— in the Billiards Room with the pistol.”

It was a gamble. If she was right, and the people who knew she had her own card and the pistol caught on, they would also know that it was the Billiard Room, because no one would be able to disprove her theory. If she was wrong, someone would have the card for that room, and she would know that the crime occured in the Kitchen.

The second seemed to be true, as Derek showed her his card with a small illustrated image of the Billiard Room on it. She was right. She knew what it was. But, she would have to wait until her next turn. She was going to win.

But, it was she who was overconfident, because as she was too busy preemptively celebrating her win, Derek casually made his accusation.

“Hey I’m right!” he exclaimed, holding up the cards and his own hot pink sticky note.

In his semi-cursive scrawl read: “Colonel Mustard, Candlestick, Kitchen.” These guesses matched the cards hidden in the envelope, and Emily’s own deduction that she planned to make on her own turn.

“You guys really thought I hadn’t played this game before?” Derek laughed. “I’ve got two sisters, board games were everything.”

“Were you hustling us, Morgan?” Spencer demanded.

He smirked.

“Should’ve put money on the outcome,” Derek said with a laugh. “I’d be rich.”

Emily threw her cards onto the table in defeat. JJ shot her an empathetic look, and Emily tried to stuff her frustration down to pat her friend on the back for the surprising win. He deserved it.

———

After the game concluded and the pizza had been completely eaten, the group parted ways, heading to bed, or for more midnight snacks or to finish up some studying, leaving JJ and Emily alone and to start? a game of Scrabble.

The board was ancient, and quite a few letters were missing, but with music droning on JJ’s laptop, and the soft fairy lights overhead, neither girl minded too much.

Emily looked at her letters: O, B, S, O, T, B, W and thought hard, rearranging the wooden pieces to try and formulate a word. After a long day of academia, and investing so heavily into the game of Clue, she probably had only one or two working brain cells and both were telling her to play the word ‘boobs.’

Her eyes flicked to her girlfriend, who looked absolutely gorgeous in the warm light. Her blonde hair almost glowed, and she had an adorable expression on her face. Emily couldn’t help but glance lower, thinking about the real world examples of her Scrabble word.

She played the word with a cheeky grin.

“‘Boobs,’ Emily?” JJ scolded. “Really?”

She sounded angry, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at her cheeks and Emily could tell the girl found it funny.

“I can’t help it,” Emily said. “I haven’t thought of much else since last weekend.”

She raised and lowered her eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, making JJ laugh and kick her lightly in protest.

JJ then played the word ‘throw,’ using the ‘o’ from ‘boobs’ to form her word, earning her thirteen points.

“I don’t think you can throw boobs, babe,” Emily said. “They’re usually attached.”

JJ rolled her eyes.

Emily made it her mission to find the funniest words possible, working extra hard (and missing out on some good points) in an effort to make JJ laugh. ‘Armpit,’ ‘meaty,’ ‘hoagie,’ ‘urine,’ ‘joint’ and her piece de resistance: ‘boner.’ All while JJ was playing incredibly normal, and often strategic words like ‘axis,’ ‘snow,’ ‘vain,’ ‘snag’ and ‘writings,’ hitting multiple double- and triple word scores on the way.

“This is fun,” Emily said, sneaking a handful of JJ’s Cheetos out of the family-sized bag next to the blonde, while she was distracted by playing her turn.

“I don’t understand how you’re winning,” JJ muttered.

Emily shrugged, “Guess I’m just a genius.”

“Reid? Is that you?” JJ joked. “Why are you disguised as my girlfriend?”

“Would Reid do this?” Emily said, leaning over toward her girlfriend and pressing kisses all over her face until she fell back. Then Emily straddled her, their lips meeting in a passionate embrace that left both girls panting.

“I would hope not!” JJ exclaimed with a laugh, making a face at the thought.

They laughed and went back to making out, with Emily careful not to disturb the game pieces. JJ sucked onto Emily’s bottom lip, making her weak in the knees and she struggled to support herself over JJ’s shorter frame at the motion.

“We should-” Emily tried to say between kisses, “finish the game.”

JJ kept deepening the kiss, going so far as to grab onto Emily’s butt to hold her in place on top of her.

“You’re trying to distract me,” Emily chided, “because I’m winning! I see right through your plot.”

She sat up and went back to her tiles before playing another funny word: ‘suck’ for twenty points. JJ grumbled,fiddling with her own tiles, as Emily collected a few out of the bag.

Emily was preening as she rearranged her own tiles and didn’t notice as JJ put down her word. When she went to play her next word (‘zap’) and only then did she see what word JJ played.

‘Love.’

It was there. Clear as day. Written vertically and connected to the word ‘snow,’ it was unmistakable. Emily looked at it for a long moment, trying to figure out what it could possibly mean that her girlfriend very intentionally played such a loaded word. Was it the only word that fit? Did she only mean that she loved the snow? Was she also reading into it?

Emily looked up, making eye contact with JJ. The blonde blushed and looked away, nervously fiddling with the necklace around her neck. Emily smiled faintly at the warmth that flooded through her, but alongside that, was the sharp pang of anxiety. Was she supposed to acknowledge that? Would that make it weird?

‘Zap’ didn’t feel appropriate when her girlfriend may or may not have confessed her love for her.

She played it anyway, deciding that making a big deal of it would just complicate matters. Besides, did she love JJ? She didn’t know. It was all so new. She liked JJ a lot. She definitely like-liked her in the traditional sense of the world. But Emily had never been in love before. She’d loved people before, Matthew for one, and her mother in a way, and she loved Derek like a brother. But being in love was a whole ‘nother ball game.

JJ won the game after playing ‘equinox’ for twenty two points near the end, beating any lead Emily had gained from her silly words. JJ deserved it in the end, as the blonde would sit and stare at her letters until they formed the most complex words that Emily had never even heard of. Emily’s eyes drooped and she was barely able to create three letter words by the end, while JJ was still surprising her with her vocabulary.

Emily shook JJ’s hand to congratulate her for the win. JJ grinned and kissed her.

Then, they looked around and realized two things: it was past one in the morning and Penelope hadn’t come back to the room yet and that all of the blankets that JJ owned were currently being used in the blanket fort.

“Can we sleep in my bed, tonight?” Emily asked. “I’ll help you clean up in the morning.”

JJ nodded but was in the middle of texting Penelope, wondering where on earth her roommate had wandered off to. Within a minute she got back to JJ saying: with derek! will explain tmrw!! 😘 🧚‍♀️ 😳

JJ showed Emily the message and both girls giggled. Emily saw that coming, but didn’t realize it would be a game of Clue that finally sealed the deal.

Exhausted but happy and relaxed after the game night, Emily and JJ tumbled into Emily’s bed and cuddled up together. Between JJ and Emily, the word ‘love’ was left unsaid that night, but Emily fell asleep that night feeling a new warmth in her chest.

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starcrossed-pharaoh · 4 years ago

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Red Crackle Breakdown

Itstalkcartoons recently had a live stream interview with Carmen Sandiego’s showrunner Duane Capizzi, I’ve seen some thoughts on tumblr so after watching the interview I thought I’d drop down some direct quotes and talk about what happened. You can find the interview on Istalkcartoon’s IG page, it’s about an hour and a half long full of other tidbits about the characters and the show so definitely check it out if you’re interested. The post below will have spoilers from season 1 - season 4 so if you haven’t seen it yet, do not read below.

- Duane confirms that Gray is the most complex character and has the most complex arc of anyone in the show.

- Gray’s story was meant to be wrapped up in the season 1 pilot. Duane created his story for that episode only. After the pilot, the Writer’s Room was developed and he was blown away by the interest that people had in Gray as a character. It was from there they decided to go with the ‘amnesia’ arc to expand and enrich his character.

- Duane confirms that in the pilot episode, at that point in time, Gray “was willing to kill her [Carmen] for V.I.L.E on the train”. He says a little earlier to this quote that “we know Gray has good qualities, from his days back at the school protecting Black Sheep, but he’s still a criminal, still a sociopath” and he admits that this is a controversial opinion of the character. “He [Gray] says one of the most awful things to her, that anybody in the series has ever said, something like ‘You proved yourself to V.I.L.E, that’s all you ever wanted, wasn’t it?’ and it’s so demeaning.” By Carmen leaving him gift-wrapped in her coat on the train, Gray “got what he deserved” and Carmen “moved on”.

So what we do know is that despite Gray and Black Sheep being very close on the island, when Black Sheep defected, no matter how hard Gray could have found this he was still grimly determined to kill Carmen for V.I.L.E. This is heart breaking, not only for their friendship, but because of the successful brainwashing and nurturing of sociopathic tendencies that V.I.L.E did to these barely legal adults. Carmen clearly proved herself unique to this, she had the longest exposure to villains and brainwashing on the island, but her innate empathy for others won over her drive for success.

I suppose, we don’t know exactly what the lives of the other V.I.L.E members were like. We know from season 4 that Gray’s drive was to be successful, he was a junior technician at the Sydney Opera House and wanted more out of his life. But V.I.L.E is, essentially, a cult. V.I.L.E engages in mind altering practises, cull dissenters, dictate their students’ beliefs, education, social communities. They clearly target and prey on teenagers with specific skill sets, who likely have specific backgrounds that make them more vulnerable in society, or more likely to respond to a vigilante or criminal way of living. They clearly make sure that their students know V.I.L.E is their entire life, their entire community, and if you want that: you need to follow the rules.

It’s not too surprising to me that Gray is like this in the pilot. He’s a complex character leaning into sociopathic tendencies, he was written to be that way.

- Gray’s arc changes with his amnesia. Duane confirms Bellum created nice guy Graham Calloway onto Gray, it was a personality “grafted onto him” that opposes his personality in the pilot. Carmen protects Graham Calloway, she recognises that he isn’t the ‘V.I.L.E Gray’ and that he is innocent and has the potential for a do-over. This shows Carmen’s true selflessness, despite her ex-best friend trying to essentially kill her/take her down, she sees he doesn’t remember any of that and believes in his goodness. So much so that she protects it. It’s the opposite of where Gray was in the beginning.

- Tragically, when Gray gets his memories back, he does revert back to V.I.L.E. Duane does not confirm exactly why this is but he does say that Gray was never good enough for Carmen up until the finale. We can theorize and infer a lot from what he’s told us of Gray’s character, despite the good qualities he does have, he struggles with doing the right thing. How much of Gray is because of V.I.L.E’s cult-like brainwashing and how much of it is due to Gray’s own chaotic morality and ambition is up to interpretation. I’m of the belief it’s a strong mix of both. In saying that, I’d like to think Gray’s aware that if he defects with Carmen, he knows he’s as good as dead. Graham Calloway might have believed Professor Maelstrom would let him walk free, but Gray is not so naive. He made his choice a long time ago and taking Carmen’s hand is not just about caring about her, it’s choosing a side and who he wants to be.

Just because Gray doesn’t join Carmen doesn’t mean his arc is entirely reverted though. In the pilot, he was willing to kill her. After knowing her through the eyes of Graham Calloway, and having the empathy and naivety and kindness of Graham Calloway literally injected into him, Gray truly feels regret and empathy. V.I.L.E unintentionally gave Gray a huge gift they likely never foresaw: a different perspective. He regrets ever hurting Carmen and never wants to do so again. That’s a huge step from where he was at the beginning, but is it enough to leave what he’s familiar and used to?

There’s a lot to unpack there that I won’t go into because this is long enough. I think it’d be interesting to go more in depth about the psychology of cults and how future Gray and future Carmen would assimilate the personalities they were forced into. Do those personalities go away when the memories come back? Can the trauma of it cause black outs and more memory loss? What does it do to your mental health? Do you assimilate it into who you are? But I digress

- The most important part of Gray’s arc is in the finale. As Duane says, it’s Gray’s “coming of age, when he becomes a real person” and he does so by showing what Carmen stood for: true selflessness. There’s a bitter irony to Gray’s ambitions of success, his desire to work with Carmen as a team, pulling off successful and incredible heists ... all his dreams are coming true. But she takes more risks, he’s shocked by her ruthless and individualistic impulses, he knows it isn’t truly her, and whatever he could excuse before, he knows it’s wrong. He chose to be a criminal, Carmen didn’t. The final thing that gets through to him is what Gray knows she can never take back: killing Shadowsan. He defects and betrays, not for himself, not for success, not for anything except for her. He’ll risk getting killed, imprisoned, he’ll even betray this Carmen, out of a true selflessness for her to be herself again. He proves he has become a person good enough for Carmen Sandiego.

- I also absolutely love that at some point he changed his Crackle Rod to stun mode as a ‘maximum setting’. He didn’t plan for Carmen to be able to use it against him because he thought she couldn’t use it, so for awhile now he’s been ‘stunning’ people instead of killing them. Even though he returned to V.I.L.E, he came back as a changed person.

- His decision in the hospital room was also quite tragic, he didn’t want to complicate her life any further and Duane confirms he felt shame over his actions. That it was the right narrative at the time. I agree with this, though I’m a RedCrackle shipper at heart, the writer in me recognises the parallels of Carmen selflessly staying away from Gray to not ‘complicate’ his new beginning, and now Gray showing the same selflessness is a mirror to me that they’re on equal footing. (But also, please meet up again and talk to each other, because they’re the only ones who have gone through traumatic memory altering and personality grafting and there’s bound to be mental issues with that and they could help each other!)

And now, some talk by Duane on some RedCrackle hints:

- Carmen [on V.I.L.E island] was at an age where she probably didn’t know how to interpret her feelings for him, referencing when she called him a big brother to her. She tells Player she cares about him but doesn’t specifically reference that this is romantic or not

- 100% Graham was flirting with her in Australia

- They absolutely will meet up again in the future.

Anyway, I’ve seen some things circulating about the interview on Tumblr and I just wanted to provide some context and quotes from the interview. It was surprising to me that we were to read Gray as someone ruthless enough to kill Carmen in the pilot, because I didn’t interpret that exactly from my viewing, but I suppose that’s the great thing about art: it’s your interpretation. It also makes sense to me that Gray was written for the pilot and it was the Writer’s Room afterwards that took his character in new ways, just proof of organic storytelling. I also love that in the interview, he doesn’t specify any of the pairings as canon but if we saw things happen between characters or implied by a character, it was intentional, and I love that.

Definitely check out the interview for yourselves on Itstalkcartoon’s IG, they had a lot more to talk about, particularly with the goodbye to Zack and Ivy and Carulia.

Special thank you to Duane Capizzi, I doubt he’’ll ever read this, but thank you for your part in bringing this amazing show and its characters to a new narrative. It’s such a shame it only lasted for four seasons, hopefully in the future we get new stories to tell with these characters. As a complete side note, I am a New Zealander and it was so great to see NZ represented in media, even better that it was a Carmen and Gray episode :D To everyone else, thanks for reading this if you have gotten this far :)

#redcrackle #carmen x gray #carmen sandeigo netflix #duane capizzi #carulia #spoilers

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boogiewrites · 4 years ago

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Mae Flowers Ch. 8

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Mae LeBlanc (OFC)

Summary: A modern, magical Alfie Solomons AU. Alfie takes Mae out to celebrate a milestone in her magical work. It turns into an evening of deep conversation and bonding, learning about one another.

Warnings/Tags: Language.Magic/Supernatural.FLUFF. Bonding. Talk of being soul mates. Support/Love. Talk of confidence issues and mild bad memories.

Click on my screenname then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

“Go throw something on that makes you feel like celebratin’ and we’ll go out ‘n do just that.”

It was a simple enough request. But one Mae was having a hard time with. She watched the grass and soul gather in the antique tub's drain, washing the sweat from the sun off her warm brown skin. Wiggling her yellow-painted toes, she took a few deep breaths to ease the sense of anxiety building and give the many potted and ivy plants in the bathroom a good dose of co2.

She stood before her full-length mirror in her room whose colors all deep jewel tones made her feel at peace. A mix of malachite, amethyst, and a pop of color with citrine soothed her as she adjusted her dress. Mae wasn’t the “going out” type. Like most, she had a dress that had been dormant in her closet for ages. The one that you bought on a whim when you had some manic episode where you swore you’d start going out and dating and having fun like everyone said you should. But it just sat in the back of your closet. A reminder of money wasted and goals not met.

She frowned, her dark curls against her shoulders only covered by the thin straps of the bold red dress. Her hands moved across her body, a pudge to her stomach, her hips wide from her pear shape and her breasts barely enough to fill out the cups of the dress. It reminded her of the “hot girl” dresses in 90s movies from when she was younger. Cinched in a baby doll cut and the rest hugging her body in a way she was unfamiliar with showing off. Her denim cut-offs and a tank or shop t-shirt were her go to outfits. She never purposely dressed up to seem more attractive, it was function over fashion for her at this point in her life. The last time she’d gotten “dressed up” had been when Ruth and Nancy set her up with a “nice boy” from their church. What a bust that had been.

She let herself take a deep breath to gather what confidence she could and it only deflated into a sigh. She let her head fall back and made silent protests with clawed hands and an angry face before stomping and glaring at her reflection. Why couldn’t she just feel...good? She was a so-called powerful witch but all she saw looking back at her was an unsure girl. Not the confident woman she wished she was. Her chest aches a bit, a pit in her stomach as sadness came and went, flashes of failed attempts at dates and moments others killed her hard work at feeling confident in one single comment.

“Okay…” she exhaled forcefully. “This is as good as it’s going to get.” She flops her hands to her hips and decides maybe a cardigan would be an acceptable addition to the outfit. She could cover up a bit, but it wouldn’t look like she was trying to hide. Yeah. That’d work. She found comfort in the extra layer, adjusting it over her cleavage as she exited her bedroom.

Alfie stood relaxed and confident as always. He looked up to her, hazy blue eyes under a heavy brow of ginger tinged hair. He blinks slowly and watches her unsure movements. He could very literally see the dark haze of uncertainty around her but only a blind man couldn’t see how shy she felt.

“Why’ve ya got a sweater on? It’s blazin' out.” Alfie asks with a furrowed brow as he sees her usually sunny disposition missing.

“If you think it’s hot now I have some bad news about the summers in the south.” she answers back, a clear deflection.

“I know it’s hot enough to melt ya bollocks to your leg down ‘ere but that’s not what I asked now was it?”

Her face falls into a defensive expression. “It’s part of the outfit.” she says and averts her eyes from his.

“Mae. Now, what would be the point in lying to me? When I don’t even have to get into that noggin of yours to read it.”

“None I guess.”

“So why are ya?”

“Because I don’t wanna get into it,” she states with an attitude-filled head shake. “I’m just trying to...get through this night out you wanted to do.”

“Nope.” he says with a clap of his hands and moves her over to the couch. He squats in front of her and stares her down. “We don’t lie to each other Mae. Not only is it pointless it serves no purpose for growth. And that’s why we’re together. So I’ll ask again.”

“Just read my mind if you wanna know so bad. Since you can just poof everything into existence without trying.” she snaps back.

“You’re acting like a teenager, Mae. You’re a grown woman.”

She glares at him because he’s right. “I’m wearing it because I want to hide. Is that what you want to hear?” she blurts out.

“The truth yes but I never want you to feel poorly.” he pats her knee. “Why?”

She huffs out, feeling her face be red with embarrassment and hurt and anger. “Because I don’t… I’ve never worn this and it’s tight and I’m not… I don’t wear things like this because it’s something hot girls wear and I’m not that.”

“No, you are not.”

His eyes blink and go wide at his response.

“You are a beautiful woman. Not some slaggy young thing. You are of substance. Of...principal and power.” He sees the tears prickle up in her eyes from her rush of emotions. “You also look lovely in that dress. Red suits you. It’s a shame a woman like you would lack confidence when you owe the world nothing. You gracing these mortals with your visage is a gift they do not deserve.”

“You’re just being full of shit now Alfie.” she groans.

“No. No Mae darling I am not. I said no lies did I not? I stand by that.” he raises her chin with his calloused index finger. “I understand that your big big soul is feeling lots of things in this little human body of yours. I know you’ve been hiding it from me and I commend you for trying to handle it all on your own. But the purpose of us existing my love is to NOT have to deal with these burdens alone. Now tell Alfie what is wrong so he may mend it.” he leans in to kiss her forehead and hug her. It was too much for her little heart to handle. “Let it out little one.” he shushes as she sniffles and pretends she doesn’t want to sob and wail.

“I just feel so… boring. So not confident and I don’t like what I see when I look in the mirror. Nothing is where I want it. I don’t look how I should. I don’t-” she hiccups and he wipes away her tears.

“Says who? Who told you you had to look any certain way? Some old rich white man behind a desk who doesn’t give a shit about you and only wants your sorrow to make more money off of things you don’t need based on self-hate? Who do these negative emotions serve eh? Not you. And you are all you have to be concerned with. You are as you are. As you are is how you should be. There is no “supposed to” in reality, Mae love. There is only a culture that hates women. And you are so very fuckin' far above their standards and expectations I cannot even begin to tell you. You are otherworldly. A soul full of sunshine and vulnerability. Things most humans hide from. You are growing and with that comes those damned waves of emotions. This is why we do the shadow work, yeah? We accept all parts of us, and release what no longer serves us? I’m not just talkin’ out me arse love. I promise.”

“You...really?” she sniffles.

“Not to force any standards of beauty upon you my darling little sunspot but you are the most beautiful soul I have ever encountered and will ever encounter. To me you are perfection and I hope one day to make you see that as well.”

She begins to cry again and he takes her back into his arms. “You’re so nice to me-ee-e.” she stutters.

“Only honest pet. You created life with your thoughts today Mae bug!” he squeezes her upper arms. “You are so powerful. And you’ve barely scratched the surface. Now let's dry those tears, right? Let’s take off this shroud of negativity you call a jumper.” he chuckles and takes it off her and then pats her cheeks with it.

“It’s a sweater you cockney bastard.” she lets out a giggle that he answers with an amused snort.

“There she is.” he bops her on the nose. “A smart mouth and cheeky disposition was something I always did favor in a woman.” he muses and helps her up from the couch. “And you are a clever little thing. Far too smart to feel so low about yourself.”

“Thank you.” she says quietly.

“Now chin up pumpkin. We are going to go out and have a wonderful time, yeah? Celebrate your progress and the simple fact it is a beautiful evening and we just so happen to exist at the same time. That’s enough cause for a drink and a good meal.”

“You’re… very good with words.” she says as he fusses with her curls and wipes away any running mascara from her eyes.

“Thank you. Ol’ cockney bastard like me has to have something going for him, eh?” he grins.

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

Mae sat back and enjoyed the breeze in Alfie's antique car that resembled more of a boat to her. It was long, a bit excessive but it did suit him. Something quirky for a man that looked like some sort of mystical cult leader in dress and charm. He could feel the calm around them now. The late evening air humid but the breeze made it tolerable. With her head laid back in a nest of curls and her eyes closed the golden light of the sunset highlighted the round highs of her face. A round heart-shaped face with doll eyes and high cheek bones and a button nose sat in the middle of all the delicate softness. He smiles softly, glancing over and seeing her take in the day's last touch of sunlight as it sets.

“You seem to be doing better.” he speaks softly and pats her knee to break her from her half-hearted moment of meditation.

“I am.” She answers softly.

“You seem like the type to enjoy solitude and silence more than the company of others.”

“Yeah. When I was young I wanted to have ‘my’ people so bad. My own little group. But then I got used to being alone. Now I prefer it.”

“When other's lower vibrations drain your energy it’s hard to want to be around that. We can work on shielding. But tonight is about a good time. What is a good time for you Mae? What is that moment you just sit and relish in and appreciate?”

She tilts her head in thought. Blinking slowly she tries to find her happy place. “In the morning on Sundays. I’ve slept well and have the day off. I’ve got my favorite mug and I’m in my little spot in the sunroom. It’s raining and Percy is asleep on the bench. My music is playing in the kitchen. Outside is quiet and all you hear is the rain. You can forget you live around people on those mornings. Everything foggy and dewy and the sheets of rain run off the glass ceiling.” She lets out a content exhale. “That’s my favorite time.”

“Lovely innit. Life’s simple pleasures.” He mused and scratches his chin. “I believe I can work with that.” He nods. “I know a little hidden beer garden I believe you might enjoy. We'll go there.”

“A beer garden?”

“Yeah.” He says obviously and confused by the questioning inflection in her voice.

“What’s that?”

He turns and blinks rapidly at her for a moment before looking to the road. “You dont-?” His brows furrowed in question. “You don’t know what a beer garden is?”

“Would I be askin' if I did?”

He lets out a small snort of amusement. “‘Spose not. A pub-a bar outdoors. This one's in the old part of the city.”

“I don’t go there much because of the tourists.”

“No tourists where we’re going. Not exactly Bourbon street.”

“So an outside bar? Do they call those beer gardens? Weird.”

“Well, I think you not having tea in every restaurant is weird.”

“We got sweet tea.” She grins.

“We are not having this argument again Mae. That abomination is NOT tea. It’s sugar water in a cowboy hat.”

She lets out a giggle that warms him, recalling an almost argument on sweet tea and good British char one night before bed. Mae didn’t see what the big deal was. But she was promptly informed by Alfie it’s because she was a bloody yank so she never would.

————————-

The place he took her was off the beaten path. A small old white building with a courtyard in the middle with small iron tables and canopies. It was quiet and rustic and full of plants along the walls and in decorative planters. It felt green and wet and lush and alive and she felt oddly at home. A gentlemanly pulling out of her chair before he sat, his crystal pendants glinted in the sun around his neck. They lay at the edge of his vest, a dark and worn fabric over his usual worn in white button ups.

“Order whatever you like darlin' this is a treat for you.”

“I’m gonna order sweet tea.”

“Cheeky bugger.” he smirks and keeps his eyes on the menu.

“I’m not sure.” She says quietly.

“When I say order what you like I do mean you could order the whole fuckin' thing.”

She blinks and thinks a moment. “What if I actually did?” Her big curious eyes have a smile to them as she looks his way.

“I wouldn’t have to worry bout cookin' dinner for a tick then would I?” He answers with a playful nod her way. “I think I’ll go with seafood.” He says after a long pause. “No point in wastin' bein so close to the water eh? Perhaps calamari to start. Fried, of course, because you lot can’t just leave things be.”

“Never had that.”

“Hmmph. Guess you will be tonight.” He affirms with a nod.

“We could get the variety appetizer. I haven’t tried escargot either.”

“A day of firsts calls for a night of the same.” He declares confidently to her. “We are here for you Mae. Indulge.”

———————————

They sit among multiple plates and drinks, the frosted glass of the table growing cool as the sun sets and the garden lights and music turned on. A little candle was lit on the table for “ambiance” the waitress said with a wink. Mae tried to hide a blush but ALfie felt the ruffle of energy come from her and hid an amused smirk.

“Can I have some of your-?”

“Yes, of course, scoot ya bum over here.” Alfie chuckles and pulls her chair next to him. With their arms pushed together she lets out a small but audible content sigh. She continues to pick at his appetizers and he at hers. A vibrating calm between them as they touch.

“Nice innit?”

“It’s really good.” Her answer is muffled by the food in her mouth.

“The food is yes but not what I meant.”

“Wat.” She says with stuffed cheeks and wide questioning eyes.

“This.” He holds his hand out palm up on the table.

She looks at it and blinks.

In his head, he hears. “What the fuck?” And he laughs.

“Put your hand over mine Mae bug.” He chuckles as he holds her hand a few inches above his own. She holds in and swallows, she gives a small shiver in response. He touches his fingertips to hers.

“It tickles.” She giggles and slaps his hand.

“Not into tickling?”

She shrugs. “Not really? Not really had it done before.”

“How’s bout this?” He asks with a nod of his head, lacing their fingers together and resting

“Mmm.” She hums and smiles at him. “That you or the alcohol?”

“Can’t take credit completely. Can’t feel it myself without you.” He says it matter of factly but he feels the sentimental response like warm honey through his veins.

She studies his face a moment and then their hands, taking her time and connecting and disconnecting, tips then palms, moving to put as much skin to skin as she can. With their arms and shoulders pushed against one another, she speaks softly in realization, “It's when we touch.”

He makes a grunt of agreement. “What’s it feel like for you?” His curiosity gets the better of him.

“It’s...good.” She says after a pause.

“You can be more descriptive than that.” He scolds playfully.

“Than what’s it like for you?” She sass's back and takes a drink with her free hand.

“There was a place...long long ago I lived alone. Which is what I preferred. I got away from my old life, a pipe dream to be sure. But it was the happiest I had been before...this life. Feels like that relief. But without the loneliness.” He looks at her and she once again has tears in her eyes. “Oh come now love do your eyes ever dry?” He laughs and dabs at her cheeks.

“That’s better than I could ever put it.” She says and smiles. A sniffle and she squeezes back. “It’s our souls right? They missed each other this much? It’s like I feel warm down into my bones.”

“We missed you more than even my silver tongue can express.”

She lets out a heavy sigh. “I must’ve missed you too. Because this feels…” she smiles sweetly and puts her head on his shoulder, only feeling more contentment. “Feels right.”

“Like morning sunshine. Warm and dare, I admit, happy.”

“Probably Like a good hug or like when Ruth makes me a pie when I’m sad.”

“I do suppose that would be rather good.”

“The best.” She smiles as she rests her cheek on him. “Man… people are missing out. This is like drugs.” She softly laughs.

“Why did you say it's probably like a good hug? Odd way to put it.”

“Well… people say hugs from people you love or miss are the best.” She pauses. “But I don’t know that I’ve ever had one of those.” She admits.

“I admit I don’t know how you aren’t beloved by everyone. A sunspot like yourself should know of everything good and pleasurable in life. You deserve only the best Mae. And if I can help it I’ll help you feel the love you’ve deserved. Show you how to open up. You are a white witch after all, you radiate love.”

“Guess it’s all going out and not stayin' in” she mumbles and gives him a half-smile. It was a rather good observation.

“So many things you haven’t done yet” Alfie muses as he feels her inexperience in her thoughts.

“I can… feel you up in there.” She pulls away and shakes her head, curls bouncing. She shivers. “That’s so strange I can… feel you in there now.”

“You’re learning how to.”

“It kinda… feels like you’re scratching an itch in my brain.”

“Because I mean no harm, only help.”

“Does it hurt if a bad person is trying to get in my head?”

“For a sensitive little bean like yourself, I would assume so. It’s all about intention. As I’ve said. I see loneliness and fear of missing out and I want to alleviate it. So with good intention brings good feeling.”

“What are you seeing?”

“I don’t want to upset you, darling.”

“It’s my head it won’t upset me.” she snorts.

“I see you alone at a school dance. On the bleachers. Watching everyone else dance together.”

“Yeah. That is a bit upsetting.” She shrugs. “But a long time ago.”

“It was...the first time you felt a real romantic rejection and alienation.” He squints his eyes as he saw a small underdeveloped Mae in an out of style hand me down dress hiding tears as a boy she thought might’ve liked her looked at her and laughed with his date that was the opposite of what she looked like.

“Yeah… it got easier after that.”

“Shutting out everyone else isn’t easier Mae it’s self-sabotage.”

“Well.” She says thoughtfully. “It made it hurt less.”

He looks down at her with understanding. She was so full of life and emotion and she was robbing herself from fear and it made him sad for a moment to see her potential being stunted due to the hateful actions of others. “I’m here to show you how to master your emotions to unlock your potential, love.”

“That sounds...exhausting.” She looks down at his hand and rubs its embrace with her thumb.

“Nah. We can start small.” He insists with a look around. “Let’s start by checkin' something off your list.” He implores as he begins to rise.

“Like what?”

“I’m going to give you that dance.” He states obviously

“I don’t...I’m not a dancer.”

“Neither am I?” He laughs. “It’s about the experience. With it grows your confidence. It’s simple, I’ll show you.”

“I know HOW I just…” she glances around. “I don’t wanna in front of people.” She whispers

“I can fix that. Make it so no one notices us.”

“You can do that?”

“I can do most things you could ever imagine.” She looks around the small courtyard and weighs her options. He stood with a steady hand outreached .”I could even SHOUT ABOUT HOW ICED TEA IS SHIT...and no one can hear.” He grins.

Her eyes go wide but see's no one even glances their way as she rises to her feet. “Are we invisible?”

“No, just an illusion of the mind.”

“Can I be invisible?” She asks as he pulls her to the open center of the patio space.

“I can show you how to be very elusive. Although I don’t know why you would want to be.”

“Because I’m shy. Crippled with anxiety. Full of trauma. Where do you want to start?” She answers honestly but with a chuckle.

“We’ll start with this.” He pulls her close and minds his hands to keep it PG. She was skittish enough without adding physical affection to the mix.

She slowly gives in to his affectionate embrace. A simple back and forth and distanced as she’d wanted in her memory. He can feel the remnants of hurt the memory left around her, her yellow energy turning blue. “I know it means nothing when a man says these sorts of things, and only time will prove it to be true but you don’t have to worry about me rejecting your true self Mae. You do know that?” She looks up at him, knowing she must’ve been very bad at hiding her fear. “As cliche as it is we were made for each other and I have no intentions of abandoning this partnership.” He pauses and she lets out a heavy sigh. “I know love it seems like everyone has left you that’s said that. But I won’t yeah?” He gives her cheek a gentle playful stroke.

“Thank you. For trying to help me.” She says softly, feeling a warmth that wasn’t from the summer evenings still wet heat. “For being nice while I’m… still all...fucky.” She grins and lets out a soft laugh. “I know I’m grown but I feel like such a child sometimes. I’m kinda glad you can read my mind because with feel like I don’t even know what’s going on in there sometimes.”

“You’re going through a...magical puberty Mae and you’re doing wonderfully. I only celebrate things worth it and today-and your work was. Excess innit? Folks like us aren’t meant to be about it. It’ll go to our heads.”

“Good thing I don’t have to worry about that.”

“Your powers are just beginning and you’ll grow as they do. You’ll come to understand yourself and the things you’ve been through as lessons. You have so much power within you little one you’ll be astounded one day looking back at your life before. We have so much to gain, and it’s worth these emotional outbursts your human self insists on having.”

“You make everything sound so fancy and purposeful.”

“It’s just the age and accent dear.” he grins.

“You’re very wise.” She insists with big soft eyes. “I’m glad you’re my person. I need someone to keep things straight like you do.” She leans in and hugs him but doesn’t pull away.

He smiles down at her, a flutter in his stomach for this small gentle creature being accepting of him despite the dark monstrosity he had fancied himself for so long. “You’re too kind Mae.” He places a kiss on her bouncy head of curls and settles into a comfortable embrace.

She sighs and surprisingly to him cozies up to his chest. “I like these Feel Good drugs” she grins as he holds his hand to her bareback with her head on his chest. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Course. Always will be.” they both feel it warm and encompassing them both. A moment of being on the same page and the barriers between them thin.

———

They stuffed themselves on seafood and local beef and ease was between them now that hadn’t existed before. A bit of honesty went a long way with Mae. Her nature was very trusting in general and optimistic, so Alfie's reassurance left her feeling much more relaxed than she had in a long while. Alford was practiced at restraint as Mae was not. So he could not only feel but see in her eyes as they parted for the night to go to their rooms that she didn’t want to separate. He found it very endearing of her to want him around. He would as always have her make her own choices in her own time. Make her ask for the things she wanted. So instead of making the giant step of sleeping in the same bed, platonically, mind you, he simply whispered a soft intention as she snuggled into her own bed and yearning for that comfort he gave her now.

“Sleep well little one and may the morning find you as sunny as it.”

She hears him in her head and sighs, a happy one this time.

“Goodnight Alfie.” She murmurs, trying to send the thought his way and not knowing if she succeeded. But she had.

@jaegeeeeer @brianaisasongbird @hardygal69 @emerald-bijou @captstefanbrandt @coolgh0st @tinastarkandco @xstylishmileage @peakys-mystic @likedovesinthewnd

#alfie solomons au #alfie solomons fan fiction #alfie solomons #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons fanfic

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solesurvivorpaigeargot · 4 years ago

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Loving Stupid - Chapter One: Sanctuary [Fallout 4 Fanfiction]

HELLOOO Tumblr! Now that I’ve got this blog up and running, I wanted to do what I could to expand the exposure of my fic and get it around to new readers. While it’s already up on Fanfiction.net , it seems to me that the majority of the community prefers Ao3 or reading directly here on Tumblr. So, I figure why not post it over here as well?

Though a heads up that this first chapter was first written entirely for personal enjoyment, and then a friend I showed it to encouraged me to expand upon the story cause they wanted to see more of the ship. XD It’s uh... lil spicy. Or lemony, depending on how old you are and how far back your fic vocab goes.

Story Title: Loving Stupid

Story Summary: Paige [Sole Survivor] and Hancock venture into the Glowing Sea in pursuit of a lead on the Institute, when a catastrophic equipment failure forces them to separate.

Rating: MATURE

Content Warnings for this Chapter: Sexual content, drugs, alcohol, cursing

Content Warnings for story overall: Sexual content, drugs, alcohol, cursing, violence, blood, injury, needles, limb mutilation

Genre: .... erotic romance-adventure? IDK shit goes down and there’s some spicy scenes, but also a lot of character building and relationship stuff. I’m bad at genre assessment. Open to suggestions XD

.:_Sanctuary_:.

“So these are your digs, huh? … can't say it's my speed.”

“Not historical enough?”

“Nah, it's...”

Paige watched Hancock's face twist as he struggled to pick out what word fit his distaste, ghoulish features creating sharp valleys along fault lines in leathery skin while the shiny dark of his eyes appraised the home she'd built atop one of the empty foundations of Sanctuary Hills.

It wasn't anything special, wooden planks coaxed together into floors, walls, and roofing with nails and elbow grease. This was the only settlement where Paige had a place that was specifically hers, where she kept the little knickknacks and oddities she collected; all dutifully looked after by Codsworth-- ever dedicated to his task two centuries after it had been assigned to him. She'd given some life to the wooden bones of the shack, however; recycled fabrics became rugs and curtains with only mildly clashing patterns, and she even managed to cobble a number of worn out flannel shirts into a workable set of sheets for a double-wide bed that was, in truth, just a pair of smaller mattresses pushed together to pretend they were a queen size.

What could she say? She liked to sprawl.

Generators lit up Sanctuary at night with bare bulbs, and her little shack was no different. It brought yellow light against the dark, and reflected off a multitude of glass bottles, lined up on the shelves of a bureau she'd rescued, mostly intact, from the home of a long-dead neighbor. Whiskey, vodka, wine-- she jokingly called it her liqueur cabinet, despite the thing not having doors to lock the alcohol behind.

She'd done her best to make this a where place she could sleep soundly, when she was in the area. It was little more than a bed, a roof, and a lot of junk on shelves; insulated from the outside world with some sewn-together fabric scraps... but stepping over the threshold always made her feel like she'd entered a sort of... bubble. Not safe-- nowhere was safe-- but... quiet.

She could pretend, here.

“Comfortable.” Hancock decided, grousing out the word. “Damn near cozy-- you put this together?”

“With my own two hands.” She informed him; trust Hancock to find an issue with comfort-- then again, she couldn't blame him. Comfortable people had a habit of being complacent people, and they both knew that was where a lot of ugliness could happen... but his opinion didn't stop her from stepping inside and divesting herself of the pieced together armor that she layered over a set of somewhat over-sized army fatigues, reclaimed after clearing an old base of ferals. There was a wooden bin by the door for that stuff; she'd have to strap it all back on in the morning... but for now she was grateful to take a load off, starting with an enameled metal helmet.

“I've watched those hands beat faces to a bloody pulp. I didn't figure they could sew.”

She scoffed at him, rolling her eyes as she heard him trudge inside anyhow, metal door closing behind him, and set herself to the straps that kept her secured within the bits of metal and leather that frequently kept her alive on the road. Left arm first, a metal shoulder piece coming loose, and the whole ritual making her feel as if she were shedding skin.

She didn't tell him that she might have been a housewife a few centuries ago-- that was a different life. The idea that someone could live so cushy as to devote themselves to home-making and nothing else was a fever dream in this age, and while Hancock probably had enough chems in his pockets to attempt imagining it, she didn't feel like trying to paint the picture for him.

She didn't want to know what he'd think of her, knowing just how... comfortable she'd been.

“I'm a woman of many talents.” She snarked instead as another heavy piece of metal thumped into the bin, freeing up the shoulder beneath to roll and stretch. “Don't worry about getting used to it-- this is a one night stop. First thing in the morning, I'm seeing to the upgrades on the armor, and then back on the-- ah--”

Hands-- surprisingly strong hands despite withered skin that clung to spindly bones. She didn't know how that worked-- Hancock wasn't a big man, and the ghoulishness made her think he'd be frail... instead he'd hefted a flamer onto his back when he set out with her, and carried it from one end of the Commonwealth to the other without complaint. Finding those hands suddenly assisting with undoing the straps at her sides so that her chest piece could come loose was a surprise; simple and sure movements causing the scavenged military combat armor to come loose and slide forward. Without an anchor, it slid forward until the hard edge of the back plate caught on her neck and stopped it from simply falling to the floor. Meanwhile, Hancock's hands had slid in along her ribs, pressing firmly into the rough fabric and reminding her that they were, for the first time in a while, blissfully alone.

“I'm aware of that.”

Her lips pressed together-- a low sigh was expressed with his rough whisper in her ear. She swore he knew how much that got to her, despite her very deliberately not telling him. It was a struggle not to react, not to lean back as he reeled her in, those spidery hands easily finding their way upwards beneath the hanging breastplate and his chin perching on her shoulder. He'd pulled them together, his body against hers, and punctuated the move with a mischievous chuckle.

“Sometimes a little too talented-- doin' everything yourself, despite having a public servant waiting in the wings.” He teased her. “Let a ghoul help, eh sister?”

It wasn't entirely unexpected, nor unwelcome, but his eagerness was something that caught her off guard. She usually had something to say, something sly to come back with, but for some reason all she could focus on was the ticklish clutch of her gut as his fingers gathered up the material of her shirt in their traveling to her bust, squeezing fitfully enough to expose an inch of skin at her belly.

“Hancock--” She muttered, squirming slightly, but not in earnest. “C'mon, we've got the whole night--”

“That's right.” He agreed, but it was with an entirely different tone. One hand remained up, keeping her tight to him, while the other traveled down. The thin ribbon of skin that had been exposed was soon graced with the specific texture of his skin; rough, but not terribly so. Like callous, only it was all over; somewhat leathery and unique. His entire palm invaded through that opening, hard against her belly as fingertips sought out a path further south. “We've got the whole night-- and I didn't plan on wastin' any of it...” His fingers were ruthless once they found purchase, shoving past the tight fit provided by a belt she was wearing. “Did you?”

Her breath shuddered. No part of her wanted to tell him no-- the rush was enough to make her ignore the metal edge digging into the back of her neck, and forget how doggedly exhausted she'd been after their long trek here... particularly lugging her own weight in lead along the way.

In her hesitation, he'd gotten far enough to make a more intimate contact-- damnably persistent, like ivy finding the cracks in brickwork to wheedle its way in.

He pressed in against her, too certain to be deterred by straps and clothes. Barriers had been passed without any show of manners, knowing her well enough that if he was unwanted she would have thrown him off by now... and getting a sweet gasp as his reward.

“There we go.” His smile was evident in his tone-- no, not a smile, a grin-- a smug, shit-eating grin. She could imagine how it looked on his face, and knew he'd be wearing it for hours just to make her glare at him.

It didn't matter. Everything he'd done so far was just testing the water in his puckish, incorrigible way. Now he had her, and his wrist twisted as he worked that hand just a little further into her pants before slipping a fingertip against soft flesh. The motion was a sort of rocking of his hand, sliding the single offending finger down between sensitive lips before drawing back upwards with the tip pressed in, working up a little warmth in general and offering up a little tantalizing pressure to wake up the sweet spot for later, stroking her like that as his hips pitched against hers to turn her away from the bin next to the door and instead face her against the closed portal they'd entered through, reinforcing that he had her.

Without thinking, her right hand came out to brace against the door. Cold metal barely registered, just that it gave her something to push back against as he leaned in harder against her back, idly kneading her breast as he stroked her beneath restrictive layers of cloth and leather.

“O-oh... damnit, Hancock--”

“I was thinking fuck it, actually.” He smirked, still right by her ear for that quip before finally leaning back the necessary inches and releasing her breast to help her get her armor the rest of the way off, falling to the floor with a hard thud instead of getting placed in the bin. Pitching his shoulders back, hips pressed forward, grinding against her to advertise himself against her rump. “... just like this...” He added, losing a little breath as he suggested it, that free hand of his coming right back as if magnetically drawn, this time landing at the top of her hip and sliding upwards to expose a few more inches of skin-- his palm on her back, pushing with his surprising strength to encourage her to bend forward.

Bend over, actually.

She got his meaning, groaning softly as his stroking remained steady. She didn't resist the push, her hand shifting against the wall as her body dipped lower and her own free hand fumbled with the latch for her belt. The strip of leather resisted her, frustrating her fingers for a few agonizing moments as the sensation of his hand brought on another faint sigh, slipping against her with more ease as her body reflected her own eagerness; building with the anticipation. Then, finally, she managed to yank it just the right way for the latch to loose, the pressure of having his hand shoved in where it was such a tight fit relived, and further tugging releasing the subsequent button and zipper before they became obstacles... and before her hands became utterly uncooperative.

The loosened hem could be yanked down on his side, exposing more precious skin to the evening chill that crept in through the walls. Gnarled knuckles hooked on the hem, and fingertips got her underwear in the same dragging motion that demanded quick access. The lower she bent, the more he leaned against her, miming what would come in due time. It wasn't until he had her ass bare, pants and underwear drug down below the swell of her hips, that he finally pulled his own body back the inches necessary to attend to a few layers of fabric himself... but he didn't let off touching her as quickly. The hand that exposed her lingered, fingertips ghosting the sensitive skin just below the curve of her rump and sending a tingle across her skin, before his weathered palm pressed up and squeezed hard, his thumb sliding up to the top of her hip while his fingers rotated down. Finally, he finished up the groping with a light swat, chuckling behind her.

“Fuck you look so good like this...” He marveled, and she could hear layers of fabric moving against each other. “I just wanna wreck you.”

“Shut up and-- nnnnnnnh--”

She couldn't see him, but she felt him; hard and hot against her skin, pressed first between her thighs before he adjusted himself upwards. His finger's rubbing of her had paused, that hand simply anchored there as, from the rear, he worked himself against her, dragging the tip of himself this way and that until he found just the right angle to slick himself up with her excitement... and making her crave him in the process as she flexed her hips back towards him, trying to make it easier for him.

Somehow, some fucking how, she'd gone from exhausted to needy in the span of only a few minutes. It was the kind of eagerness that usually belonged to the young and dumb-- insanity she thought she'd left behind in her teen years, but he always found a way to draw it out of her.

She had no idea how he did that, but she never wanted it to change.

“Yeah?” His voice had dropped, the word barely differentiated from the heavy sigh it was carried out on. “C'mon, you can moan for me... no one's gonna hear you this time...”

More of him, pressing between wet lips-- and then more; there was resistance, going for it quick like this always meant it was a little rough, but it was the kind of sensation that left her gasping aloud as she went from craving that feeling of him to having him sink into her and remind her just how good it felt. Imagination, memory-- it always fell short, not quite living up to what it was in the immediate reality of the moment. Friction and heat, bound up in an intimate need-- just as addicting as any of the chems he slipped into her pockets whenever he thought she looked strung out.

Out of reflex, her jaw clenched tight, denying the urge to moan aloud and her body clenching around him instead. Both hands had applied themselves to the wall, and her breath shook as teeth ground together, resisting.

“Oh shit-- fuck-- if you squeeze me like that, I'm gonna...”

His hips bucked forward after a short draw back, the hand he'd been using to guide himself against her now finding its way to anchor at the crease that formed between her hip and her body as she bent against the wall, yanking her tight against him with the same motion before coming to a sharp stop. She could feel him inside, throbbing and thick, and the jolt made her jaw drop open for a short exclamation to escape her.

Buried, he began to rub her from the front again, abandoning the long strokes he'd used to warm her up and instead zeroing in on where she was most sensitive. Where his opening moves had all been about pressure with maximum contact, he changed tactics to only flick across her with the tip of his finger, instigating another tightening of her body as her resistance to making noise produced a shudder instead.

“D-don't--” She finally managed to murmur. “Oh God-- Hancock, you don't have to--”

This was a quickie-- an opener. She didn't expect this kind of attention; he always made up for it later, after a little Jet got him going again. This was usually the part where he took her by the hips with both hands and went to town, but instead he held her to keep them both tightly together, all while--

“F-fuck--” A whispered curse, kept lower than a murmur, followed by a greedy breath. He wasn't letting up, despite her telling him he didn't need to bother. She tried to push herself back against him, to antagonize him, but his fingers only tightened their grasp on the side of her hip as he leaned forward over her, ensuring that he was the one in control.

A defined clutch passed through her, centered at her core.

“Oh fuck-- mmmm--!”

“There you go... c'mon, let it out...” He coaxed her, rocking himself back in another short motion before jolting back into her again, letting out a guttural sound of his own as he did so. “Lemme hear you...”

It was an old habit to hold back, to grit her teeth and hold her breath-- anything to keep quiet. Her own fingers, once splayed open against the metal door, curled inwards into fists as the sensation built up, deep and desperate gasps getting drawn in through her nose as her jaw remained tightly closed, lips pressing hard against each other as she hummed and swallowed. Her head dropped down, his touch taking more and more of her focus.

Old habits were hard to break, but he was a new habit. One that liked to push at her old habits and see how long they'd stick.

Toes curled inside her boots, eyes closed without thinking. There was no thinking-- no, just her perception of him; the weight of his body against hers, the grip of his hand, and sound of his breath, all as her body underwent jolts that made her hips continue to try and rock back against his, one of her hands eventually lifting and banging back onto the door as the sensation turned briefly sharp, jaw loosing for a raw gasp between her lips and a guttural groan. “F-Fuck Hancock, you're gonna--- oh-- oh-- shit--”

“Rub you raw?” He completed the thought she was trying to articulate, drawing in a heavy breath of his own. His own hips rocked now, a minimal motion of a man that could barely help himself. “Wouldn't... wouldn't dream of it... just love the way you squeeze...”

The rocking changed things, introduced that delightful sensation that scratched the ineffable itch he'd aroused in her. Pressure and friction as he kept up his assault on her sensitivity made her knees wobble with a threat to give out, breath viciously driven out of her lungs in a single erotic moan.

“Fuck...” He murmured emphatically. “Sing for me babe... it's so pretty...” He encouraged her, pressing his face against the back of her neck as he kept a steady tempo. He was fully against her, laid over her back and abandoning his grasp on her hip to reach forward, those thin fingers of his stealing beneath the buttoned blouse of her fatigues and taking a demanding grasp on her breast; stalled only momentarily by the worn elastic band of her bra. The heel of his hand ground upwards at first, pressing in against her ribs, before he was pulling on her again, ensuring she remained anchored against him as he kept up the rocking motion he'd adopted over more conventional thrusting.

“Ah... ah shit... shit- shit-- J-John, oooooh... oh fuu...”

She lost the thread of why she'd been protesting in the first place. Her jaw fell open, and another moan came out; louder as everything began to come together. The movement, his insistent grasp, that very specific sense of fullness within her body and the craving it both satisfied and aggravated at the same time--

“Yeah?” He breathed against her ear. “You gettin' there, sweet thing? … good... I wanna feel it... And once you're over the edge, I'm gonna rail you until I burst.”

A thrill ran through her, like electricity that danced along her spine. Now that he'd articulated his intention, she wanted it, too.

“C-close...” She whimpered, nodding her head faintly. “J-just like that... l-little higher... rub a little higher... little circles around my-- oh- oh god- there- fuck yes-- there--!!”

Feverishly murmured coaching that directed his stroking where the craving was strongest sent her further than she expected to go, her head and chest dipping lower as her elbows bent and her forearms joined her hands in being braced against the door, a defined shaking running through her person as she went up to her toes and the rubber soles of her boots dug into the floor, further flexing her hips back in the desperation to have that sense of fullness as her body seemed to anchor itself on where they were intertwined. More than just laying open, her jaw stretched for her cry out with the rush.

His grip on her changed. He wasn't leaned over her anymore, but pitched back as both of his hands found their way to her hips.

God, she could feel him; the meeting of their bodies dominated her brain as she felt him throb within her shortly before he changed to much more active motions. There, again, was that surprising strength as he drew back and adjusted himself just low enough to begin taking her roughly, groaning between sharp breaths as his hips shocked against her rump with every thrust.

Her body was still squeezing, still rippling from what he'd just put her through, aware of the force in his every motion as he drove into her tightly clenched core.

“A-aah... aaanngh--!!”

A hitch, and his voice gave out for a more primal noise, his motions growing more hurried as she felt his nails digging into her hips. There'd probably scratches to attend to later-- not the first time. His breath juddered, followed by a gasp before it was held a moment. All at once, everything came to a halt, a shuddering swell moving up through his flesh that came shortly before a certain warmth spread within her; passed from him to her.

He claimed a sharp breath after, followed by a relieved exhale as his hands loosened. He didn't release her just yet, but he wasn't clutching quite so hard anymore.

“...shit that felt too good...” He muttered faintly as she tried to regain her own breath. One hand and forearm remained braced on the door, but the other had released to reach backwards for him, flexing her fingers to show she desired another kind of contact, and getting one of his hands in return for the non-verbal gesture. Once intertwined, she squeezed him, and let out a faint and almost girlish giggle.

“Too good...?” She quested, surprised he'd ever entertain the concept.

“Damn right.” He lobbed back, squeezing in return. “It's the kind of good a guy gets addicted to... Gotta find us some privacy a little more often.”

Don't have to tell me twice.

This was about the point where bodies needed to come apart; signaled by their hands drifting away from one another after that comforting squeeze... but that process was interrupted.

There was a knock at the metal door Paige was braced up against.

“General? Do you have a moment?”

… Preston, your timing is a disaster.

She recognized the voice in a heartbeat, and it was exactly the sort of person who had previously voiced his disapproval of her and Hancock's partnership... and he didn't even know about the more intimate details of said partnership. There was a shock associated to hearing his voice at this particularly compromised moment, one that made her face flush as she was excessively thankful for the solid door between them.

More thankful that he hadn't shown up a few minutes ago, when he might have heard a thing or two through that door.

Behind her, she more felt than heard Hancock's muted chuckle.

“I'm a little occupied at the moment, Garvey.” Paige answered back through the door; not entirely a lie. “Is it urgent?”

“Just a couple questions I'd like to ask, that's all.” Preston's voice answered back. “Security concerns.”

That was code for yes, it's urgent to me. Preston had been very particular about security ever since she assigned him to it. Making him wait would prompt more questions later, and possible lost trust with him and his group.

Despite very much not wanting to, it sounded like she was going to need to put her clothes back on for a little while.

“Just a minute, I'll be right out.” She informed him.

“Yes, sir.”

“Awee...” Hancock quietly cooed, easing himself away from her. “No cuddle time?”

Finally able to straighten up, she shot a look back at him that encouraged him to shut his face before she broke some part of it in lieu of his mostly missing nose... before cracking a smirk. “There's a bathroom behind that partition--” She directed him quietly, muting her voice to lower the chance it would carry. “No hot water, but it's clean.”

“Heh, ritzy.” Hancock smirked back. Looking at him, she was able to see exactly how ruffled his coat and blouse had ended up, with trousers only shifted just enough out of the way to get away with what they'd just done. He hadn't made any motion to arrange himself back into those trousers, though, appearing all too comfortable to just let it all hang out. “Is that your way to telling me to put it on ice? Cause if anyone needs cleaning up right now, it's you.”

He was right; she was a sticky mess between the thighs, and standing upright allowed for dripping between her legs. Usually she would have insisted on some clean cloth and water to manage that with, but at the current moment? She reached down and simply pulled pants and underwear back up, zipping, buttoning, and straightening both bra and blouse until it was impossible for anyone to know what they'd been up to by simply looking at her... and with only him aware of the specific nature of what was probably going to end up staining her undergarments.

“I'll make you clean it up, later.” She informed him playfully. “It's your mess.”

“Oooh... dirty.” He chuckled. “Don't threaten me with a good time.”

Her look hardened, making a motion at him that encouraged him to shoo-- the last thing she needed was to open the door and have Garvey catch a glimpse of her companion with his dick out. Hancock pouted at her, but ultimately obeyed.

With a sigh, she turned herself back towards the door, hesitated a moment, and then finally grasped the handle to push it open and head out.

Doing so was not unlike a splash of cold water to the face. Twilight was a good hour past, and the night sky was filled with stars without a single cloud to obscure them. There was a stiff wind tonight; enough to snap Garvey's trench coat against his legs and make the man pull up the swell of his scarf a little more to protect his nose and cheeks.

Going from the relative comfort of her little home-made haven, as well as the heat of her recent encounter, into the abrupt chill of the night with a sharp wind in her face could have only been more of a shock to the system if it had been raining.

As she emerged, Garvey looked back to appear in profile to her. The man was always at the ready, laser rifle held upright over his chest and his eyes brightly aware despite the dark of the night. Paige's shack was at the far end of Sanctuary; away from where she'd built housing for the other residents, as well as where she'd set up crops, power generators, and water. Looking down the slight hill her shack sat upon at Preston meant also seeing the lights of the settlement beyond him; the faint yellow glow of something that could almost be called a town as the back-drop to his silhouette and shining gaze.

“Garvey.” She greeted him by his last name; it felt more professional, what with him always insisting on calling her General since she'd helped him revive the Minuet Men and retake their old headquarters. “What can I do for you?”

“Like I said, I just had a few questions...” He answered, peering further up and towards the shack. She couldn't see his face; her abode featured no outdoor lights, and with the glow of the settlement behind him his features were cast in shadow. “... where's the ghoul?”

The ghoul. She could practically taste the disapproval on that one.

“Hancock is taking this chance to wash some of the wasteland out of his clothes.” She responded. “Is your security concern about him?”

“No, no, of course not. If you trust him, that's enough for me.” Preston assured her. “But, uh...”

“Out with it, Garvey.” She ordered sternly.

“I was manning the watch when you came back to Sanctuary, General-- I saw you brought back your power armor, and it looked like you were carrying a heavy load of supplies. I know you'd tell me if anything were coming for us here, but... I didn't see any of it go out with the traders, and that made me worry. So, I've gotta ask; do you think something nasty is coming up this way?”

She blinked. Preston thought she was stockpiling for an incoming threat. She almost wanted to laugh aloud, but couldn't manage it. Instead, she stepped down from her place above him on the hill, coming to stand at his side while still looking out at the settlement.

“No,” She answered him. “Nothing's coming here. I'm preparing for a journey into dangerous territory... I need to upgrade my armor before we head out, and we needed a safe place to rest our heads before we committed. I want every advantage we can get under us before we go.”

A pause. Whatever he expected to hear, that wasn't on the list.

“... General, you know all you'd have to do is say the world, and I'd--”

“I'm going somewhere you can't follow, Garvey.” She responded flatly. Of course he wanted to go with her, probably wanting to convince her to take him instead of Hancock. He considered himself more capable, more trustworthy; the better choice on all fronts.

She'd disagree with him outright, but Hancock also had a very specific advantage over Garvey that would leave him no grounds to argue on.

“I'm going into the Glowing Sea.”

Silence. The pause stretched out for several beats, no doubt as Preston processed what exactly it was she was saying.

“... I see. The armor will protect you from most of the radiation, and your companion is immune.” He observed. “... smart choice.” He added, begrudgingly, before asking, “But why are you going in there? Even with the armor, you're going to need to be carrying your weight in medicine to even have a hope of making it back alive...”

“It's important. That's all I can say right now.”

A month or two ago, she might have told him. Before getting involved with the Underground Railroad, before encountering a synth and the person they were trying to replace at the same time and very nearly killing the wrong one during the confrontation, before learning exactly how the institute dealt with people they didn't want to have around anymore... But now? There was doubt in her mind, about almost everyone. Was Preston really Preston? Or was he just another set of eyes and ears for them? If she mentioned a defector, hiding out in the Glowing Sea, would they somehow beat her to that defector and kill them?

She couldn't risk it. This was her line on Shaun, on her son. Right now, the only person she trusted was the one who was going with her; Hancock... and even he didn't know exactly why they were going.

Granted, he hadn't asked.

“... You're sure about this?” Preston quested quietly.

She scoffed. “... barely.” She answered back. “But it's the only way forward I have right now.”

She'd already decided on a direction. Her doubts didn't matter anymore.

“Then I suppose the only thing to do is wish you luck.” He sighed, turning to face her and taking a hand off the stock of his laser rifle to offer it to her. She, in kind, turned to him and took it, sharing a firm shake. “Whatever you're facing, if there's anyone who can survive it, it's you. You already provisioned?”

“Been buying out all the Rad Away and Rad-X I can find.” She confirmed. “Cleaned out every trader between here and Diamond City. Tomorrow morning I take all the lead I've collected and upgrade the power armor to withstand the radiation... and then we'll be suiting up and heading out.” She paused, withdrawing her hand from his. There was something else that had to be said; something she'd been hoping to save until they were on their way out, so there'd be no space to argue about it... but now was probably the kinder time to say it. “Garvey, if I don't come back--”

“You're coming back.” He interrupted.

“If I don't,” She pressed. “You'll be back in charge of the Minute Men. You can't hesitate from that. We've got enough supplies to last a day out there-- maybe two or three if we find a place to shelter that's not soaked in rads, like a cave or a pre-war bomb shelter that's somehow intact. If I don't come back to Sanctuary within that time? You need to take over properly and keep up the fight.”

He was quiet. He didn't like it.

“... I don't know if I can live up to what you've done for us, Paige.” He admitted, softly. “But... if it comes to that, I'll do my best by you.”

“... that's all we can do out here, Preston.” She affirmed in kind. “I know you're the man for the job.”

“Let's try not to find out.” He rebutted.

That time, she let out a faint laugh. “Don't worry.” She told him. “I'll be doing my best, too.”

__________

Chapter One: You are here Chapter Two: [hasn’t been posted to Tumblr yet, will add link when I’ve got it up... oor you could just go read the story so far on Fanfiction XD]

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider reblogging it to help me find a wider audience! <3

#Fallout 4 #f!sole survivor #sole survivor #hancock x sole survivor #John Hancock #Hancock #Loving Stupid #fanfiction #fallout 4 fanfiction #female sole survivor #Paige #Paige Argot

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souvercine · 4 years ago

Text

hey y’all ! i’m jia and i’m super excited for opening; i have two super clingy cats in case any of you ever need a visual pick-me-up, i’m a uni student in canada and a big skincare and dark chocolate junkie, more than likely gonna be typing replies while indulging in either jsyk !

tried to keep it short since i’m a rambly bitch, but xan’s basic stats and a proper wc page will be up soon as i just got home from grocery shopping and we open in an hour as of typing this, the theme as a whole will get a refresh eventually and i’ll be posting a little tracklist for her playlist later ! and if tumblr ims are as much of a nuisance for you as they can be for me, you can add me on d*scord at genuinely sick of this shit#2030 if you’d like to plot ! anyways, without further ado:

( samantha logan , cis female , she/her, twenty-four ) omg ! i was walking yonge street downtown , and you’ll never guess who i saw . xanthe lowe ! i just saw a post about them on sixsecrets ! i think it said something like “ when they go high, she goes lowe ! xan spotted leaving a gala with her former friend’s ex, after last week’s reportedly tense exchange between the girls ” . isn’t that wild ? i guess it makes sense through , since they’re apparently merciless and imperious . but i’ve heard they’re also conspicuous and astute ! i’ll just stick to giving them the benefit of the doubt . i mean , it’s not like i know them personally — they’re a famous socialite ! you know , i’ve actually heard rumors that redacted , but they’re just rumors … i think . i dunno . if you happen to run into them , tell them i’m their biggest fan !

tw: drug mention

when i tell you that i have so many muse posts i’m holding back on for this bitch —

which, btw, will all slowly see the light of day soon enough bc god knows i can’t articulate my muses’ personalities as well as i’d like so that shit makes up for it fdgslk

her parents’ eldest child together, xanthe’s also the oldest out of her and her siblings

also, never call her xanthe. friend or otherwise, don’t take the risk dklgsjdlk

grew up with a silver spoon, her dad being a wall street giant and her mother being an entrepreneur with a love for art ( so much so that her two partners after separating from xan’s dad were artists themselves sdlkgj )

thus she split her time between toronto and manhattan even before her parents’ divorce, she merely spent more time jetting back and forth for special occasions and vacations compared to when her parents were still together

mind you, she was probably still in the single digits when that became a new normal for the brat

basically could’ve been a main character on gossip girl with her reckless antics and partying as a teenager…. and now, even sgdlkf

drk how to elaborate on that, aside from stressing that from her teen years onward she’s presented her own take of a rich bitch, and is a socialite/fashion week regular type if i were to describe where she stands rn

i think a good mix of references would be nicky hilton meets the delevingne sisters meets blair waldorf and sabrina pemberton’s lovechild

she attended an ivy league at the behest of her father so he had at least one child who could take a senior position in his company simply to keep it in the family

.. before he realized what a Mistake™ it would be to put that responsibility on xan and now has her slightly older cousin as a backup instead GDSLFJKS but nonetheless !

isn’t the most studious person, but she somehow wound up graduating with a major in communications and a marketing minor

she reasoned that, with her reputation in the gta and nyc, she’d need the bit of knowledge in how to clean up her messes. even if she wasn’t the one who had that responsibility

though.. the entire time has been spent sleeping with some of her rich friends, drinking and smoking pot, with the occasional hit of whatever clean enough drug that one of her friends had on them

as of now, she’s pissing off her neighbours with her house parties wherever she might be at a given time, staying in the good graces of the media as a budding, fun yet classy heiress — despite doing dumb shit the second she’s inside of a gala or club

uhhh ik i had something else to add but a quick break for dinner messed that up, rip LKGFSJD

personality and shit

her little blurb on my indie is: refined party girl still set in her ways with her future left uncompromised; detached and pretentious, she soaks up the attention that continues to roll in

which. we’ve basically been over already lkdfsg but still

if i were to use a label to describe her, she’d be the sovereign

she’s messy as hell, but puts on the façade of a poised woman who has some fun because she knows it bodes well

she’s not a complete dick per se, but she can be snide and boastful

big superiority complex, independent and lives lavishly with reckless abandon

probably jets back and forth between nyc and the gta as it’s her version of normal, so ig she hates the environment if it means not having things go her way !

non-committal as all hell and will abandon girl code if she drops you fgkljfs

.. fr, she’ll fuck an ex-friend’s ex if she technically saw them first, so being spiteful and resolving some past attraction ?? right up her alley !

hence the choice of headline gdfslkj

keeps her true inner circle small, but gets off on attention and likes to stay cordial with some people, so she’s got quite a few friends all the same

she’ll fight tooth and nail to protect her image and won’t hesitate to throw anyone under the bus to do so/in retaliation if they screw her over

which happens to mean that her family is to be protected as well. fuck with any of her sisters ?? you’re done ! try to call out one of her brothers on twitter ? she’ll quote it with a single clown emoji as a warning

there really isn’t much to expand on tbh, though i will say that her emboldened nature and need for a good time however she can get it comes out more than her uglier side ( except her vanity. that’ll never go away ksfdg )

some quick plot ideas

a childhood friend or two that she made in either of her main hubs or through events she attended when she was young, whether they’re still friends or not for x reasons can be discussed of course

could carry over into a trio type of thing depending on where she stands with either of them, or they’re a different couple of pals she’s made in the last few years

enemies are always fun ! probably rooted in a competitive streak more than anything else but i’m all ears for a more complex reason

ex-hookup(s), current hookup(s), throw it all at me klgfjd

a hateship/ewb would be fun with her too, oh my god sfdgklj

it should go without saying that they are all relatively wealthy or well-connected kids here, but that doesn’t mean that someone who’s using her for their fifteen seconds of fame, or just to get some perks out of their friendship, is necessarily a write-off — not that she cares too much about fake friends, face value hype and knowing they need her more than she needs them gives her too much satisfaction fkskgls

an ex-something, open to anyone. either someone her parents forced on her to straighten her out that she wound up liking…. after a good period of her telling them to fuck off sdglk or someone she’d been seeing for a while at her own accord. would’ve ended the same way: with her calling it off because she didn’t want to settle down, not even for a relationship ( and perhaps bc she’s scared of commitment with her cracked family dynamic that’s been a thing since age two, but that’s another story jsdfkg )

#╰ 💎 . ❪ 𝐖𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐒 ↝ ooc #sixhqintro #me getting this done the second it hits 3pm pst ?? tragic when i've had ages to tuck this away in drafts LGDKS

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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years ago

Text

i can hear the echoes of the past

written by: @havocsss and @hyuroiofficial

summary: Roy had lost - traded - his vision, in exchange for this monster to wear Hughes’ skin [an illustrated fic]

read on ao3

ship: hyuroi | rating: t | words: 3187 | tags: hyuroi, canon character death, blind!roy, homunculus!hughes, emotional manipulation, implied alcohol abuse, one-sided attraction

an: this is an illustrated fic on ao3. all the fantastic artwork has been created by the brilliant mind of @hyuroiofficial. you can find their tumblr post containing the artwork here

“Yo, Roy!”

Roy froze in place. His head whipped around of its own accord, trying to see where the voice was coming from, but it was a pointless search. His eyesight was gone and no matter how hard he willed himself to see, it would never happen.

But still… That jovial greeting. That voice… Roy knew it.

It was not the first time he thought he’d heard it. The voice was something that haunted his nearly every waking moment. With gritted teeth, Roy forced himself to continue forward.

It’s not real. Stop it! His brain shouted, but it did nothing to stop his mind from conjuring the sound of the late Maes Hughes. Roy would scream and yell until he went mad with it, trying to rid himself of such a cruel trick.

There were times when the deep reverberation of Hughes’ imagined voice echoing through the confines of his skull reassured Roy, pushed him forward and fueled him, but now Roy became completely unsettled by it. The uncomfortable feeling coiled inside of his gut, threatening to crawl up his spine and arrest his movements completely.

“Ignoring me? Well, that’s just rude,” Hughes scoffed playfully.

“Shut up,” Roy muttered through his teeth. Not real, not real, not real. It was a mantra that sounded in time with the loud patter of his footsteps.

His body was viciously jerked to the side. Vicious for Roy, because of his blindness. Being beyond the gate had seen to that. His cane dropped from his grasp in surprise, hitting the ground with a loud clatter. Instinctively he reached for his pocket to get his gloves, but a hand quickly batted it away.

Hughes tutted. “As if I didn’t expect a move like that,” he chuckled. “I’ve known you too long, Roy.”

This was not Maes Hughes. He was dead -

“Wh - What?” Roy gasped in pain as the grip on his arm grew stronger. There was something sharp on his bicep, threatening to cut through his clothes with a heavy stinging pressure. It might have already sliced through. If only I could see!

Jerking his arm free from the grasp, Roy stumbled as the arm pushed him forward. It left him off balance and unaware of what direction he was facing. From the smell of damp and food waste, they could be in an alleyway. However, without his sight and after being thrown so off kilter by the sudden supposed appearance of his very dead friend, Roy was unable to determine where the exit was. He cursed his lack of attention to his surroundings. He used to be a military man, his lack of sight leading to his early retirement. The military had no use for a dog that couldn’t see. But with Roy’s past military experience he shouldn’t have been reduced to such useless stature, regardless of who was in front of him and no matter how much they used to mean to Roy.

“Hey.” Roy could almost picture the grin on this person’s face. It was evident in their light, flirty tone.

“What do you want?” Roy growled. He wouldn’t have someone trying to cruelly trick him into thinking his best friend, his… They had been so much more than best friends at one point… The memories of what had been - what could have been if they’d only allowed it to blossom further - flooded Roy. It weaved through his ribs like ivy and strangled the oxygen from his lungs, leaving him suddenly breathless.

“It’s me, Hughes!”

Roy froze again, stricken with the pain that name gave him. He was foolish to think he could hear Hughes’ name without experiencing agony. No, keep it together!

“Just wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.”

“Maes Hughes is dead,” Roy replied, forcing a deadly calm to take over his entire being. Just underneath the surface of his skin, anger was beginning to bubble. His fury was a fiery thing, like the flames of his alchemy, as it hotly licked through his veins. How dare this person try to impersonate Hughes -

Roy grunted as his back hit something solid and hard, the air temporarily knocked out of him with the shock of it. A hand gripped his hip, but not painfully, nearly gentle, yet in a mocking fashion. A thumb slipped underneath his suit jacket, caressing Roy’s skin softly through his white shirt. Roy shivered despite himself. The other hand tangled in Roy’s hair as he voiced a protest, only for it to be swallowed by wanton lips. Teeth nipped at Roy’s bottom lip and he groaned.

He knew that mouth. The kiss was all too reminiscent of something that had been precious to Roy, no matter how short lived that something had been.

“Now are you convinced?” Hughes murmured quietly. Roy shook as Hughes’ hand caressed the skin of his jaw, crawling slowly up to tangle in Roy’s hair. But… The nails were sharp. They dug into his scalp with a whisper - with a threat - of pain. Yet where Hughes’ touch had always been kind, this touch taunted him, bordering on cruelty. “Humans have been known to say they always remember a touch of a lover.”

Maes Hughes is dead. You were at his funeral.

Roy shoved the man off and away from him, wiping the back of his hand over his swollen lips. The teeth that had nipped at him had not been kind. In the spur of the moment, the remembrance of his past lover’s touch, Roy had been lost to it. Now, his lips stung.

“Wh… What are you?” Roy whispered. He cursed his inability to see. He needed to verify what was happening with his own eyes. Despite his distrust, hope was building in his chest, a fruitless thing. Feelings that had long lain dormant were beginning to rebloom, like a flower in spring.

“It’s me, Roy. It’s Maes.” Hughes pleaded all false promises.

Roy shook his head. “He’s dead. He died. I was at the funeral. I tried…” Bile stopped him from talking further, bitter and thick on his tongue. The guilt and the shame of what he’d done haunting him.

“I know you attempted the transmutation,” Hughes replied. Roy heard him step closer and his body tensed, every muscle pulled taunt with encroaching panic.

He had to attempt it, his grief had been too palatable, a world without Hughes too heavy a burden to bear. The loss of Hughes had consumed him, pushed him, and left Roy recollecting everything he’d learned on human transmutation years ago to finally put it into action.

“And I know it failed. Or could it be considered a failure, if I’m here now? Regardless, it’s all because of you, so thank you. And…” Roy knew that sickening smirk was back. “I thought I’d show you it was really me.” Hughes’ voice was low and soft, a nearly inaudible whisper that left Roy leaning nearer. Almost like it had been when they shared tangled limbs, lips, and breaths back in academy…

They’d never had much more than that, nothing more than youthful foolish passion. Or so Roy told himself. But it didn’t stop the feelings he held for Hughes from developing further. Nothing could stop that. Nothing could stop the way his heart beat hard against his ribcage every time Maes Hughes smiled at him or slung a muscular arm across Roy’s shoulder. Or when Hughes was so close Roy could smell the coffee on his breath. They were feelings Roy forced himself to swallow. They would not further his goal and would only torment him.

He was unsure if Hughes knew of his feelings for him and how deeply they were rooted. Obviously, Hughes had made his choice and he’d married Gracia. Roy respected that and would support his decision completely, because Hughes’ happiness was of the utmost importance. But it didn’t stop Roy from loving him, from aching and yearning alone at night, a once full bottle of whisky in his weakened grasp. Anything Roy could get, whether it was friendship or simply being an acquaintance due to their past, Roy would take, would eagerly devour. He was always thankful Hughes had decided to keep him in his life.

“I can’t trust that… Or you,” Roy admitted in a whisper.

“I know you can’t,” Hughes replied casually. It sounded like he shrugged. “But it was a nice way to try to convince you. Probably the best way, actually, seeing as you were about to set me alight.”

Roy’s blood ran cold at the reminder. That simmering anger was making itself known again, spilling forth into the forefront of his mind. It coursed through him quickly, almost leaving him breathless. A reminder that this can’t be real. Not in the way he wanted it to be. Not in the way his alcohol riddled brain dreamed of.

He’d never seen his failed transmutation. He couldn’t after what the gate took from him. Hawkeye had cleared it away for him. She told him what it was like and that grotesque image he’d created from her description would be burned into his mind for the rest of his days. Another horror added to the long list of those he’d cultivated already.

You tried the transmutation. Maes Hughes is dead.

“You’re not real,” Roy muttered, shaking his head, resolute in his denial. Hughes sighed heavily. “What have you done -?” Roy growled.

“Jeez, Roy. I haven’t done anything. It’s me. Hughes. Well,” he added the smug tone returning to the conversation. Roy’s nauseous stomach rolled with it. “Not exactly. And I prefer the name Lust now. It’s got a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“What?” Roy paled.

“Yeah, I like it! Okay, maybe this will convince you. In the academy, we used to sneak away to the guard tower and kiss until we couldn’t breathe anymore.” His voice grew closer, like he was approaching slowly.

Or like a lion stalking its prey.

If it were possible, Roy paled further, suddenly cold. He remembered it clearly and always would, in the way the memories were just as much a blessing as a curse. The feel of Hughes’ calloused palms framing his face, the adrenaline that coursed through Roy’s veins at the thought of getting caught. They’d been young and reckless, eighteen, hidden away in the empty tower as moonlight painted their skin silver.

“Hughes was very aware of your feelings for him, but downplayed it. Then, he met and married his wife.” If Roy hadn’t been shaking, he would have smacked the smirk off this thing’s face. “He left you behind, choosing her over you. But he never forgot. He kept you in his life, kept you close, just to see if you’d ever snap. He knew you wanted to.” Hughes’ voice dropped low. Dangerously so. Roy’s breath hitched when he felt Hughes’ hot words ghost over the skin of his face. “He always admired your self control,” Hughes chuckled.

“That’s a lie. You’re not Hughes,” Roy whispered, sweat collecting anxiously at the nape of his neck. Hughes would never be so manipulative or callous towards him. Yet still it pained Roy to hear.

“In a way… No, I guess I’m not. But I’m so much better.” He said violently, the smirk reappearing in his tone.

“Lieutenant Colonel… Hughes?”

Roy stiffened. The voice came from behind him. It sounded so frightened, so shocked.

Edward and Alphonse.

Roy had been so distracted he hadn’t heard the boys approach.

“Hey, kids,” Hughes greeted.

“Wh…” The clank of metal shifting signalled Al’s armored steps. He stopped dead in his tracks a few feet away. Roy didn’t blame him. If Roy could see Hughes, he would have had the same reaction. But Roy had lost - traded - his vision, in exchange for this monster to wear Hughes’ skin.

“What are you?” Edward barked, immediately on the defensive.

“Ed?” Alphonse asked quietly. Surprise still laced his tone as he tried to recover from his shock.

“Look at his clothes, Al. And that tattoo. What are you doing?” Ed repeated, raising his voice to call over to Hughes.

“I think you can guess. I imagine you already know,” Hughes replied, his tone full of smug cruelty.

“Mustang, get away from him. Please!” Alphonse begged.

It made sense they’d connected the dots right away. Hughes must be wearing the homunculus’ style of clothing. And the tattoo… Roy’s stomach flipped, sickeningly. He swallowed hard against it. He hadn’t even thought about a damn tattoo.

“That’s not Lieutenant Colonel Hughes,” Edward snarled. “And how dare you use his face!”

Heavy footsteps rushed forwards, approaching at a rapid pace. Edward was charging, ready to fight, but Roy seized up with one thought alone inside his head. That can’t happen.

Roy reached out frantically, and miraculously, his arms snaked around Edward’s torso. He gripped hard, as if all their lives depend on it - and maybe they did. Roy stopped the teenager from getting any closer. A part of him, the largest part, had his instincts screaming at him to protect Edward. Without his sight Roy couldn’t fully assess the risk Hughes’ posed, but Roy deemed him dangerous enough. His heart wanted to believe Hughes would never harm Ed or him, however his head won out. And Roy may not be the boy’s commanding officer anymore, but he would still protect Edward as best he could.

A smaller, more vulnerable part of him, that swelled within the cavity of his chest and was ruled by the pulse of his heart, told Roy not to let anyone harm Hughes. It was Hughes’ voice he’d heard. It was Hughes’ touch that had graced Roy’s skin, regardless of the hint of cruelty that had been there… Roy recognised it and he wouldn’t let anyone hurt Hughes. Not after he’d just been returned to Roy. Losing Hughes a second time was a weight that Roy wasn’t sure he could carry.

Edward fought, and fought hard, swearing and pushing with his efforts to escape Roy’s grasp, but Roy’s grip was ironclad. He wouldn’t let go. He wouldn’t let Hughes’ hurt Edward and in turn, he wouldn’t let Ed hurt Hughes.

“Brother, calm down -!” Al peeped, metallic and echoing in his armored suit.

The thunder of two gunshots sounded. Roy’s body tensed, expecting a blow, but none came. Quick steps moved towards him, causing Roy to grip onto Edward tighter. Whatever new threat had arrived, Roy would do his best to protect the boys.

“I’ll be back to see you soon, Roy.” The emphasis Hughes made on his name caused Roy to shudder, a steady set of tremors travelling down his spine. Not in anticipation, but in fear. It was foreboding. So unlike the Maes Hughes he once knew.

In the group’s startled moment, Hughes took advantage and darted off. Roy, unable to watch him disappear, listened to the sound of his shoes dissipate down the alley until there was no sound at all. His heart sunk to the pit of his gut. The floor collapsing beneath his feet.

The following silence was all encompassing as Edward stopped struggling. The fight had gone from him so Roy loosened his grip. Roy’s knees shook and he felt himself falling steadily to the ground. He landed with a thud, but there was no pain. Only disbelief as it caused his limbs to shake. His palms were sweating against the legs of his slacks while gripping his thighs in an attempt to quell his trembles.

“That… That was... Lieutenant Colonel Hughes…” Alphonse whispered from behind him.

The sound of heavy footsteps approached, but Roy barely registered it, too lost in his clouded haze of sorrow and shock.

“Is… Is that how you really lost your eyesight?” Edward asked. Then his tone turned hard and unforgiving. “Is it?” he growled.

Roy didn’t reply, didn't need to, his sins so very apparent. Even if Hughes never held him again, never kissed Roy’s lips or professed his love again, Roy’s motivations behind his transmutation were simple. Roy just wanted to see his friend - the one that held his heart always - smile at him again. However, because of his efforts, he'd never see again.

“What did you do?” Edward shouted, suddenly very close to Roy’s face, breath hot and angry.

It was ironic, Roy thought, that Edward should face him with such fury - a fury Roy felt deserving of - for if anyone could understand Roy’s drive to see a loved one again, it would be Edward. But perhaps it was that understanding that left young Edward so shaken.

“Edward.” The bark was short and sharp, a warning. Roy would recognise it anywhere. The new voice explained the sudden gunshots perfectly. In the heat of the moment, and with the fear of Hughes’ warning, Roy forgot that had happened.

Suddenly, gentle hands were on him, guiding him to stand.

“On your feet, Mustang,” Hawkeye commanded. Her tone was soft so it didn’t jarr him too roughly back to reality. “Here,” Hawkeye murmured. The familiar shape of his cane was pressed into Roy’s shaking hands. He gripped it tightly, the certainty of it a reassuring thing even as his fingers quivered around it.

“Th - Thank you, Hawkeye.”

"What was that, Sir?" He wasn't her superior anymore, but old habits die hard, Roy supposed.

"It was him."

"Who?" Riza urged. She was on edge. Roy heard it in the swiftness of her question.

Roy paled, finally admitting it for the first time to himself. The reality of what he’d done - what he created - was crushing. "Maes Hughes."

No one spoke. Silence fell as Roy tried to get his breathing under control. The only sound in the small alley was the desperate gasps of his inhales and frantic wheeze of his exhales.

“All right, Sir,” Hawkeye agreed quietly, and he was grateful for her continued kindness and support despite his faults. She was his best friend and Roy owed her, for so many things, for not refuting him, for allowing him, no matter how false, the image of Maes Hughes he clung to. She grasped his arm carefully, tugging him forward, encouraging him to walk. “Let’s get back to the car.”

Roy knew from the tone of her voice she didn’t quite believe him, but she didn't argue. Not yet, and Roy didn’t blame her. Hell, he wouldn’t have believed it either, if it weren’t for the press of Hughes’ eager lips against his own and the deep rumble of Hughes’ voice through his chest. They were familiar things, even if now they haunted him and stained him with fear and uncertainty. Roy wasn’t ready to let the frightening comfort of their familiarity go yet. They branded him - consumed him - and he allowed it. Even as his common sense returned and his heart rate slowed, he was struggling to accept everything.

Roy was glad Hawkeye was giving him this small solace. For now, anyway. Because as Maes Hughes had spoken - threatened - he’d be back again soon.

And Roy would be waiting.

#hyuroi #hyuroi fic #hyuroi fanfic #hyuroiofficial #collab fic #emma writes #i can hear the echoes of the past

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howtodisassembleyourdeviant · 5 years ago

Text

Be My Garden of Eden Ch.1

ConnorxFReader Pleasure Android AU

I finally decided to get a Tumblr and post more of my beta chapters here. Just a place to get some opinions or a wider gauge of how people feel about my writing.

I also take requests for ConnorxReader one-shots.

If you like what I post, I also have stories posted on AO3 under DisassembledDeviant. If you have read them, you know I don't mind venturing into the NSFW category... At all. ;)

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Warnings: probably cursing and sexual implications

"Goddammit! You stupid piece of shit!" The wrench came down hard against the android's shoulder. "I should have just left your ass with the rest of the scrap!" Another blow, this time to his chest, warnings of the damage flashing on his HUD.

Connor couldn't help but agree.

His recollection of his life before working at Club Mimosa in the seedier side of town was minimal. A roof, A little girl, Falling... Then, nothing. Just a name. Connor.

The owner had found him in the scrapyard, looking for replacement parts or functional androids he could illegally fix up for his club. While much of his body was destroyed, the owner re-built him. His unique look was sure to capture new clients, and he was right. Connor started as a popular model. Both males and females would pay for a session with the doe-eyed android.

However, no matter what he was 'equipped' with, it was apparent he was not programmed to please humans sexually. His movements were stiff, his reactions lackluster. Most demanded a refund, as his last client did. The owner was getting fed up, and the beatings were getting worse. Before the owner could take another swing, one of the employees entered the workshop.

"Hey, boss, someone is requesting Connor for delivery."

"Fuck!" The owner sneered, "tell them it will be on its way in a minute!" He turned to Connor, tossing the wrench on the metal table behind him, attempting to be intimidating. Connor didn't even give him the satisfaction of imitating fear, simply watching the middle-aged man turn redder by the second. "Fix yourself up, then go to the client's address, and if you fuck this one up, I'll scrap you for parts!"

Connor was sitting in an automatic taxi ten minutes later, dressed in a simple button-up and jeans, the familiar illuminated triangle on his back. There was still a small dent on his chest, but he couldn't do anything about it, only hope the client doesn't notice. Outside, he watched the protesters, harassing androids, the homeless begging for change on the street corners, and all the people, heads down at their phones while ordering their androids to do various tasks they were perfectly capable of doing themselves. It... Bothered him.

Not as much as working at that terrible club. He wonders what would happen if he never turned up at the client's address, if he got out of the taxi and just kept walking. Would the owner bother hunting him down? He didn't want to be touched, used by people in such a humiliating way. No matter how many times he was disinfected, he felt dirty. Catching his reflection in the window, he turned away. Even if he left, where could he go? These... Thoughts are dangerous.

The taxi led him to a more rural area of the city, a small house with several trees surrounding it, the Autumn leaves dancing gracefully through the air. He had to double-check the address. This was far nicer than anywhere he had gone before. He walked up the cobblestone path to the door, a soft chime ringing when he pressed the doorbell.

"Coming!" A singsong voice called from inside. The door opened, revealing a young woman, dressed in a tight black turtleneck, jeans, and an apron covered in various paints, some of which had gotten on your cheek and the tip of your nose. You were... cute... For human standards, that is.

"Hello, my name is Connor. I'm the Android sent by Club Mimosa for your personal pleasure."

Confusion, realization, and exasperation washed over your face in waves. Eventually, you sighed.

"Come on in and have a seat."

He entered the little home to find it just as cozy on the inside as it was on the outside. The colors gave off a feeling of warmth, the small trinkets and figurines adding to the atmosphere. Usually, the homes or apartments he had been to were run down, a few even host to drug dealers. He didn't know there was a place like this in Detroit.

Above your fireplace was a portrait, an abstract painting of a pair of hands reaching out. Based on your appearance, he initially assumed it was yours, but a quick scan informed him it was a Carl Manfred original. He didn't know much of art, but he did know that Carl Manfred was a renowned artist of Detroit and a favorite of the android creator, Elijah Kamski.

He stood in the doorway, unsure what to do.

"Make yourself at home."

He didn't know how to respond to that.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand your request." Your eyes seemed sad. He was already screwing things up.

"I guess take your shoes off and make yourself comfortable." While he was able to follow the first instruction, he still remained in the doorway. You hesitantly reached out and took his hand, leading him to the loveseat before sitting him down.

Usually, this would be the part where the client would straddle his lap, grind on his crotch while forcing their tongue in his mouth, the rancid taste of red ice, cigarettes, and alcohol broken down to their basic ingredients as he ignored the urge to shove them away. He sat back, expecting the same. He had a task to do, and this time, his life was on the line. Instead, you headed for your kitchen, coming back with a cold beverage.

"I don't have anything to offer you, sorry."

"I do not require anything, " nobody had even thought to offer him anything before, let alone apologize for not having it. It left him fumbling for words, clutching onto repeated phrases he hated, "I am here for you to do with as you please."

You sipped your drink, a small giggle leaving your lips. He liked how it sounded, even if he was confused as to why.

"To be honest, I didn't call for you."

Something inside him sank. Of course this was too good to be true.

"I'm sorry. There must have been an error in our system. I will take my leave now." He went to stand, but you put your hand on his knee, stilling his motions.

"There is no error. A well-meaning friend has been concerned with how much time I spend working and believes I need to let loose sometimes. This is exactly something he would do."

"Oh, " he was still disappointed that you hadn't been the one to call directly. Your hand was still on his knee. You only seemed to notice when he glances down at it, quickly pulling your hand back and apologizing again. Your cheeks even flushed, the red only adding to your beauty. You were so different from everything Connor has known.

"So, Connor, " even his name sounded pleasant coming from you, "how long did my friend request you for?"

"24 hours."

"That long? How much stamina does he think I have?" You looked him in the eye, "though, I have no intention of sleeping with you."

"Why?" He had to have done something wrong. He's dead if he goes back empty-handed. You noticed the panic in his voice, his LED flashing a bright red.

"It's nothing you did, I'm just not the type to sleep with just anybody."

"But I'm not 'anybody'. I am a machine made to please humans. If I fail, they will destroy me." Your eyes widened. How could they do such a thing? Even if they are machines, how could they kill them so easily? If it weren't for that light on his head and the android labeled clothes, you would think him a human. Especially with the desperation he showed.

"Calm down. I'll call whichever club you came from tomorrow and tell them you were the best lay of my life. Everything will be fine." His LED flickered on yellow for a second before returning to blue. He was not going to be destroyed.

"Thank you." He didn't know what else to say or how to show his appreciation. You were lying just to keep a machine from shutting down. It might not mean much to you, but you were saving his life. You smiled nervously as he stared in awe.

"Don't mention it. Now, the TV remote is on the coffee table, there's a list of movies I own on there that you are welcome to watch. If not, there's books and a stereo over by the front window. If you need anything, just let me know."

"Where are you going?"

"To my studio. It's just down the hall, the last door on the end, " he only looked more lost and confused, "you can come with me if you like."

He stood, following you down the hall. At one time, it must have been the garage, but it has since been modified, the back portion knocked out and replaced with glass, revealing a small koi pond in the back, a statue of a lion prowling the edge, water pouring from its open mouth. Ivy climbed the walls inside, the sun shining through the leaves. Paintings lined the walls, some finished and some abandoned. Looking them over, he found he liked them. They were colorful. Your style favored realism, yet they seemed to hold a sense of wonder, something he couldn't put into words. There was one of a beagle, lying next to a roaring fire.

"Someone wanted a painting of their recently deceased pet as a memorial. A friend of mine had the same breed and let me borrow her for two weeks. There are some slight differences, to match the owner's photo."

"It's beautiful." He didn't have too many memories of dogs, though one did try to bite him at a client's house, but looking at this one, he could imagine the warmth from the fire, almost touch its fur, and hear the tiny snores coming from the beast. It made him want to be there.

You had moved before an easel, a painting sitting half-finished already on it. It was of a clinical white pot sitting on a wooden table, several cracks along it, revealing bits of dirt, roots, and leaves. The top was unfinished, just shades of reds and blues, blending to violet in a few spots. Various photos of plants were lying about your workspace, and across from you was a cheap, plastic flower arrangement.

You wasted no time getting back to work, a fresh brush in hand. Connor stood, watching you, mesmerized by your focus and the grace in each stroke of the brush. You felt awkward, being observed so closely, but quickly fell back into the task at hand. Ten minutes of him just standing there though was too much.

"You can sit down if you like." He found the closest chair to him and sat down, perfectly straight, hands in his lap. "Just relax, this is a safe environment."

It took time, but after half an hour, he leaned back into the chair, and in another hour, he was standing again, looking around the studio at all the different paintings, the plants that kept this place feeling more vibrant, and he stared out at the koi pond, watching the fish. You had told him how to get to the back for a closer look, but he made no moves to leave.

"I couldn't help but notice you have a Carl Manfred original in your living room," He broke the silence. "It must have been quite expensive."

You continued to paint, "It probably would be. It was a graduation gift. Carl was my mentor. Our styles are completely different, but I don't think I could ask for a better teacher or friend."

"I see," Connor returned to sitting down, watching you once again. "What made you want to become a painter?"

You brought the brush to your chin, thinking.

"Well, I've always liked to draw. A lot of people in my family were artistic, but they never did anything with it. They believed it wasn't a good career path. I guess I just wanted to prove it was. Though, I will say it can be an uphill battle. Sometimes I can sell a painting or get commissions with ease, other times I look at my paintings and wonder if I'll get any nutritional value if I just ate them. It seems to be the only value I could get."

He nodded, even if he didn't really understand what you meant. He had never heard of the term "starving artist".

"You've got paint on your face." You pulled the brush away, wiping at your chin, succeeding only in spreading it around. You could hear Connor suppressing a laugh. Looking over, you could see him trying to hide his smile. A part of you found it adorable, while another was saddened. Why hide such a nice smile? Was he forbidden from smiling, or could it be because it was technically at the client's expense?

You pushed it from your mind. As much as it pained you, you couldn't afford to get involved. You had it calculated. The commission would go to restocking your food, paying the water bill, and the mortgage. The painting in front of you would go towards paying your electric bill, along with the late charge they tacked on. If you don't finish it on time, you'll miss the deadline and will be painting in the dark, not to mention how that could hurt your reputation for future commissions. Carl would loan you the money if you asked, but you refused to take advantage of him like that. You will earn your place, even if it kills you.

"I guess I'll go wash up, " you giggled. Connor stood, as if to follow you. "Why don't you pick a movie we can watch when I get out of the shower?"

"You don't wish for me to accompany you?" All his other clients had. Your cheeks flushed.

"N-no, no, thank you! I can do it myself, " you stammered. You were embarrassed. Connor liked how you stuttered and when your cheeks turned red.

After a few minutes of sitting on the couch, he started to hear your voice from the bathroom. Curious, he moved a little closer, just outside the door. You were singing. He... Liked it. You couldn't quite hit the high notes, and your lows sounded more like growls, but it was sweet and melodic. He stifled another laugh when you started singing what sounded like a duet, but one of the singers was a male.

He'd never laughed before, or even had the inclination. He didn't know if he should laugh out loud or if you wouldn't like that. Was he allowed to laugh? The female androids at the club, particularly the Tracis, often giggled at clients, but the males rarely did, and it was usually nothing more than a huff or a scoff. Despite his worries, he liked the feeling that accompanied the involuntary action. He leaned against the wall, listening to you until he heard the water shut off, moving swiftly to the couch as to not arouse suspicion.

The rest of the evening was quiet, something Connor wasn't used to. There was no loud groaning or terrible derogatory names. No claws digging into his back, threatening to break through his synthetic skin, or rough hands clutching his hips. Just you and him, sitting on your small couch, a cartoon playing on your screen. He had never chosen a movie before, never chose anything before, yet when he showed interest in it, you didn't hesitate to put it on. It was childish, but he was greatly enjoying it, enjoying being with you.

Halfway through the third movie, he felt a weight on his shoulder. You had fallen asleep, your head resting against him. You appeared so serene, softly snoring. He had never met anyone like you. Nobody had ever treated him with such kindness. In one afternoon, you had flipped his whole world upside down.

When the movie ended, you woke up, the loud end credit music startling you. Realizing just who you were using as a pillow, you could feel your cheeks heating up.

"Sorry."

"It's fine." He smiled down at you, your eyes glazed over with exhaustion, "Perhaps you should retire for the night."

You hummed, stretching before a thought came to you.

"Why don't you take my bed and I'll take the couch? You're far too tall for it."

He gaped at you. You would give up your bed, your comfort, for him? A machine?

"I... Don't require sleep..." He said in a hushed tone, still in shock.

You seemed unsure of what to do. "Well, what do you usually do?"

His mind played memories of working a pole or acting 'tantalizing' behind glass. Not really helpful in this situation.

"Sometimes I enter stasis between clients, " he murmured. Usually for repairs after the owner beats him, but it seemed the only appropriate response.

"Stasis... that's, like, sleeping for androids, right?"

"I suppose it's similar."

"Well, come on then," you took his hand and hauled him to his feet, leading him down the hall to your bedroom. Your bed was so plush, he sank into it when you sat him down. With your urging, he positioned himself to lay back into the pillows. You went to the closet, pulling out a spare blanket.

"You make yourself comfortable, and I'll be on the couch if you need anything."

"I couldn't take your bed. I don't require sleep, you do, " he tried to stand, but you gently pushed him back down.

"The couch is comfortable enough. I don't mind."

"Since you're so insistent, why don't we share the bed?"

The heat returned to your cheeks. Your mouth was gaping open, as if to argue why not, but eventually, you said nothing. You didn't want to admit this would be your first time having a man share your bed. Instead, you walked to the other side of the bed, the flush on your cheeks spreading to your ears and neck as you climbed in. You laid on your side, facing away from him.

"Good night, Connor," You mumbled under your breath.

"Good night, Y/n."

He wished tomorrow would never come, that he could stay here forever instead. It was such an insignificant day, yet it meant everything to him. Here, he felt a peace he never knew existed outside his daily hell. He wanted to pull you close, feel the warmth he felt as he sat next to you on the couch, the weight of your head on his shoulder again, but for the first time, he felt like the greedy one. He did turn to lay on his side, just a few more inches closer to you, just barely able to register the heat radiating off your body. It will have to be enough.

You, on the other hand, could not sleep. Not only because you were sharing a bed with a man, a very attractive man at that, but because you felt guilty. Your "friend" couldn't have picked a worse time. He was a polarizing character whom you knew since middle school. He dropped out of high school and started selling drugs. He deals with anything but red ice, and as he grew more powerful on the streets, he would sell prescription drugs to people who couldn't afford their medications at a much cheaper rate. Something like a robin hood character, though he still sold hardcore drugs to violent criminals, so you were at a loss how to feel about him. He liked androids though, having been raised by one, who was also his right-hand man. He wouldn't dare take blue blood from his friend just for a few bucks and finds red ice to be deplorable.

He knows you like androids and how you feel about them, so, occasionally, he would send one to your place to 'liberate'. With your connections, you could help get androids across the border, or if needed, you could help them find Jericho, the android safe haven. Because of his stance on androids, he couldn't help directly without risking his own safety, so he was like an informant (except you didn't ask for the information, he would just leave it with you, knowing you wouldn't just look the other way like any smart human that wanted to live a healthy life would do).

Most of the time, they were abuse victims that ran away from their owner after he told them where to find you. Unless they were damaged, they were easy enough to deal with. Occasionally, though, he would send you an Android he suspected of abuse that came from some sleazy sex club. It was part of the reason you were broke. The last one was from a more upscale club and cost you $7,000 just to get her out. You had to sell your car just to make your mortgage payment on time. Must be nice to have all these ideals but not spend a dime to support them. Though you supposed he did send supplies to your house on occasion, blue blood or sometimes food, not much, but it would get you by. It was as if he wanted you to be on the cusp of hatred toward him.

You couldn't afford to help this time, and it tore you apart on the inside. Connor wasn't like the others, not only in appearance, but in his manners. He came from a sex club, but he was clearly uncomfortable with it, and not just because he didn't want to satisfy humans. He genuinely didn't know what he is supposed to do. Any other Traci would have been flirting or trying to fondle you before you could even begin to explain the situation. With Connor, you couldn't tell him what you do. It would be far too cruel, knowing you couldn't save him. All you could offer was a day of solace. It was nowhere near enough, but it was all you had.

The next day, he returned to the club. You had been reluctant to let him go, but when he told you how much another night would be, you blanched. It couldn't be helped. He can only hope you or your friend might call for his services once again. You embraced him before he left, promising that you would see him again. He carried that warmth all the way back to the club.

#connor #rk800 #rk800 connor reader #connor fanfiction #detroit become human #video games #connor reader #connor x reader #dbh au #dbh connor #dbh

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folktalesandmythsandlegends · 4 years ago

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Seleme and Dionysus

So one day Zeus, the king of the Olympian gods, visited Earth and he saw a drop-dead beautiful woman named Semele. Zeus is all like "I have to have her" because Zeus can't control himself. Ever. So he changes his appearance so Hera, his wife and Queen of the Olympians won't find out and keeps it a secret. So Semele and Zeus start to see each other, and everything is great, until Hera finds out about this. Hera, being the jealous wife/sister of Zeus decides that her honor is ruined, and she's so angry that she's out for blood. She has to destroy Semele at all costs. So she disguises herself as a mortal woman. Not just any mortal woman, she is a handmaiden to Semele herself. Hera becomes BFF's with Semele. She does her hair and nails and helps pick out her outfits and likes all her selfies. Of course, Hera is one of the few Olympians who actually thinks about what to do and had formulated a plan. She wanted all the details on Zeus and Semele's relationship.

So one day while doing each other’s nails Hera asks Semele, “Do you think your boyfriend actually loves you? I heard a rumor he was actually Zeus, is that true?”

So thinking that they are great friends Semele says, "Listen, Zeus totally loves me. He loves me so much that he promised to do whatever I ask of him to do. He even played that Ain't No Mountain High Enough song for me and it was so romantic. I guess you could say it's pretty serious."

Hera thinks to herself "Yes! My totally evil plan to defeat Semele and get back at Zeus is going to be better than I thought! I am so awesome and beautiful." So she goes back to Semele and says that if Zeus would do anything for her she should ask him to show off all his awesomeness, the same way he did when he was dating, Hera. And Semele thinks it’s a great idea.

So Zeus comes by later and is like "Hey babe, how's it going?"

So Semele says everything is great. So later when they are going on a romantic date at the local drive-in movie theatre Semele says "Hey, do you remember that sacred oath you said about doing anything I ask you?"

And he's all like "Sure I remember. What do you want? Do you want to be Queen of Greece? Or more servants and money?" And she says "No. I want to see all your awesomeness the exact same way you did with Hera." Zeus doesn't want to, but because he promised her, he agreed to show off all his power and awesomeness. He has strobe lights, a disco ball, a fog machine, confetti, there was loud music playing in the background. It was too much awesomeness for Semele so she screamed, burst into flame, and died. Zeus knew he was her baby Daddy though so he grabbed the baby she was six months pregnant with, and sewed him into his thigh to hide him from Hera. So Dionysus grows and when it's time for him to be born, Zeus took out the stitches. He then called Hermes over and said "Hera's going to be so ticked if she finds out Dionysus is still alive. So take him to his Aunt Ino and her husband. And to make sure he is super protected makes him look like a girl." Hermes is like "Kay." And does what Zeus said.

Eventually, Hera finds out that Dionysus survived, and she is super ticked. Like ten times as ticked as Zeus thought she would be. She was so ticked that she made Ino and her husband totally crazy. So Zeus took Dionysus and made him a goat. He gave goat Dionysus to some Asian nymphs to take care of, but Hera found him again and made him crazy times 10. So Dionysus is walking around all over the Mediterranean world in places like Egypt and Syria doing these awful crimes like murder and theft when he runs into Rhea, a great goddess, in Phrygia and she makes Dionysus better and forgave him for the bad things he did. She made him the leader of her cult and gave him oriental clothes and an ivy wreath to wear. And he did wear it and never changed. Ever. He taught everyone how to make wine from grapes and how to farm with yolk and ox. People joined his cult, and everyone was happy.

Well most everyone. This dude named Lycurgus, a King of Thrace did not like Dionysus' cult so he didn't let Dionysus sit with him at the plastic’s table, and imprisoned his followers. Dionysus did not like that, so he made Lycurgus so crazy he thought his son was a grapevine that needed pruning, and he murdered his son by chopping off his arms and legs. So the moment Lycurgus' son died he realized what he had done. But Dionysus was not done. He made all of Thrace barren for such a long time that Lycurgus went to go see an oracle. The King was all like "I must have ticked off Dionysus a lot. What do I need to do to make Thrace lush again?" The oracle responded, "You need to die, idiot." So because the king didn't want to die he tried to keep it a secret. And naturally, because it was a secret, everybody in the kingdom found out and they all killed him. It was a mass meeting of 1-800-choke dat hoe.

So then Dionysus went to Thebes, and a profit told the King Pentheus that if he had to do all the religious rites for Dionysus. If he didn't, then all the mothers would tear their children's arms and legs off and decorate the woods with the limbs. Pentheus' own mother would kill him that way. But Pentheus didn't believe him. So Dionysus arrives, and the party doesn’t start till he walks in. So everyone in Thebes is having a party and doing the Dionysus cult thing, and King Pentheus gets word of that. Now Pentheus is really angry. He goes around yelling at everyone and saying that he thought Thebes would have had to be taken by force of an army. “It would at least be more honorable than this!”

So he’s ticked off and demands that Dionysus be captured to determine if he is a fake. But Pentheus’ bros tried to change his mind, but it just made Pentheus even angrier. So his guards went out to try to find Dionysus, but they couldn’t find him because everyone, EVERYONE was too turnt, so they grabbed one of Dionysus’ priests because the guards were afraid to return to the king empty-handed.

So Pentheus roasts Dionysus in front of the priest when the priest decides to tell Pentheus the story of how he met Dionysus.

“It’s like this.” He said. “I was a pirate on a ship when the ship got stuck? So me and my crew spent the night and the next morning we woke up and we were thirsty so we went to go look for water, right? So then this dude wearing purple just shows up on the beach! So my crew got together without me and said “dudes I think this guy is a Prince! We could make a fortune if we sold him!” Right? So they go ashore and this guy is high or turnt, or almost asleep so it should have been easy to chain him right? Wrong! No matter how they tried to put the chains on they kept falling off. They were seriously tripped up by this. But somehow they got him on our boat, and I saw him and was like “This guy looks like a god, and that thing with the chains, he has to be a god.” So then I was yelling at my crew like “Dudes, this guy is a god for real for real! He even looks like a god, and you can’t see that? You might have captured Zeus, or his bro Poseidon, or Zeus’ son Apollo, fools! We can’t take him, ya’ll are trippin,” but my captain was like “Nah bro, you’re crazy just make like Miley Cyrus and Do Your Thing, and we’ll deal with this guy. This dude is rich, not immortal, but the gods must have sent him here to make us rich, you know what I’m saying?”

“So right then the dude wakes up, and is like “Where am I, how did I get here?” But the captain was like “You can hitch a ride with us. Where do you want to go?” So the dude said, “My home is on the island of Naxos.” So the captain was like “Lit, we’ll take you there.” But I knew that this fool was lying, so I didn’t do my job. So the captain made someone else steer the ship. So we are sailing when Purple dude says “Wait we’re not heading towards Naxos! How could you? I came out to have a good time and honestly, I’m feeling so attacked right now.” Then the ship stopped right there, like no movement, like it was dead. So we’re sitting there when suddenly homie points to the sail because there is a grapevine growing, but with vines of ivy growing and a bunch of other fruit and everything was getting covered and then it started to smell sweet, and the deck started to get covered in wine, and everyone was terrified, I mean terrified. We all looked at the purple dude who was really angry. He had on a wreath of ivy and grapes and was shaking a pole called a thyrsi that was covered in ivy and grapevines. Then all these animals appeared out of nowhere by his feet. Like a lynx a tiger and a panther. Then Yogi bear showed up and he was angry, and the dude was too. So he changed into this huge lion and killed the captain. So now everyone is running around trying to find a way to get away, ‘cuz this was some messed up stuff. They were tearing away vines to try to get to the oars that wouldn’t move, when their hands turned to fins, straight up! So they are all trying to jump overboard now, and as soon as they hit the water, BOOM! They were dolphins, for real! Nineteen of my bros became nineteen dolphins. So the young dude turns back into himself and was like “You’re cool, so I saved you. By the way I’m the son of Zeus, Dionysus.” So that was that, and since then me and my Immortal bro Dionysus are tight. And we get more mortal followers all the time, straight up.”

Pentheus was ticked off. “YOU CAN’T SIT WITH US! Take him away and beat him up, then kill him for that stupid story!”

So the guards were preparing his torture and saying to each other that they needed to let him go, when suddenly there was an earthquake, and the door opened and the chains fell and the priest walked out with a fog machine blowing smoke behind him. So the guards ran up to Pentheus and told him what happened. And Pentheus was like “Am I the only one that can do things the right way?” So he goes out and starts stalking Dionysus and all his followers on Facebook and Twitter, and Tumblr, and Pinterest, etc. He wants to know how Dionysus gets all his followers and friends. So he is looking at the likes and spying on them in a tree because he had gotten so mad at hearing the hysteric songs and shrill screams. He keeps looking and watching, trying to figure out how to defeat this “boy” when his mother sees him in the tree. She gets so mad at the fact that he is spying on all Dionysus’ followers and watching them do their rites and rituals that she takes out her iStone 11 and calls her friends to help her chase this boar that is destroying the land. So Pentheus runs like a mad man, but the women are so much faster and they catch him and cut off his hands. Pentheus starts to yell out to his mother in a desperate attempt for her to recognize him, but just like Lycurgus before her, she didn’t recognize her own son. He begged her, but she said the last words Pentheus ever heard. “This trophy of the hunt is mine!” So she cut off his head and put it on a thyrsus and scattered his body everywhere. Later at the party, she realized what she did and showed everyone. They were so afraid, but Dionysus had taken over their kingdom and everyone was happy. Well except for Hera who was angry that Dionysus could turn people to dolphins and make mothers and fathers kill their own children. Everywhere he went she tried to stop him by punishing everyone else, but she never directly punished Dionysus. Dionysus continued on his road trip to get more followers. He even went back to Naxos and married a girl named Ariadne. On one of the last of his travels, he went down into a Burning Ring of Fire, also known as Hades, or the underworld. In the underworld, he found his mother Semele, who he renamed Thyone. He brought her up to Mt. Olympus to live happily ever after.

The version of this myth was taken from Mythology and You: Classical Mythology and Its Relevance To Today’s World by Donna Rosenberg and Sorelle Baker

Notes

Some versions of the myth cite Semele as a princess of Thebes, some not only say she was a princess but the daughter of the founders of Thebes, Cadmus, Prince of Thrace brother to Europa, and Harmonia, who was the daughter of Ares and Aphrodite. A scholarly analysis of another version says Semele could have been a priestess.

In other versions of the myth, after the “second birth” of Dionysus, instead of giving Dionysus to Ino and her husband, Zeus had Hermes give him to the nymphs of Nysa where he stayed until manhood. Another version says Dionysus was given to Ino and her younger sister Argave who eventually betrayed Dionysus. Ino was punished, most likely by Zeus, by making her go mad and jumping into the sea with her own son where they were saved by the sea nymphs and stayed forever helping sailors.

In another version of this myth, when Dionysus made his way to Thrace, Lycurgus still opposed the worship Dionysus was leading, insulted, and set out to capture Dionysus. However, Dionysus retreated to the ocean only to return later and defeat Lycurgus. As punishment, Dionysus imprisoned him in a cave until he went mad and realized Dionysus was a god whence Zeus struck Lycurgus blind. Lycurgus died soon after.

Almost every version talkies about the pirates who captured Dionysus, but it varies on how. One version says that Dionysus hired the Pirates after retreating to the ocean from Lycurgus and coming up on the wrong side. Other versions say he was taken while conscience and cocky and others say he was fast asleep when captured. One aspect that remains consistent is the fact that Dionysus was going to be used to get money either via ransom or sold into slavery in Egypt or other lands and at least one person objected to this arguing he might be a god. All versions have Dionysus making the sailors go bonkers.

The “Asian Nymphs” are most likely from Persia or Asia Minor which is modern day Turkey. This is my own educated guess based on the idea that, according to the myth, he wandered in that region.

Some versions have Dionysus travel as far as India.

After leaving Nysa a version of the Myth has him travel to Crete to grant Midas’ wish to turn everything he touches to gold. Chronologically, I am uncertain as to when Dionysus granted Midas’ wish, but the myth of King Midas does have Dionysus grant the wish.

Naxos, Thrace, Thebes, and Phrygia are not close together and on a map this is clearly seen. Ultimately, this was the reason I choose to start my Greek Myths with this story. We can see the sphere of influence that the Hellenic world had on the the surrounding area and get a better idea on how large the Hellenic area is even if the majority of the myth only takes place in the Aegean.

Yellow-Thrace

Red- Thebes

Purple- Naxos

Blue- Phrygia (slightly more south east than placed but unable to be seen from the above map.)

Sources Referenced

D’aularies’ Book Of Greek Myths by Ingri and Edgar Parin D’aularie’s

Mythology And You: Classical Mythology and Its Relevance To Today’s World by Donna Rosenberg and Sorelle Baker

Mythology: Timeless Tales Of Gods and Heroes by Edith Hamilton

Tales Of The Greek Heroes by Roger Lancelyn Green

#Greek Myths #greek mythology #dionysus #greek myth retellings #Dionysus Myth

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crybbybilly · 5 years ago

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my harringrove masterlist

hello! for the first time in my life i’ve accumulated enough of my own works to justify making a post specifically to gather them together. some fics will be under my old url itscrybabyharrington (my dead account *sigh* also part of the reason i’m linking it all here!), i assure you i’m not fic stealing. anyway here ya go 💕

grace me with nothing

(6k 18+ a/b/o) my very first harringrove fic 😭

It started off as an itch beneath the surface of his skin, no matter how hard Steve pressed his nails could never dig through, could never scratch the discontent that simmered just beneath.

Tommy says it’s nothing, signs of an early rut approaching, meds wearing off after taking them for so long. Only Steve knows Tommy is full of shit and this doesn’t feel like a rut

he ain’t heavy he’s my brother

(16k 18+ twingrove au)

William Neil Hargrove is born red faced and screaming at 6:32 AM. Jason Lee Hargrove is born at 6:37 AM, quiet and unmoved by the echo of his brothers cries.

his welfare is my concern (no burden is he to bear)

(9k 18+ more twingrove au!)

They’re both hired on at Hawkins Community Pool.

It’s purely by accident, another case of mistaken identity to add to the numerous other times people have confused him for his brother. Jason realizes this the moment he steps up to the front desk and the hiring manager compliments him for getting his haircut, says he’s glad Jason decided to cut his ratty mullet.

holly & the ivy

(1k G even more twingrove au!)

“Jesus Christ what’s taking him so long.” Billy complains around the cigarette in his mouth, thick smoke clouds forming with each puff into winter air.

It’s freezing outside, both of them are bundled up and huddled against the side of Jason’s blue ford pickup truck. It’s an investment from spending the summer prior busting his ass off at the local pool and picking up odd jobs around the neighborhood, it’s nothing fancy but the bench seat fits the three of them perfectly, no one is forced to third wheel anymore.

five feet apart ‘cause we’re not gay

(3k 18+)

just two dudes being bros

scoops

(1k 18+)

billy fucks steve with an ice cream scoop, that’s it, that’s the tweet

it’s a moment when i roll up (got em sayin’ wow)

(1k 18+)

The music next door is pounding, rattles the connecting wall it’s so loud. It’s both a blessing and a curse, on the downside it’s 2am and Steve has class early tomorrow morning at 7am, on the brighter side of things the loud whine Steve lets out as Billy works another finger into him gets eaten by the heavy bass of a Post Malone song

golden hour

(G)

Billy Hargrove is a morning person.

ocean of flavor

(G)

Billy shouldn’t even be back here, if they get caught it would only add on to the multitude of reasons Steve should rightfully be fired.

don’t mind me (i’m just the teacher)

(Ch 2/? G(for now) WIP teacher au)

Steve curls further into his chair, drawing his cardigan close despite the lingering heat of early fall drifting in through the open window. With one hand he carefully balances his book on one knee, the other stuffing the last bite of a strawberry jelly sandwich into his mouth. There’s a glob of jelly stuck to his chin a precarious smear of red on his thumb, threatening to stain the crisp pages of the book in his hand.

run run (as fast as you can)

(2k 18+ straight up monster fucking: READ TAGS)

Something rough drags across his cheek, burns cold where it’s pressed against Steve’s skin.

chew your meat for you (pass it back and forth)

(3k 18+ straight up monster fucking: READ TAGS)

Steve thinks maybe he has PTSD.

He’s not clinically diagnosed, he can’t exactly go to a therapist and confide that he was kidnapped by evil Russians, that there’s blood on his hands, blood in his pool, that he saw a boy who was barely a man die screaming and bloody as he was ripped into by the Mindflayer until his body gave out.

It’s a lot to process on your own so Steve is pretty sure he has PTSD.

tumblr drabbles

• steve makes billy a mix tape

• billy and steve are surprised by steve’s parents coming home

• they’re in their 30s, billy buys a motorcycle

#it aint much but its what i got!#fanfic #my works #masterpost #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #billy x steve #fanfiction #billy and steve #twingrove

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aredhel85 · 5 years ago

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Home

Aziraphale hummed to himself as he closed the shop for the day. While walking upstairs to the flat over the shop, he couldn’t help but smile: Things had changed recently, even the staircase. There were potted plants hanging down from the ceiling on both sides. Ivy with beautiful deep green leaves patterned with creamy white. In the flat there were also so many more plants than before.

Before Crowley had moved in, Aziraphale had only kept the occasional flowers on the window stills, but Crowley had brought his luxurious plants which were strictly speaking too big for the flat – but although the demon would never admit it, he would never have left a single one in the care of a potentially unreliable human.

Not much else had changed. It was generally tidier as Crowley liked it tidy and clean, and of course he had brought a few personal things, but almost everything else had been left as it had been for years. At first Aziraphale had been a bit worried that Crowley wouldn’t like it here, after all, his own flat had been so different from Aziraphale’s, but despite the angel insisting that he could do whatever he felt like with the place to make himself more at home, Crowley hadn’t done a thing.

“I want you to feel at home”, Aziraphale had argued one day and Crowley had just looked at him as if he had had no idea what he was talking about.

“Angel, I do. I have for a long time, even before you asked me to move in.”

That had been enough to shut Aziraphale up for good what that was concerned.

And Crowley did seem truly comfortable here. They had been living together for a few weeks now, had gotten to know each other even better, had learned to make compromises and it all had been so very easy, so very natural.

It had started at the Ritz after the cancelled Apocalypse. After a few glasses of wine, one of them had taken the other’s hand – neither could recall who had finally dared to made the first step, maybe it had been both of them at the same time. Not that it was important anymore. Things had developed quickly after that and the only regret Aziraphale still held onto was that he hadn’t allowed it to happen sooner. He had known about Crowley’s feelings for a long time, but he had ignored this knowledge, had at times even tried to make himself believe that he was wrong, had been afraid to act upon his own feelings, and more than once he had certainly hurt the demon.

But that was all in the past now. They were finally together; they were finally happy.

As Aziraphale walked into the flat, the first thing he noticed was the intense heat. Today the temperature outside had risen by around 15° C, so it was now around 35°, but in the flat it felt like at least 45°. He had noticed that Crowley liked it warm, but this was a bit over the top.

He turned to the plants as the walked into the living room and despite the uncomfortable heat, he smiled a bit. They did make the room much nicer. “You poor things”, he said and none of the plants trembled as he spoke to them as they had at first. They had quickly learned that he meant no harm. Instead of scaring the plants, he miracled the temperature down to a comfortable 25°. “There, that’s better, isn’t it? So, where’s Crowley?”

Crowley had been out the whole morning, but had returned to take Aziraphale out to have Sushi for lunch. Afterwards he had hung around in the shop for a while, before he had gone upstairs. To get out, he would have had to go trough the shop again, so Aziraphale was sure he was home.

He walked around a little, searching, and stopped in awe when he looked through the glass door to check the balcony – which was the only major change Crowley had made moving in: He had wanted a balcony, so it had suddenly appeared as if it had always been there. That was something Aziraphale appreciated very much. It was so nice to have breakfast outside or enjoy a quiet evening together. There was a small table and two comfortable chairs and out there Crowley had planted some colourful flowers instead of the green plants he preferred himself. There was also a small lemon tree in a corner and Aziraphale loved it all, especially since he knew that it was a gift to him, although Crowley naturally never said so.

Right now, however, a huge snake was curled around the chair, its head resting on the back rest, its eyes closed while the hot sun was shining down on the black and red scales. Aziraphale smiled. He hadn’t even known Crowley still turned into a snake. He had only briefly seen him like this in Eden over 6,000 years ago, but there had been no time to appreciate the beauty of this form. He was deep black with a dark red belly and he knew the eyes, when they would finally open, would be the same he loved so much but saw so seldom, as even at home Crowley wore the sunglasses most of the time. It was truly a beautiful sight to behold.

When Aziraphale opened the door, the snake startled awake, eyes suddenly wide open and then the angel saw something that startled him and, in a way, shook him to the core: Shame.

Was Crowley ashamed of this form? Was this the reason he had never seen it again after Eden? Was it possibly also the reason he hardly ever took off the sunglasses, even when it was only the two of them? How could his beloved not know how much he loved his eyes, how utterly stunning they were to him?

Aziraphale’s heart melted, but still he forced a smile, for now pretending not to notice. “Hello, my dear. Enjoying the sun? Can I join you?”

There was no answer as the angel sat down on the second chair, but golden eyes watched him closely, almost suspiciously.

As if he expected him to realise what exactly he had allowed into his home and to throw him out.

That was ridiculous, of course.

“Can you talk in this form, darling?” The angel laughed, a little embarrassed. “I’m talking nonsense. Of course you can. You told Eve to eat the apple after all. Or was this just … I don’t know. An illusion? That’s also nonsense, because it doesn’t matter how you speak, with vocal cords or by means of an illusion, I’m …”

He was rambling now and when the snake dramatically rolled its eyes, he couldn’t help but smile fondly.

“Of courssse I can ssspeak, angel.”

“That’s good then, dear. I have to admit I was quite surprised to see you in this form. A pleasant surprise, I might add. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.” He was sincere and he hoped that it showed, because if Crowley was indeed ashamed of this form, ashamed to be completely himself here with him, in their home, that was something Aziraphale wanted to put an end to at once.

Crowley just stared at him, obviously that had been far from what he had expected. The snake didn’t move one bit, Aziraphale was pretty sure that he didn’t even breathe. The long body was still wrapped around the chair, only the head was now raised so that the demon could look at the angel.

There was nothing more to say for now, nothing of relevance, so Aziraphale remained still as well, but he continued looking in Crowley’s eyes, hardly blinking himself, hoping that his best friend, the one he loved, knew him well enough, trusted him enough, to see and accept the truth.

He had no idea how long it took, it seemed so very long, but finally the tongue poked out once more, and the elegant body began to move effortlessly, untangled itself from the chair and slid towards Aziraphale. The angel felt the movement of the muscles under the scales as the snake’s body slid over his lap and up on his body, around his shoulders, so very loosely and gently around his neck and at last the head came to a rest on his left shoulder. The eyes were open, but barely so, and the snake seemed to be completely relaxed. Relieved, maybe.

Smiling at the warm feeling that spread in his chest, Aziraphale lifted his hand and gently stroke the sleek scales, warm from the sun, and giggled softly as he felt the forked tongue tickling the skin on his neck.

“I love you, you beautiful idiot,” he said so very fondly that Crowley closed his eyes for a moment, seemingly relishing the affection Aziraphale showed him with every word, with every gentle touch of his fingers. “You know,” he said after a while, his hand resting just under Crawley’s head now, “you don’t have to hide from me. If you want to be in this form now and then, please don’t think I mind. Quite the opposite, my dear. And … if it’s because of me that you are wearing the sunglasses at home … Well, that’s not necessary either. I love your eyes. They’re stunningly beautiful. I should have told you that long ago but I thought you may prefer wearing the glasses and I didn’t want to push. I still don’t, mind you, but just in case … I want you to know that you don’t have to wear them because of me.”

Crowley remained quiet and Aziraphale waited patiently for him to take everything in. Then, the body in his arms changed, became less long but broader and just as they appeared, strong but gentle arms wrapped around his torso. The head still lay on his shoulder and Aziraphale’s hand now lay on Crowley’s neck while the demon remained sitting in his lap for a moment longer.

“Thank you, angel.”

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

Hi guys :) It took me long enough to write something new, but here it is. As always, I’d love to hear what you think!

I also want to write more “Good Omens” stories, so any prompts are welcome, preferably fluff or angst with a happy ending (sorry, but making them suffer without a happy ending in sight is a terrible crime I can’t bring myself to commit :P)l hurt/comfort, you get the idea.

I will also write the Ringsy stories based on your prompts from before my Tumblr break and I’m SO sorry it took me so long. Please give me a little more time, though, as I’m too obsessed with “Good Omens” right now to really be productive for another fandom ^^”

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #like tooth rotting fluff #they're happy together #crowley is still not sure that aziraphale can completely accept him as he is #aziraphale will not have it of course #my fic

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dracomalfoy-youlittleshit · 5 years ago

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So this has taken a lot of thinking and I finally want to share my novel with the world of Tumblr!

Thanks to @rockmarina I grew some balls to do this. I’m about 7 chapters in right now, but with everything that’s been going on in my life, I lost all writing motivation so I’m hoping to share my work and getting constructive feedback from people I’ll actually get back into it?

Well, Let’s see how it goes.

Here’s the prologue and Chapter One, If people like it I’ll share more I guess?

(I made the cover myself too!)

Prologue:

London, 1887.

The last of the carriages lined the dark, stoned streets. Small flickering candles shone through the narrow windows of terraced houses. The light patter of rain hitting the ground could be heard, and the taste of thunder lingered in the air. The lampposts were slowly being lit, emanating a low, dim light to the streets below allowing Shadows to creep from the cold, dark alleys concealing the secrets and terrors lurking within them.

Men, women and children returning from their poorly paid jobs and arriving home to almost no food. A young beggar girl was sitting alone on the street, her pale face caved in, her body thin with the hungry passing of days. Women were forced to sell their bodies just to get their next meal, never knowing the dangers they were in. Everyday, working class people suffered as the high class lived in luxury. Their tables filled with uneaten and wasted food, their wardrobes brimming with garments of the finest quality and their homes warm and comfortable. These dreadful people only cared for themselves, oblivious to the fight some people must endure daily…

Wiley Walker and Celia Roberts have never been like the rest of their kind. They would always spare a shilling or two, sometimes some bread and water, to the young beggar girl. The two were kind and had both aspired to make a difference in the world in their own ways. Celia was a strong woman with straight brown hair, soft eyes to match and piercing rose red lips, She believed that women were not objects or prizes to be claimed by man, that all women had a voice and needed to be heard. She wished deeply to become a respected businessman like her father, knowing that would take a lot of work, yet she was ready for it. Firstly, she wishes to start small and state her right to not marry, not wanting her life defined by any man, even if she could decide his identity.

Wiley was the opposite of Celia. He was a quiet and reserved boy with lengthy ginger hair tied back from his pale, freckled face. His emerald green eyes contrasted his image. They shone with confidence and even power when his demeanor suggested otherwise. He was quite reserved in the presence of his family, giving into every one of their demands to keep the peace and to divert all of their attention away from him.

Wiley and Celia, although polar opposites, were best friends and had been from the age of 4. They confided in eachother about all aspects of their life, even if doing so was dangerous… Wiley had a secret, a rather large secret that he could never tell his family or anybody close. Celia was aware of this, of his forbidden homosexuality. No longer punishable by death, Celia had thought much less of this than Wiley himself. He detested this part of himself, as many others would if they discovered it. He had managed to keep it concealed for years yet, the truth would soon come out as he is soon to be married…

Chapter One:

The Roberts’ manor was an old and run-down place. Vines and ivy covered the chipped grey bricks that were barely holding together. The dark winter sky gave the house an ominous look. The leafless trees seemed to curl around the building as if to scare off any passers-by. The dark bayed windows glowed with soft candlelight as dinner was being served inside. The interior of the home was much more cozy and comfortable than the exterior. The dining table was being filled with food as maids plumped the velvet seat cushions and the butler set down the silver.

Around the back of the house was a rather large garden, the brightly coloured flowers looked out of place against the deep green grass and cracked stone paving. Under a canopy, to escape the lightly falling rain, sat Celia and Wiley.

Celia’s soft brown hair blew in the wind as she tucked a stray piece behind her ear. “Stop worrying,” Wiley said with a small smile. His fingers found a small silver ring on his thumb and began turning it, “you will be fine.”

Celia didn’t reply. She continued to look out into the garden, her hazel eyes in a vacant stare. They both stayed silent, listening to the wind through the trees, wishing that they could stay like this forever. “You know what’s going to happen,” Celia breathed, as if she didn’t want to admit it to herself, even though she knew it was inevitable.

“Celia-” Before he could continue, Celia threw her head back and pulled out the loose bun at the top of her head, catching him off guard. She discarded the long red ribbon to the floor and ran her long fingers through her hair with a sigh. “Please, don’t say anything.” She sat forward, pushing her hair from her face. “I just want five moments peace before the chaos.”

Wiley bent down, plucking the ribbon from the floor and running it through his boney fingers. “Here, let me fix your hair.” he held out the ribbon in his hand and Celia smiled in response. “Fine,” she said before wiley had began to make his way over to her. “You always have been good at these things.” “Doing your hair?” “Making me feel better,” Celia muttered, earning a toothy grin from Wiley. “It will all be okay, you do know that, right?” “Wiles… They’re going to marry me off to some egotistical bigot with a big, fancy job. He’s going to expect me to have his children, I don’t want anybody’s children.” Celia’s face flushed with rage as she massaged her temples. Wiley brushed his fingers through Celia’s hair, tying it into a neat bun using her ribbon. A few stray strands poked out around her head that Wiley had tried to tuck in. “There.” He took a seat, crossing his legs and twirling his ring once again. “Do you remember Nicholas?”

Celia’s lip twitched before breaking into a large smile. “Gosh, that seems like so long ago,” she laughed. “We were both crazy about him, well, you were. I just wanted a friend.” “It was at least 5 years ago now. He went off to marry, didn’t he?” Celia leant back over again, turning a loose hair strand between her fingers, her previous smile fading. “That’s where everybody goes, Wiles. It’s where I’m going and it’s where you’ll be going when your family finds you a suitable woman.” “I reluctantly await the day a woman wants to marry me.” He fiddled with his fingers on his lap. “How about Douglas, remember him?” Wiley asked,Celia didn’t reply. She leant back in her chair, closing her eyes in thought. She knew it was a touchy topic for Wiley and didn’t want to encourage him to talk about it when she knew he didn’t want to. “Where did he go? After your father chased him out, I mean?” “I don’t know, that was the last I ever saw of him.” She replied quickly to move the topic on, sitting forward again and pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want to get married, Wiles. I know that’s what’s going to happen today. They’ve been acting strange for weeks, I know they’ve found somebody for me.” A tear escaped her eye and Wiley quickly wiped it away with a handkerchief. “You don’t know that for sure. I hate seeing you like this, Ci-Ci.” “I’m going to miss this. Just us.” “You don’t have to miss it, you know you’ll see me again. Whatever happens at this dinner.” Wiley stood, taking the smaller trembling girl in his arms with a deep breath. Wiley caught sight of a small, middle-aged woman waiting in the doorway. She had large bags beneath her eyes and her hair was a curled mess around her head. Her uniform was crumpled and covered in stained patches. She didn’t speak until Wiley looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Mr Wiley, Miss Celia. I apologize, I don’t mean to interrupt. Your parents require your presence in the dining room, your dinner is served.”

“Very well. Thank you, Sylvia,” Celia muttered. “Well, let’s go.”

They hastily entered the dining room and wordlessly took their seats at the polished table as the footmen served drinks. Both had tried to move unnoticed as their parents sat at the end of the table, yet they knew the silence wouldn’t last long. “What have you two been doing all day?” Ralph Walker, Wiley’s father, was the first to acknowledge them. He looked much older than he was, with deep sunken eyes and prominent cheekbones. He was a very pointed man with a small but rough beard on his pale chin. “We haven’t seen you both since we arrived.”

“Apologies, Father, we were in the gardens.” Wiley flushed slightly and started fiddling with the ring once again.

“I don’t know what you expected, Ralph. Those two have never been apart.” Oscar Roberts, Celia’s father, was a very short and plump man with a round face and a balding head. He had very nervous-looking, brown eyes and didn’t like to speak up in conversations. Ralph and Oscar had known eachother since they were children and, like Wiley and Celia, they were inseparable. They had even started a business, Roberts & Walker, sticking together even after marriage. Wiley silently wished for a bond with Celia as strong as their fathers’, yet he knew that couldn’t happen.

Just as the footmen came out of the kitchens once again with their food, Celia’s elder brother walked into the room with a girl on his arm.

“Ahh, here he is!” A large grin spread across Oscar’s face as Celia’s eyes narrowed and her lips pressed into a thin line. Wiley noticed the look on her face and gave a small smile of reassurance. The two new arrivals took their seats at the long table, opposite from Wiley and Celia. Celia’s brother, Benjamin, was a very tall man for his age. His neatly kept brown hair was pulled out of his eyes smoothly and his face was clean-shaven. His wife, Eliza, was a petite woman with lots of tight blonde curls neatly sitting atop her head, tied together with a long pink ribbon. Celia had instantly disliked her from their first meeting. Her dresses were much too frilly and she wore too much makeup.

“Some whiskey, Benjamin?” “Of course, Father.” Benjamin gave a smile and a footman appeared to fill his glass quickly. Celia looked down into her drink, twirling it around the glass.

“And wine for the lady?” the footman asked. “I’m afraid I must decline,” Eliza answered quietly with a large smile on her red lips, “just water, please.” Oscar looked knowingly over to his son and Ralph smiled towards the couple.

“I’m assuming you have some news for us, dear?” Mrs Roberts asked cheerfully. “Ahh, yes.” Benjamin stood, catching the attention of Wiley and Celia. “I am very pleased to announce that we are expecting a baby.”

The table uproared with cheers and congratulations from both families. Celia had taken no happiness in the news, she sat quietly, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers.

“So, what are you hoping for?” Mrs. Walker asked happily.

“A boy, of course!” Benjamin bawled and Eliza rolled her eyes.

“I want a girl.” She smiled, taking a sip of her drink.

“Well, any names?” Mrs Roberts asked with a smile, “What will I be calling my future grandchild?”

“Well Mother, we were thinking Oscar for a boy,” Benjamin glanced over at his father who grinned, his large cheeks slightly flushed. “And maybe Alexandra for a girl.”

“Oh, beautiful!” Mrs Walker chucked. Mrs Roberts laughed along with her happily.

“Let us raise a toast.” Ralph stood, tapping his class with a spoon. “To the happy couple!”

“To the happy couple!” They all cheered in unison - Wiley and Celia much less enthusiastic as everybody else.

After everybody had calmed down, the conversation turned to Celia. “You’ve been quiet all evening.” Oscar eyed her harshly. “Any words of congratulations for your brother?”

Celia muttered a hum of reply before turning her attention to her food. She had completely removed herself from the conversation and soon it turned to the topic of marriage. She only began to tune in when Wiley was brought into it.

“Any ladies in your sights, Wiley?” Benjamin asked with a grin. Wiley’s face paled and his hands dropped to his lap. “Uh, a few, I suppose,” he responded carefully, trying to hide the obvious shake in his voice. “Too many to choose from?” Ralph joined the conversation with stern eyes before they almost instantly filled with amusement. “That’s my boy!”

“Well choose soon Wiley, dear. We expect many grandchildren,” his mother said sweetly. Wiley only smiled in reply, the kind of smile that only Celia could see straight through. He moved his hands from his lap and hesitantly picked up his cutlery, yet only managing to push a small pile of vegetables on his plate. Celia repeated Wiley’s actions yet as she ate, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the dinner was going unnaturally well.

The conversation had fallen quite silent before Ralph broke it with a clink of a glass. He stood tall, pointing his chin in the air with his chest puffed out. “Now that we are all comfortable and have eaten, I, we,” He gestured to Oscar, “would like to reveal the real reason we held this dinner.” His eyes seemed to omit light as he spoke. “Our families have been joined since we were young. We have a bond much stronger than many, and so do our children.” Wiley gave a small smile to his father and Celia filled with dread. “We know you both are coming of age and that you have your own ideas of who to marry, but Oscar and I both agree that our families deserve a stronger bond. Our company would stay within the confines of us; and what better way to do this than to join our families through marriage?” Wiley and Celia’s faces drained. “Father—” “Celia,” Oscar cut her off with a grin, “Wiley is the man you shall marry.”

Without another word, Celia rushed out of the room, tears filling her eyes. Wiley wished he could follow her…

“What do you say, Wiley?” Ralph asked, his eyes lit as if staring directly into Wiley’s soul. He knew he couldn’t refuse, but he didn’t want to agree, so he just nodded, keeping his eyes locked on the floor. “May I—, can I—” He took a deep breath and stood from the table. “Allow me to talk to her,” he said, his voice shaking. “Sit, Wiley,” Ralph ordered. harshly Wiley instantly sat back down. “You can’t seriously be against this.”

Thump.

“You two make such a delightful couple.”

Thump.

“I was convinced you would like this idea.”

Thump.

“She likes you, I’m sure of it.”

Wiley’s heart was pounding in his chest and he felt like the walls were closing in. His mouth went dry and it suddenly felt difficult to breathe. His legs had lost all feeling, as though he was turning to mush. He wanted to run, to escape this situation, but he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t disappoint his father. But he also knew that he couldn’t marry Celia. He couldn’t be the one to ruin her life.

————————————————————————————————

So that’s it!

I’d like to thanks @piertotumlocomotherfucker for Alphaing a lot of this stuff for me even though we haven’t spoken a lot recently and I’ve been too much of a mess to write…

Gonna tag to signal boost too!

@justawynaut @secretlycrazyhummingbird @bellerixe @mushyperalta @do-your-thingg @gamerfreddie Ahh I don’t talk to anyone else so signal boost if you can guys, If not just ignore me.

Please let me know if you like it, I’d love to post the rest of what I have if you do! Likes and reblogs greatly appreciated!!

#Original Fiction #LGBT fiction #Fantasy fiction #Novel #Original Novel #Elliott writes and wants to cry #Miasma #Victorian Literature #It gets gayer I promise

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bloodline-rpg · 5 years ago

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Congratulations, Angela! We have accepted your application for your OC Willow Layton (FC: Zoey Deutch) Please create a blog for your character and send us the link via ask box as soon as you can. Welcome to Bloodline!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/Alias: Angela

Age: ageless

Preferred pronouns: she/her

Timezone: CST, however, I work overnights (6pm-6am) so I keep very strange hours.

Level of activity (don’t give your activity a number value, please describe how active you will be as best as possible): It’s been a minute since I’ve been in a Tumblr RP, however, I tend to get VERY invested. I’m typically online at least once a day and get very excited about replies. It can be difficult to write replies on days I work because it all depends on how busy we are, but on days I’m off I should definitely be able to get replies out.

CHARACTER DETAILS

Character’s Name: Willow Layton

Desired FC: Kat McNamara - unless she’s reserved still for future plots, in that case Zoey Deutch? or I’m open to suggestions :)

Character’s Age: 24

Character’s Species: Original witch

Character’s Sexuality: bi-sexual

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY

The Leytons had always been a family more concerned with peace than with power. Their magic was tied to the earth itself, they fed each other. Their coven was more of a commune, viewed by outsiders as a little bit strange but harmless. They’d take the food they grew to farmers’ markets and when people asked what made their produce thrive so well, Willow’s father would always wink, smile, and whisper magic. The locals found him quirky yet charming, but it was the truth. Compassion was paramount in Willow’s formative years. Her family would help the community and she was taught to respect hard work, no matter what form it came in. Holistic witches were welcomed in their coven, their magic didn’t seem that far off from the Leyton’s own. Perhaps they had to take a few more steps to achieve the same result, but the earth fed their magic just like hers.

The key was balance. They drew their power from the earth and as a result, it was their responsibility to take care of her. Sometimes that meant letting things die so new life could sprout. They’d cut trees to plant fields, but in return, they’d plant new trees elsewhere. Bees were kept for honey, but flowers were planted to sustain them. They were made to live in symbiotic harmony with the earth around them, a challenge that grew harder the more the world advanced.

Homeschooled by her mother, Willow spent most of her time with her many siblings, cousins, and the other witches in her coven. It was a peaceful, idyllic childhood, if somewhat sheltered. A tree was planted for each child born into the family and fed by their magic, Willow’s mother said that was how she knew she could always watch out for her children no matter how far they roamed away from her. As long as the tree thrived, so did they. As a teenager, the restrictions her family followed chaffed a bit. Willow left their home with her sister Holly and spent time traveling, seeing other places, other covens, other ways of life. Holly was happier in the city but Willow felt stifled by the sounds and overwhelmed by the crowds. She missed being barefoot in the field, helping care for the plants and the bees. Her wanderlust at an end, Willow left Holly in the city with the promise to write and call often and returned home.

When the attacks came, her parents told her that, yes, they needed to be careful but that there was no real cause for worry. Even when a letter came from another family of witches down in Georgia they stayed put. After all, a tree firmly planted and deeply rooted need not fear the storm.

And then Ash’s tree was struck by lightning and fell.

Willow was shocked. She didn’t understand why anyone would want to hurt her family, but the proof was there in her oldest brother’s tree. It didn’t make sense. They weren’t a threat, they’d never harmed anyone. In fact, more often than not they used their magic to help the farms in their area. Her family would spend hours blessing the land, encouraging crops to take root and flourish. Their magic could cause harm as well, any magic could, but they didn’t. Not at first. Holly’s fell next and Willow knew real fear for the first time in her life. Laurel went missing right from the farmer’s market in town. Though her tree still stood, within the week branches were falling. Her mother grew thin, pale and worried. Her father harder and angrier.

They couldn’t stay. The decision was made to split up for safety. The family that was so close-knit her entire life scattered like seeds thrown into the wind. Willow’s father took her brother Linden and sister Magnolia, hoping to connect with another coven with more powerful offensive magic on the way to Carden. Willow went with her mother, Ivy, aunt, and her aunt’s young son, headed straight for Carden. Only two days into the journey they were separated. Hunters found them at a small gas station, capturing Ivy and forcing her aunt to flee in their vehicle in order to protect her child. Willow was left behind, unnoticed. She made her way to Carden by hitchhiking and walking, hoping to reunite with the rest of her family there. Thus far, she’s the only one to arrive but she holds out hope that her family is not far behind her.

CHARACTER PERSONALITY

Willow believes strongly in finding harmony in oneself, with the earth, and with each other. Balance is important. She prefers to pause and think things through rather than acting rashly and can take a while to make decisions. A bit naive and sheltered, she tends to try and see the good in people for as long as she can. The war and the potential loss of her family has left her feeling adrift and vulnerable. She’s trying to do what she thinks her family would want, to promote togetherness and steadiness, to plant new roots. Whenever possible, Willow is barefoot and outside. She likes to feel the grass or dirt beneath her feet, she finds working in the garden and spending time literally talking to the plants and encouraging growth relaxing. Plants tend to be less judgemental than people.

PLOTS AND POLITICS

Connection: Ericka Holloway – The Holloway’s are related to the Leytons, though they are a somewhat distant branch on the family tree. They share a great Grandfather - his second marriage after his first wife died was to a human woman, the bloodline diluting through the generations to Ericka’s holistic coven. When the girls were young, their families had more interaction, the Holloways would come by their little community to exchange rituals and stories, but the way their families viewed the growing threats to magic were starkly different. The Leytons isolated themselves in their commune to live in peace, while Ericka’s side of the family retreated to the bayou for survival. Their magic may be related, but their worldviews have always been different.

Willow is hoping to see her family again, hoping that they’ll show up at the manor any day now, but also fearing they never will. She’s vaguely familiar with wolves, one of her uncles was bonded, but she’s never been around this many before. She’s not afraid, having no negative interactions with wolves, but is curious.

One of the few things she managed to bring with her are seeds - their family intended to bring an offering to the Blacks for opening their home, but transporting living plants would be complicated even for them. Willow’s duffle bag has one pocket entirely dedicated to seeds from their farm, mostly plants useful in spellwork or food, but if allowed she’d love to expand the garden and contribute to the benefit of the household

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boogiewrites · 5 years ago

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His Own Piece of Heaven By The Sea

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Ruth (OFC)

Summary: Ruth, a nurse at Margate, happens to be assigned to a man brought in off the beach with a gunshot wound to the head. With her kind nature and good heart he quickly sees she is exactly as she appears and becomes fond of her. Asking her to be his personal nurse in his seaside mansion in Margate, an unlikely friendship grows. With time, tenderness and patience they grow to become more. (Done to celebrate PB S5 being released in the US. I tagged those that are tagged in my other Alfie fics as well.)

Warnings/Tags: Sexual Content. Slow Burn. Nurse caring for injured Alfie after After season 4. Possible S5 Spoilers. Started as an AU so... Domestic fluff. Fluffy Smut.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

Luckily for Alfie Solomons, the Margate hospital was only a few minutes from where he was shot and left for dead. Even if it had been carried out at his own insistence, after waking up sputtering to half a face and a high tide, it was now more trouble than it was worth, it seemed.

He lay in a sanitized room. The window was open, he could hear the seagulls and the breeze outside. He found it curious only half of the room appeared before him, but as a quick regretful touch of his face informed him, he no longer could see out of his left eye. He’d been stitched up and medicated, lots of thoughts swirling about his foggy brain. Some perfectly logical, some not. He stayed in that thin veil for some time at first while he healed. After the fact, he couldn’t recall much, only her. As she was the one constant through it all.

“He got shot in the face, left for dead and LIVED!” he hears whispers from the doorway. He was still a mess, scabs and swelling and a face that was half pieced together. He couldn’t blame anyone for looking but he wished in his lucid moments that they’d leave him the fuck alone.

“Go now. Mind your business. The man needs peace and quiet!” she hissed and the sound of tiny hands slapping against bodies could be heard. He smiles with the side of his mouth it doesn’t hurt to and grunts. “I’m sorry Mr. Solomons. Some people have no manners.” she speaks in a soft voice. This is his first memory of her.

----

He groaned in pain. Whoever was touching him, and whatever they were doing wasn’t right. They had him on enough drugs to keep him sedated but the loud roar of pain that rose from his tired chest made the girl trying to dress his wounds squeak in fear.

“He keeps fighting me! He’s under enough sedation to take down a horse!”

“Well, what are you doing to the poor man?”

“I’m trying to clean his wounds!”

“With this?”

“Yes!”

“You bloody idiot.” she sighs and moves over to Alfie’s side. “I’m sorry, forgive her for she knows not what he does.” she rolls her eyes and gingerly takes off his bandages. She barks orders, and in her familier voice, it felt good to hear. He focuses one eye on her as he sees her lips pursed and blowing to soothe his irritated skin. A kind hand rubbing and patting his chest to keep him still. “I know it hurts, I’m terribly sorry.” she tells and see’s him focusing on er. “Hurt enough to pull you awake, eh? Poor man.” she coos and pushes back his hair. “This will help.”

At first, he winces, the cold a surprise, but soon it numbs and dilutes the medication placed incorrectly. “Mmph.” he snorts in response.

“My, my what a chatterbox today.” she smiles and continues running ice over his face, blowing and cooing all the while. She takes her time, as she always has with him and cools his skin, then applies the correct medication to numb then another to fight infection. With a new dressing, she fluffs his pillow and gives his blanket a good shake before tucking him back in. ”Here you go, love.” she speaks, one hand behind his head, the other placing a bottle of liquid to his lips that he knows means another long rest is coming. “There we are. Soon you won’t need my help with that. I’ll check on you later Alfie. Not that you’ll know.” she chuckles. “But I’ll be there.” she pats his hand and gives him a smile as his eyes roll back and flutter shut.

----------

The longer he stayed and recovered, the closer they became. He quickly became her favorite patient and she, his favorite nurse.

“Ruth!”

“Yes, Alfie?” she asks carrying a tray on food into the room.

“The seagulls are being mighty peculiar today.” he answers with a shake of his head.

“What are they up to today?” she amuses him as she takes away his binoculars and sets them on the bedside table.

“Loud today. Storm coming in perhaps. The fuckers have been fightin’ like mad. They know something we don’t.”

“I wouldn’t doubt that in the least.” she smiles and places a napkin into his shirt collar, the tray in his lap. “Always up to something those birds.”

“You understand, Ruth. That’s why I like you.” he announces approvingly. He was rather entertaining when medicated. Although she hadn’t seen much of him sober yet.

“I managed to snag you another bowl of pudding and a sweet roll.” she distracts him.

“Always spoilin’ me Ruth.” he gives her a wag of his finger. “Have I ever told you about how I had a bakery? We made these rolls ourselves.”

“No, you haven’t. Tell me more.” she sits next to him, her shift over but having nowhere to go she cared about. She sits with a book in her lap and listens to the stories he tells over and over. Ones she could recite from memory if needed. But he sounded happy, was so lively when he told her stories she couldn’t bring herself to tell him no. She rather enjoyed seeing him smile.

-----------

Coming off the medicine, Ruth missed those stories and smiles. Alfie was coming down from his highs, pain, and withdrawal both plaguing him. Learning to function with one eye, the dizziness that came from the force trauma to his head and the depth perception problems. She understood his short temper, but he was still far nicer to her than any other person that helped him. After a particularly nasty day, him falling and being embarrassed, angry about being sick from the medicine and his head throbbing almost visibly, he surprised her.

“He’s asking for you again.”

“Right.” she tidies up and goes to the sounds of a groaning man. She could walk to the path in her sleep now. So many rounds and shifts, days and nights spent there with him. “You called for me?” she responds with the same polite tone.

“I did, yeah.” he nods then turn to look at her. “I’ll be out of here soon.”

“That’s what I’ve been told. I know you feel poorly but you are doing better,” she adds supportively. “It’s good that you’ll be leaving. Means you’re on the last stretch of recovery.”

“Do you want me to go, Ruth?”

The question catches her off guard. “I want you to get better.” she states plainly.

“Now I do want the fuck out of here, yeah? But I don’t wanna GO per se.”

“I’m afraid I'm not following.”

“I want to hire you. To come live with me. Be my personal nurse. You’re the only one worth a damn. The only one I trust. The only one that doesn’t look at me like…” he stops himself and sighs. “Would you be interested?”

“You flatter me as always Alfie,” she replies with a smile and her hand to her chest. “But I work here, I have rent I can’t just-”

“I’ll pay ya double what you make now. No rent, I’ve got plenty of rooms. You can help me, yeah? I don’t want to deal with this shit alone. I’ll only admit that to you. This fuckin’... the sight and vertigo and all 'is… shit that goes along with getting shot in the fuckin’ face. I can do it alone, but I don’t wanna, love. I’m finished with makin’ things harder on myself. And you help me, right? You have since I got here.”

“I have. I was the first assigned to you.”

“And the only one that’s stayed.” he lets out a little chuckle that turns into a cough.

“Yes.” she nods and smiles. “I’ve never done in home care.”

“You’re a good nurse. The best I’ve seen here. And you don’t annoy the shit out of me. You’re perfect for it.”

She shrugs, eyes not meeting his out of uncertainty.

“Ya gonna make me beg, love? Or is it more money you’d like?”

“Neither.” she laughs and gently pats his hand. “I accept. You’ve made me an offer I can’t refuse.”

“That’s what I was known for.” he grins.

“I can see why.”

“You go tell that boss of yours that don’t appreciate you enough to fuck off now. You’re gonna come with me.”

“I’ll tell them in my own way if you don’t mind.” she giggles.

“If you insist.”

---------

Ruth, in her simple cotton dress, walks closely behind Alfie as he slowly makes his way with his cane into his Margate home. She hadn’t known what to expect, but a mansion hadn’t been it. Aged and covered in ivy, the walls covered with specimens and art and each piece more interesting than the last, she had to focus on him to not become distracted. She’s careful to follow him on his side he can see on, ready to help him stay steady should he need her. He tromps his way into a cozy and lived-in room, plush chairs and a set of doors that overlooked the ocean. She gingerly helps him sit in the largest chair and doesn’t judge his pained sounds as he does so.

“Your place is lovely, Mr. Solomons.” she remarks, taking his hat and coat from him.

“Who the fuck is Mr. Solomons? Don’t call me ‘at. Call me Alfie.”

“My apologies. Since I was working I wanted to be formal.”

“No need for such. We’re old friends already, Ruth.” he grunts and resituates himself.

“Yes, sir.”

“None of that either.” he shakes his finger at her and she nods obediently.

“Yes...mate?” she suggests with a face that shows her rapid reaching for an alternative and it makes his laugh turn into a cough.

“We’ll work on it.” he chuckles.

“Where should I put your things?”

“There’s a closet by the door, hang ‘em there.” he nods in the direction of which he speaks.

With a quick bow, she leaves and returns promptly. “What would you like of me, Alfie? Some tea perhaps? I can get used to the kitchen.” she offers with hands clasped in front of her. So reserved, he thought to himself.

“Nah, you can go ahead and fetch ya things. Your room is the last on the left hallway, love. I’ll just be here.”

“Alfie, with all due respect let me at least make you comfortable before I go. That is my job afterall.”

“I’ll be fine, you don’t live that faraway. I did make it this far in life without you ya know.” he jokes.

“May I speak honestly?”

“It is what I prefer, yeah.” he turns his head and narrows his eyes at her.

“I do not want you falling or getting hurt while I'm here. I will feel personally responsible as it is my job to care for you and I take my job very seriously. You are... a bit stubborn and I don’t want your tenacity to give you a set back you will later regret and I will be left to mend something that could have been avoided.”

“Well that is...honest.” he shrugs.

“So as per my expertise, I would like to make you tea, perhaps a toastie or something to keep your energy up before tea. I’ll give you something to take the edge off, you’ve done a lot of traveling today and don’t need to exert yourself. I’ll settle you down with a book and some binoculars to watch the sea like you enjoy, eh?”

“A toastie?” he lets out a deep laugh that moves his stomach. “Haven’t had one of those since I was a lad. Sure. Tea does sound lovely after that char they serve in the hospital. Trust you can find the leaves on ya own?”

“Certainly so.” she nods with that same polite smile. “Here’s your binoculars...and a pillow in case you require it.” She moves about the space as if she knows it already. He notices what an observant person she must be. “Be back in just a moment, sir-Alfie.”

“Now SIR Alfie does have a good ring to it.” he teases and laughs, reaching for the binoculars as she opens the doors before leaving to familiarize herself.

“Don’t poke fun of me Alfie. I’m adjusting to this informality.” he hears the laughter in her voice covering the offense taken.

“I’d never, love.” he says with dramatic offense taken. “What sort of man do you think I am?”

“The kind that gets his tea poisoned for being an arse.” she snaps back with a playful smile he hadn’t seen before.

“HA!” he throws his head back, forgetting for a moment in the exchange that he was injured before cursing and mumbling, “Bloody room needs to be still.”

“And THAT is why you need me, Alfie. Behave yourself.” she sighs with a shake of her head as his brow furrowed hard in concentration.

“Yeah, yeah. Make me feel worse about it why don’t ya?”

He hears the sounds of another person in the house. Something he wasn’t entirely accustomed to. The tinks and shuffles of water and china go unnoticed as he focuses on steadying his head.

“Has the room stopped spinning for you to enjoy this?” she asks, standing with a steaming cup of tea and a saucer in her hands.

“Ya quiet as a mouse there.” he gruffs with one eye opening and giving her a once over.

“Not my intention,” she says with her trademark polite delivery. “Here you go. Still hot.”

“Mmph.” a grunt as he sits up straight and sees the swirls escaping the liquid. She stands patient and still as he puckers his lips and blows. He gives her a moment of eye contact before taking a noisy sip. He waits a minute, a slow head nod then a noisy smack of his lips. “Made the right choice hirin’ you dinnit I?” he states with a turn of his good eye her way. “That’s a good brew there, love.”

“Thank you. I pride myself on it. Been making tea since I could pour it myself.”

“You can tell. Good, that.” he adds with another slow sip. “What else are ya good at Ruth?” his tone sounded more like a challenge than a casual question.

“I suppose you’ll find out, won't you?” she answers back quickly and curtly. A small almost bend his way before moving back to the kitchen to impress him with a snack.

------------- He awakes with a twitching nose and the pain that the motion sends immediately through his head. The pain is ugly but the smell that caused it is lovely. The sun was already moving up into the sky and he groans and manages to sit up in his bed without too much nauseated feeling. He’d overslept which normally would be very much unlike him but his sleep schedule since being shot was erratic at best.

“Oh, you’re up already!” he hears the familiar voice chirp. “I’ve brought you breakfast.” she proudly declares, carrying a tray and sitting it on a table away from the bed. “How are we this afternoon?”

“What bloody time is it?” he grumbles as she approaches and checks his forehead with the back of her hand.

“Half past eleven.”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.”

“The medicine makes you sleep, Alfie. Nothing out of the ordinary. I’d rather you be resting than unable to.” her voice remains instructive but polite. “Here’s your tray.” she places the shelf to eat off of over his lap and begins to arrange the food. “We have porridge and honey. Tea with the same. Good healing properties in it, yeah?” she keeps her polite smile and watches him flinch as he moves his face. “Doesn’t require chewing. And I’d like you to start having food in you before you take your pain medication from now on. So we’ll start here and see how this goes.”

“Ya gonna do the dressin'?” he asks with a tired eye exposed.

“After your medicine has had time to dull the pain. No use in making you suffer more than you already have to.”

He watches her move about with light fingers and a pleasant face. “Why ya wearin’ that?” he asks with now focused eyes. He was referring to the new uniform she was wearing.

“My old uniform was the property of the hospital. I thought since I was still working it would be proper to get myself one.”

"Ya didn’t have to.” he offers.

“It’s no problem.” she lied. She’d had to buy the uniform second hand because she couldn’t afford a new one of her own. Of course with the new pay and lack of rent she’d be able to afford one soon. “The black will help hide any stains and the apron is always useful.” she offers and sits on the edge of the bed. “Now stop fussing and eat.” she directs with a gentle pat to his foot as she holds the paper in her hands.

“What’s that?” he motions with a spoon full of porridge.

“This morning’s paper. I thought you might like to read it.”

“If I wanted a fuckin’ headache, yeah.”

“That’s why I’m still here.” he retorts. “I can read it for you while you eat. Save your eyes.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But would you like me to?”

“Mmmph.” he nods and begins to nibble away at the flavorful lumps in the bowl.

He was glad she could read so well, he’d had maids that couldn’t before but she was a nurse putting on the hat of a maid as well. He had to remind himself that. He uses his one good eye to look her over while she’s distracted. It was still in his nature to use anything available to his advantage. He’d already been able to surmise that she grew up poor, if she wasn’t still, from the food she served. This new uniform, clearly worn was another sign of this theory. It was a touch too short, clearly tailored for a shorter and smaller woman. The sleeves rolled up and the petticoat fluffing out at the edges that hit at her knees, the undone top button that wouldn’t clasp were all signs of support for his growing back story about her he was concocting in his head.

After he’d eaten his fill, an amount that was approved of by her and a good sign of returning health, she’d proclaimed, he takes his various tonics and medications that begin to make the edges of his vision a bit blurry. He pays attention to her now, his hands clasped in front of him, staring at her as she reads to him. “Would you like me to skip the arrests?” she asks.

“No, it’s a favorite part.” he gives her a smile.

“Very well…” she begins, posture straight and head moving animatedly as she read off the charges.

It was the drugs that made him feel so comfortable with her. But it didn’t stop it from feeling good nonetheless, no matter the official cause. “You have a lovely speaking voice, yeah?”

She blinks with surprise and turns her head his way.

“Bet children love it when you read to them, eh?”

“They usually fall asleep.” she replies with eyes that moved around in thought.

“You ever read poetry? Shakespeare and the like?”

“I am familiar with the works. Never thought it much use to read it to children in the hospital.”

“Mmmph.” he nods. “Perhaps one afternoon we’ll do that. I think your voice would lend a certain lyrical lilt to it.”

“Thank you.” she says politely as she closes the paper. “I do believe it’s time to change that dressing and clean you up. Officially start the day, yeah? The seagulls are probably lonesome without you looking at them.” she jokes.

“I’m a very busy man.” he nods in agreement. “Someones gotta keep an eye out on those bloody birds. Can’t trust em.” he hears her soft chuckle and keeps his hardened face in place, as is his way. Especially when his reactions tended to make her laugh.

-------

“Alfie?” He hears Ruth enter the room, announcing herself as his blind side was facing the doorway.

“Ello. Look at this ship that’s come in today. Never seen one so big.” He motions with his hand to approach him as he holds one eye of the binoculars up to his face. “Lots of cargo ships today.” He muses while Ruth peers out to the sea to entertain him. She couldn’t care less about ships. “Must be for the turning of the season coming. Needin' supplies and that.”

“Yes, I felt the chill incoming this morning.” She agrees with a nod and hands the spectacles back. “I have a question… or rather a concern I need to discuss with you.”

“Alright, go on.” He pats the seat next to him and she obediently sits.

“Tomorrow is Friday.”

“Mmm that it is.” He nods.

“That means Shabbat.” She states obviously as he seemed to not be following.

“Can ya make Challah?” He inquires.

“Yes, no problem at all. But there is the issue of me working.”

“Ah. I see. Yes.”

“I had been considering ways to still observe but not be away.”

“I could be fine for a day on me own, love. Ya don’t have to worry like ya do.”

She didn’t want to argue even though she disagreed.

“You can go off and do whatever it is you like.” After a pause and silence on her end, he turns to look at her. “What?”

She lets out a small frustrated noise. “I don’t really… have anywhere else to go.” She gives a small shrug. “I’d rather stay here.”

“Oh.” He blurts out, surprised at the answer. “Well, that’s also fine, innit?”

“I thought perhaps I skip cleaning on Shabbat. I can not wear the uniform you know? We can work together for tea and I can lounge a bit instead of keeping busy.”

“You know… some company would be nice.” He wouldn’t dig into her lack of social life today. The poor thing seemed embarassed. “I can help with the bread or at least supervise. Be useful somehow.”

“That would be wonderful. We could listen to one of the radio programs perhaps? Or I could read something besides the paper to you as you suggested?”

“Full of good ideas you are Ruth, dear. We can be a couple of mates bein' lazy. Have our wine and leisure as God requests.” He speaks with his hands, an animated delivery that told her he was adjusting well to the less intense medication.

“That sounds lovely. I’d like that very much.”

“Then that is precisely what we shall do, love.” He declares with a pointed finger.

And it was.

A lovely indulgent afternoon to close out their first week together. Wine and conversation. His snoozing through the afternoon as she prepared dinner. He told her stories and she read poetry about the sea to him. She continued to care for him but in her simple cotton dress this time. Her usual conservative hairstyle replaced with a loose fall of hair around her shoulders. A total opposite to the severe bun she had sported. He sees Ruth for the first time and not Nurse Ruth. She shares stories of patients and they laugh. She tells him of past Shabbats with her mum, and he shares some of his own. A mutual bonding on the loss of their mothers. They talk well into the night and only end the revelry when his medication renders him useless. It would be a special time for both of them to share and an instigator for their budding romance.

——————————

“The rest of you needs seeing to Alfie.” She insists. Knowing of his skin condition and back pain. “If you just let me assist you I can get it all in one go and it would be so much easier on me.” She stands with a hand on her hip as he stands with an undone shirt in the doorway of his bathroom.

“It’s a man’s business all his own in the bath. I don’t need your help to wash. Just on the ol face. I don’t want you all...exposed to this.” He motions to his body.

“You act like I’ve never seen a naked man before Alfie. I’m a NURSE. This is what I DO.” She maintains with open hands that chop down to the beat of her words.

“Ya tryin to get at me bits is what ya doin!” He replies dramatically and she sighs and puts her hand to her face.

“Alfie I swear-“

“Ehh. Only teasin bout that don’t get ya knickers in a bunch.” He groans and moves slowly toward the tub.

“You can use one of the wash cloths to cover up if it makes you feel better. But you never came off as shy before.”

“I’ll take ya up on that.” He makes his usual sounds of discomfort as he takes off his shirt. “Now turn and I’ll get in. Having an audience makes me bashful.” He jokes as she rolls her eyes and lets out a chuckle.

“I can’t have you getting dizzy and cracking your head open. I won’t apologize for watching out for you.”

“So you keep saying.” his voice shows his mild annoyance with her caring nature. But he was healing well he had to admit. She hears his clothes hitting the floor and water sloshing about. “Hotter than hell but fuck me that feels good on the ol joints” he grunts. “Come on in then ya stubborn bird.” He sighs out as she’s at the ready with her case of medicines for him.

“This makes this a lot easier on me. I appreciate your cooperation, truly.” She states with no sarcasm as she lines the bottles up and rolls up her sleeves.

“Only reason I’m agreeing to it.” He answers with lips planted together and readying for the bandage to be removed for what could be the last time.

“You have healed up so nicely.” She remarks softly as she studies the now stitchless face, only scabs left to fall off. Some already have done so with dark lines now showing the marks left from the open wound.

“Tell that to me fuckin eye.” He responds defensively.

She suppressed a sigh of frustration. He truly had come so far. He could’ve died of infection or any number of things by this point. “The sight left but the healing it’s done is remarkable all the same. The pigments gone but being able to keep at the eye at all is a teatmabe to your bodies ability to heal.” She uses a cloth to wipe gently at his face.

“You’ll say it’s a miracle I’m here at all next.” He complains.

“I won’t.” She snaps back. “Even though it is.”

He hums sarcastically.

“I feel comfortable not covering it anymore. Get some air and sun on it. Do you good.”

“Can’t wait to unleash this on the world.”

“You’ll be even more intimidating than you already are. With your personality, I’d think you’d find that more useful than a negative.”

“Got a point there.”

“Besides, the integrity of your face is still intact. All symmetrical and that. Your beard is almost grown back in on this side. Just scar and an eye that could pass for an opal. Adds character. And you are a character for certain.” She chuckles. “You aren’t disfigured. In my humble opinion still pleasant to look at. Most that get shot in the face can’t say they still kept their looks.”

“Looks?” He turns with a brow raised. “Are you complimentin' me?”

Her eyes blink fast and she looks away. In her attempts to cheer him up perhaps she’d been TOO honest. “I am.” She nods and begins rubbing oil between her hands. “Now give us this mop of hair.” She changes the subject and leans over to get her fingers into his scalp.

He’s rendered useless. As her nails rake away and wake up his scalp with a tingle. “Fuck that is good, innit?”

She smiles contently as his eyes roll back and he shuts them. “Get your blood flow going and heal up any spots. Very good for you” She says softly as he grunts. She washes his hair, an intimate thing she makes comfortable, the medicine she’d poured onto his face and hair washing into the bath water. “You can give yourself a wash while I put these away and then I’ll cover the spots on your trunk.”

“Trunk? The fuck you on about?”

She chuckles again and shakes her head. “That’s nurse for torso.” She explains.

“I was wondering if you’d sewed me up wrong for a minute there.” His response draws another laugh as she turns her back and closes bottles and wipes them down. “‘Spose you could’ve been takin bout my nethers.”

This brings a further laugh from her. “Nethers.” She chuckles. “That Alfie for genitals?”

“Since you’re a lady I wasn’t gonna say cock.”

She lets out a snorting laugh, shoulders shaking with it as he gives her a smile she doesn’t see. “But alas, here we are.” A happy sort of tone that shows her amusement and lack of offense pleases him in many ways. “Since when do you watch your language?” She sass’s.

“Since I got me arse and bollocks out I suppose.” She covers her face for another round of laughter and he joins in.

“You’re a character, Alfie Solomons. Never met a man like you before.”

“I’ll take what back handed compliments I can love.” He genuinely agrees.

“Not back handed. You are interesting. Unique. That’s what character means.”

“Quit bein’ so sweet and get over here, you’ll make it hard for me to be a grouchy bastard.” He grunts and stands, hand still holding the wash cloth over himself as she turns to get an eye full of dripping wet man in the tub. She was going to ask him to rise up a bit to get to the spots but… this worked too. See gulps and he catches it, a flush of confidence he couldn't help comes over him.

She works in silence, focusing with a furrowed brow she rarely had. She was fighting to not look anywhere she didn’t have to. Her fingers worked into his scaly spots, soaking up the good mixture of healing ointments and losing their redness already. He was dotteda long his shoulders and back, some on his chest and she was thankful there weren't any on his legs to be seen. She remained professional in action but her thoughts were moving in a wholly different direction.

“There you are. Finished.” she declares with a nod, not meeting his eyes and speaking curtly. She looks him over, not being very skilled at being subtle or sneaky as he stands and stares at her. A bit of flex of power as he saw her jaw tighten and lashes flutter.

“You gonna oogle me or hand me towel, pet?” he coos out and she is visible bothered. A quick jump and rush to grab what he asked.

“I wasn’t- I didn’t-”

“Hush, love I'm only teasin’.” he grins, draping the towel around his hips. “But I do believe I can handle the rest meself.” a smirk that gave away his delight at getting flustered is plain on his face but she dare not meet it.

“Course, course.” she mutters out and quickly turns and hurriedly gathers her things.

She goes to her room and finishes putting the bottles into her bag for later. She rubs the back of her neck and looks around at nothing in particular as her eyes remain nonblinking and wide. She was a professional, what was wrong with her? She shakes her head and the image of his broad body remains. Wide shoulders and strong, stocky legs that were made for… well, things she hadn’t experienced in a long while. The time without the intimacy of a man being felt hot in her face and elsewhere. She had heard him referred to as Captain, he was a military man, which would explain the strength there. She looks at herself, suddenly self-conscious with hands to her soft stomach and hips. She supposes it’s a good sign he looked so… healthy. It was in part to her good care and support and she took pride in that. But another feeling that was called sin was bubbling up beneath the surface for his recovery was becoming more and more apparent. ----------------

Time passes and the true nature of themselves reveals itself. Alfie being stubborn and grumpy, although she couldn’t entirely blame him. And her proving hard working and insistent. The banter between them became easy, the routines in place and their roles clear. It was a relationship that both of them felt they didn’t have to work too hard at. Over the weeks they’d grown comfortable with one another, and it was starting to show.

It was one of the last warm days of fall, the cool air getting chillier by the degree every night and feeling it into every morning. Alfie was very aware of winters coming in his bones. An ache in his joints he dreaded every year with the changing of the seasons. But at least he now had someone with soft hands and warm heart to rub oil into the hurting bits. He wasn’t sure what helped more at this point, the oil and massage or the woman who was doing it.

They walked side by side, Ruth dutifully holding his arm out of habit by this point. But he didn’t mind it all that much. She had a little blue dress, one of the many shades of the sea they walked alongside. Both barefoot and Alfie with his pants rolled up his calves, his typical white shirt and waist-coat loose on the breezy and pleasantly cool day. When the sun would peek through the clouds a warmth would spread across their skin, sparkles on the water shone as they walked, their footprints disappearing behind them in the tide.

“Come in a little further, get the cold water lapping about your legs! Get the blood going!” she requests with a hand laced into his, giving it a timid tug in her direction.

“It’s bloody cold, love.”

“It’s not THAT bad Alfie. It wakes up the senses. Keeps you on your feet!” she gleefully announces as she lets his hand go and lets her dress get wet in the waves.

“Last time that water touched me I woke up with a hole in me fuckin face so forgive me for not being as enthusiastic as you.”

“You love the sea Alfie.” she scolds. “You sit up there on that balcony all day every day and watch it and everything in it. You hold no ill will towards it. Don’t make excuses. You can always just say no politely and I’ll listen.” she lectures as she splashes about, the tips of her hair getting damp and a sheen across her face from the splash the sea was waving against her. She looked happy. An innocent at play he thought.

“You’re welcome to it, love.” he contributes with a nod, watching her intently as the waves lapped around his calves.

“Fine, have it your way.” she submits as a wave almost knocks her over, a laugh arising from her shaking chest. “The doctors say this is good for the heart.” she informs without an inkling as to the soft look on his face, eye barely squinting in the dim sunlight.

“Yeah. I’d agree it’s that, innit?” he replies quietly, watching this lovely little siren spin and splash about. He wondered if it was old age making him soft, or if it was, in fact, just her. Perhaps a bit of both. How was a hardened man like him supposed to withstand a persistent assault at his heart by a woman so wholesome? She saw the world so differently, then he did. He couldn’t help but find her mind intriguing. He was already looking forward to wine and conversation with her that evening. Wine was the only way he’d found to open her up a bit, and each week he chipped away at her professionalism. One day he hoped to find something to give him some indication as to whether her kind and caring nature was just that, or if it was a sign of something more when it came to him.

——-

“Alfie, are you awake? I could use some assistance!” Ruth calls out, arms full of packages from the market. As she made her way through the house and into the kitchen.

“Do you think all I bloody do is sleep?”

“I can only work with what my own observations tell me.” she smarts back and he smiles.

“Don’t like it when ya get smart on me like that.”

“Then don’t ask silly questions, dear.” she ties back her hair as she moves past him to go fetch another set of bags from the car.

-----

They work well together in the kitchen. Both their upbringings working in tandem to create meals that both liked. He was a much better cook than she’d expected. She wasn’t used to men taking such interest in it, especially the baking. But she’d never had a better Challah than one that was kneaded by him.

“Did ya get the kosher eggs, love?”

“Of course I did.” she replies placing them next to him as he did a check of the ingredients needed.

“And the candles?”

“They’re crucial, of course, I remembered them you worrywart. I bought the fruit yesterday and the fall compote is in the icebox. The chicken is marinating, I have your favorite vegetables as requested and the broth is beginning to simmer. So onto the matzo balls.” she claps her hands together and readjusts her sleeves up her arm.

“You got the good schmaltz for it?”

“Yes, Alfie. Only the best for such a meal.”

“Good girl.” he praises as he moves about the kitchen with her, a slight hug from the side and a kiss to the head that made her blush at the approval. “These meals are so much easier with you here Ruth. Barely gotta do a thing.”

“Just keep making the best bread I’ve ever eaten and I’ll be more than happy to oblige you with the rest of the meal.” she says with a broad and happy smile.

“You flatter me.” he speaks softly as he dumps out the dough. He places his rings into a small dish she’d brought into the kitchen for that singular purpose. The kneading brought him back to his early days in the kitchen with his mum, the days he instructed the bakers at the shop. All happy memories that were being cast in shadow by the new ones he was forming with Ruth. But all she really could pay attention to the was the strength and endurance of his experienced hands plying the flesh-like dough. She put on records and lit candles, set the table with the last of the flowers from the garden. She had given the home a soft touch, a feminine one it lacked. It was still entirely his own, his things, how he wanted them, she never forced herself in. But her presence did seem to make things a bit more palatable. Especially on the bad days.

— They’d drank their wine, a bit over indulgent but no harm done. Sitting on opposite ends of a fainting couch and listening to the sea beat onto the shore outside the window. The fire roared away, Ruth shivered despite being under a blanket. She despised the cold, she always froze in the winter and without a fireplace in her bedroom she was already getting a bit chilled at night.

But in the shadow of the fire, warm and fuzzy on wine and seeing a snoozing Alfie it was far from her mind. She watched him with his harmless exterior, sat back and snoring lightly in his chair. He looked peaceful and rather adorable she would admit to herself. Lips pooched out with a chin pushed back into his neck, all snuggled into his beard on his chest. She sat with her elbow on the arm of the chair, chin in her hand and stared, took all of him in without judgement. She barely noticed the scars anymore honestly. She hadn’t known him without them. They seemed to suit him almost. A grumpy bear of a man she mused. The bear's nose twitched and awoke with a grunt.

“Mmph. What time is it?” he mutters.

“You’ve only been out for a little while.” she answers with a sweet voice that calls his attention. He sees her propped up and comfortable, a content smile not hidden on her face as she continued to observe him.

“Ya watchin’ me sleep?” he blurts out without any grace.

“Suppose I was. You look so peaceful.”

“Was dreamin’ ‘bout you.” he admits.

“Really? What about?”

“We were on a balcony. ‘Spose that one outside my room. It was cold and dark.”

“Least it wasn’t a nightmare.” she adds supportively.

“Far from it.” he grumbles, not giving away the other details of the dream of a warmth between them and their affections shown physically.

“Must’ve been nice. You looked happy.”

“Mmph.” he didn't want to give away any more than he already had. “Why didn’t you wake me? Or go to bed yaself?”

“You looked happy. Like I said. Didn’t want to bother you.”

He nods in acknowledgement. “That why ya lookin’ at me like that then?”

“I was just thinking.” she sighs out.

“‘Bout?”

“You.”

“Are you inclined to share your observations?”

“When you sleep you remind me of a bear.” she answers with a smile, her head tilted against the back of the chair.

“Ah.” he thumbs his nose. “A fierce beast indeed.”

“I should clarify I meant a stuffed bear.” she grins.

“What sort of stuffy would look like ‘is eh?” he retorts. Not exactly defensive, but not entirely not either.

“A well loved one.”

The smile she gives him makes him stop adjusting his posture and give her a gaze back. He looks her over for a moment, the wine leaving her relaxed with no sign of embarrassment in her body language.

“You look soft, comfortable. Your head down like your stuffing has been hugged about the neck so many times it’s lost its support. You’re worn and well-loved, threadbare in places. Some seams have split and you’ve lost an eye from your adventures but you’re still the same bear.”

He doesn’t know what to say. He hadn’t heard her speak in such a way before. He knew her for her positive outlook but she sounded so… soft and dare he imagines loving with her poetic observations.

“But we’ve given you a good scrub, cleaned you up. Sewed up the seams and given you a lovely new pearl button for an eye. You’ll be good for years to come.” she practically coos, her head shaking backing and forth in support of her statement.

“You… are drunk.” he states.

“Oh pish posh Alfie, what if I am?” she raspberries her lips.

“Would explain this monologue you’re on about.”

“You are though. Drunk or not I’d mean it. I didn’t mean to offend you. I only meant it as a compliment.”

“Didn’t say I was offended did I? Far from it.”

“Good.” she states and snuggles into the blanket around her shoulders. “Because you should see yourself that way.”

“Might take a bit more than kind words to change me own mind, love.”

“I’ve got them. I’ll keep trying.” she tires.

“Pearl button.” he chuckles.

“It shines in the firelight like an opal. Colors.” she yawns with smacking lips and closed eyes. “Or the moon in a cloudy sky.” she begins to murmur, sleep beginning to find her by force. “Lovely, really.” she barely whispers.

“Oh, darlin’.” he breathes out, watching the little mouse lose her fight with wine and sleep. “You’re too good to a man like me,” he declares before sitting up and moving her way. He doesn't have the heart to disturb her, only closing up the doors and placing the blanket he had over him onto her as well, giving an extra pillow for her to snuggle up to when she inevitable made the descent to laying horizontal. “Sweet little thing,” he murmurs, pushing back her hair from her face. “Don't take more than one eye to see how lovely you are Ruth.” he smiles softly and adjusts the cover around her. “Night, love.” he places a kiss to her head and she gently stirs, a little muffled hum from the touch. That’s what he’d go to bed tonight thinking about, that soft face spilling out honest words about how she truly saw him. He hoped his dream from before would return, he had lots of ideas for how to finish it now. ——

The cold had set in for the season, a crisp wind against the panes as the fire inside roared away. He supposes his compromised body, busy healing him from the shot was too preoccupied and hadn’t managed to keep up with its usual form of defense against the illness that made its way around this time of year. Ruth held herself responsible even though Alfie told her not to be ridiculous. He hadn’t left the house, he shouldn’t have had any way to get sick. She must’ve brought it in from the market she guesses. With her guilt heavy, and even if she wasn’t, her care of him always went above and beyond what was expected.

“We have just broth this time. Don’t want to upset your tummy further.”

“Tummy the medical term?” he still gives a sarcastic response despite his head hanging over the bed and the remnants of breakfast in the bucket below him.

“I’ll call it what I like.” she speaks with confidence as she wipes down his face with a cloth to clear his beard. “You need to stop being so mouthy and relax.”

“All the times I’ve been told that in my life...”

“You’d think you would’ve learned to listen by now.” she gives his cheek a gentle pat as she tucks the blankets in around him. “Take a few sips and wait. Then if you keep it down within the hour we’ll try some tea.

“Ugh.” he groans, his head spinning and for the first time not from the injury. He was just plain sick. Some stomach something that made him hot and cold and sleep like the dead. “I don’t want to eat a 'fing.”

“That means you’re still sick and you need the energy. So do as I say, please.”

She was stern but kind, reminded him of his mum a bit. She never shied away from the gross bits, whisking the tray away as soon as she saw his face turn and she knew he was going to be sick. She cleaned him up and bathed him to sweat out the sickness. He was so exhausted he didn’t have it in him to even tease her about seeing him naked. This told her he was especially sick. So when the hour got late and he was nowhere near where she’d like him to be in recovery, she stoked the fire and changed into her pajamas, setting everything he could possibly need by the bed.

“You’re burning up, love.” she whispered with a hand to his forehead. He only nods in agreement. “I’m going to stay with you tonight. Is that okay?”

“MMph?” a questioning glance shot her way.

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“You 'fink I’m gonna die?”

“No, I don’t think you’re going to die.” she chuckles and smoothes back his hair. “But I want to keep an eye on you nonetheless. You poor thing. I know you feel miserable.”

“Aye.” he moans.

“Do you mind me asking something personal?”

“What?” he gruffs out, sat back into the stacked pillows with a frown.

“When you were little... what did your mum do when you were sick?”

“Have me sleep with her. Do that lovely fing you women do with the fingers in the hair.” he grunts at the exhaustion he feels trying to reach his hand up to ruffle his own.

“Then I’ll do that then, yeah?” she suggests.

“Not a baby.”

“Tonight you are.” she smiles, crawling into the bed next to him. She makes herself a little nest and situates. “Would you like laying on my lap? A lot of people prefer it. That or on the chest, heartbeat is soothing, but I’m afraid I don’t want you that close to my face.”

“Don’t blame you.” he groans and moves slowly, to roll onto her legs.

“Curl up a bit, sometimes that helps with the stomach cramps.” she rubs his back, damp from sweat soaked through his pajamas as she lets him nestle up against her. Another sign he was very sick was his lack of defense of the idea. Men did love to be comforted in a maternal way when they were ill. She’d learned that quickly in her years as a nurse. This man wasn’t any different, it seemed. “That’s a good boy, now.” she feels a yawn coming on, fingers carding through the damp strands as she feels him rest his weight on her. “You aren’t accustomed to getting so ill are you?”

“No.” he laments.

“Your system has been through it as of late, hasn’t it? Healing you up so well it forgot to man the gates.” she lets out a soft laugh and his eyes are already shut. “Poor darling.” She whispers with a sweet lilt that gives him a moment of strength to wrap his arm over her legs. “Rest now, love, you’ve earned it. I’ll be here.” She continues to stroke through his hair as a snore quickly rises from his full lips.

He awoke without the usual ache in his body he’d grown accustomed to. Tiredness that was very much there, but the pain was dull and far away. He feels his head move with a soft rise and fall, realizing he was on Ruth’s stomach and he was feeling her breathing. He knew she was asleep by the steady rhythm it kept and it made him want to rejoin her. He felt the weight of her hand on his back and the other with an open book against the bed. By the small amount of light in the sky, he could determine she’d tried to stay awake and failed, but he had succeeded in getting an almost full night's rest for the first time that week. It must’ve been the fever breaking his rational mind thought, but he also concluded that the affection surely didn’t hurt his chances of recuperation either. —-

With frost heavy on the windowpane that night, Ruth kept adding more wood to the fire in the lounge to try to combat the freezing temperatures.

“Gonna have to move back inland to chop me own trees if ya keep feedin' it in such a way.”

“I’m sorry I’m just... freezing.” She whines with a sigh, pulling up her socks and tucking her feet beneath her on the chair that had been designated as hers unofficially over the weeks she’d been living there.

He looks to see her jumper layered over an undershirt, long johns and her big socks pulled up to her knees with her boots still on. “You’ve got more on than I do, ya still cold?”

“I’m always cold.” She mumbles. “Nights are worse.”

“Ya have a proper coat? A wool jumper instead of that knit one?”

“No.” A voice that was small and clearly embarrassed.

“Do I not pay ya enough to buy the things you need?” His tone wasn’t one of judgment which she was relieved by, but she still felt suddenly inadequate under his gaze.

“You do, you’re very gracious I just... I've been saving it.”

“Ah.” He nods, still looking her over. He wanted to ask her for what, but he supposed it wasn’t any of his business. But his curiosity and her silence got the better of him. “May I ask for what?”

“Just... life.” She shrugs. “For a place of my own one day. Being an unmarried woman I need to be able to support myself at any given moment if need be. Things happen. I like to be prepared.” She sheepishly answers.

“Well, that’s smart of ya innit.” He approves. “How about we go out tomorrow and I buy you a new coat? Get ya some good winter protection since you’re such a small thing. Won’t have ya freezin' in my house.”

“That’s very kind of you but it’s not necessary. I’d considered taking up knitting. I could make some things for myself.”

“You need something better quality than you could pull together. Not to be rude, love. It’s a good hobby to have but the weather by the sea demands more.”

“It is so much colder than it is inland. The wind bites to your bones.”

“That it does. So we’ll go. You aren’t spendin' your money on something like... fuckin gamblin' or what not, ya bein smart, so I don’t mind to step in. Consider it a gift for your excellent work.”

“You don’t have to-“

“Hush now Ruth. You don’t reject gifts now do ya. I know you were raised better than that.” He teases.

“Thank you. It’s very generous.” She finally accepts and pulls a duvet over her shoulders.

Her chattering begins to be noticeable to him. His injured side still hearing her sniffling and shifting as the night carried on even if he could not see it. “How have you been makin' it through the night without a fire if you’re already so cold?” He inquires without looking her way.

“I haven’t been really. I’ve had a hot water bottle and a warmed iron in my bed, sleeping in my clothes and that.”

“Unacceptable.” He grumbles. “You should’ve said something, pet.”

“I didn’t want to be a bother.”

“You have never been a bother and you could never be, Ruth. Anything you need you just ask. Promise me.”

“Yes, Alfie” she agrees hesitantly.

“Good girl, now c’mere” he instructs, raising the blanket thrown over his lap. “Use the 'ol sharin' body heat in the meantime.”

“Are you su-“

“Get over here Ruth. Your teeth will grind down to nothing with the chattering they’re doing over there by the window.” He orders with more conviction, another motion of his hand to beckon her closer.

She sighs but begins to move, a nod of agreement, because he was right.

“Won’t have you catchin' a cold when a simple intervention of body heat will help remedy the situation.”

She brings her blanket around her shoulders, dragging behind her on the carpet as she shuffled towards him. Wordlessly she sits next to him as he pats the cushion, direction to sit close.

With only the crackle of the fire, he puts an arm over her shoulders, tucking the blanket now shared as he pulls her legs into his lap.

“Get these feet warmed up, eh?” He mutters, unlacing her boots as she watches him with curious eyes. The delicate movements of his fingers catch her off guard by the attention they demand of the firelight shining off his rings. “Beneath the legs. Toes under here, there ya are.” He mumbles while tucking her feet under his thigh to warm her. “Don’t be shy, we’ve had a cuddle before.” He chuckles as he pays her back. Her little body, in comparison to his, curls up against him. “Lookit is nose, red as a beet yeah? Can’t have that.” He takes her nose and places his palm over it and makes her laugh. “You are freezin' love, my goodness.” He remarks softly, rhetorically. “There now. Better?” He asks with genuine concern as he runs her back over the blanket.

“Yes actually.” She admits quietly. “You’re very warm.”

“Aye. Good it’s going to use then, yeah?” He looks back to the book he’d been reading. She feels a bit limited, being in such a confined space with him. She was on his blind side but that didn’t stop him noticing she was staring. “ You’ve seen me every day, love, what could there possibly be to look at you haven’t seen before?”

She gives him a grin. “I haven’t had to be so close in some time now. You’re still doing very well. Swelling is gone.” Her fingers trace over his scars that run from the line of his beard to his temples. “Healed up nicely. Hardly any displacement. Scars will always be there but a small price for what you’ve been through.”

“Thanks to you.” His way of accepting the compliment.

“I think you had a bit to do with it.” She lets out a soft chuckle. “I think you wear it well. Not just anyone could make this sort of look work for them.”

“Not that I’ve had a choice.”

“You certainly do.”

“How so? Can’t exactly choose what I look like.”

“No, but you have a very strong face, Alfie.”

“That’s a way to say ugly and still be polite.”

She laughs and her forehead pressed into his collar bone for a moment. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’d never say such a thing as it would be a lie.”

“Backtracking now are we?” He turns to show his good eye and an amused but teasing face.

“No!” She laughs and snuggles a bit closer to get his warmth.

“Hush and snuggle up ya little ice lolli.”

“Strong means exactly that. Strong.” She rests her head on his shoulder with his permission. Hair nuzzling against the scars they spoke of. “Masculine, you know. Hard brow, pronounced nose and jaw. And all symmetrical.” She yawns. “ Most can’t say that without getting shot.” She lets out a soft laugh.

“What did you break? You’re being too nice again.”

She lets out another giggle and it makes him smile.

“You know I would’ve come running and crying if I had.”

“True.” He agrees.

“You have an intense air about you. Suits the whole… look. That’s all.”

“Then thank you, Ruth, love.”

“Welcome.” She sighs with a smack of her lips.

She falls quiet, gentle breathing against his chest he doesn’t mind in the least. As much of a surprise to him as anyone else.

“Ya asleep?”

“Mmmph. Warm. Comfy.” She mumbles.

“Then let's go to bed, yeah? At least until we can fix the cold in your room.”

“Together?”

“Yeah, love, I’ll keep ya warm. Let me be of use to ya somehow. For what all you’ve done for me.”

“No use in arguing with you. Won’t win.” She answers with a sly smile that makes him laugh.

“Kind and smart. Gonna have to hold onto you aren’t I?”

His response causes a warm happy hum in her throat that makes him lean in to kiss her head before he wraps her up and takes her in his arms to carry her.

“Don’t strain yourself.” She tells him, waking up and wrapping her arms around his neck instinctually.

“I know me limits.” He grumbles back defensively. “Don’t worry, you just keep warm.” He adds more softly as he carries her down the hall.

With a well-fed fire and a comfortable position found in his bed, Alfie and his little mouse burrow up, her without her usual wall of hesitation as she hungrily pulls herself towards him, so relieved at the promise of a night not freezing alone.

As she had done before, watching over and being of service to him, he returns the favor night after night. Watching over her and the total abandon on her face as she slept. She looked so innocent in his arms, dark hair and lashes that lay stark against her skin. Besides their buzzed conversations, these nights were a close second in his favorite way to spend his time. He felt useful to her. Like he could entertain he could ever repay her for the help she’d given him. Laying with the strong but fragile-looking woman in his arms gave him something carnal he missed. He felt like a man for the first time in a long while. He hadn’t known if he’d ever feel such a way after being shot. He thought women may run in fear of him, left to pay for any kindness or intimacy with them. But one had appeared that made his chest warm, his belly full and his mind occupied. She’d been a comfort from the beginning, but he was suspecting he was becoming one for her as well.

--------

Alfie hadn’t had very many visitors since coming home and it’d been months. Very few people seemed to know he was even alive from what Ruth gathered. The only people that visited him seemed to be Jewish businessmen she’d never seen before. Most were Orthodox and very polite but they spoke suspiciously quietly while they met with Alfie.

She greeted them all enthusiastically making tea or bringing biscuits as Alfie suggested and this time was no different. She’d even put on her maid uniform even though she was more than a bit cold in it. But unlike times before, they spoke louder, as did Alfie, sounding a bit distressed. She was doing her work, scrubbing at the entryway where they had tracked in mud from their trip to the market.

She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, it just happened she was in proximity with her work. She hadn’t meant to listen and hear things she shouldn’t have, but she did. Now she knew who Alfie Solomons was, and him being shot now made sense.

That evening Alfie, as is in his way, already knows she’s heard him. He could tell from the moment she took away the tray from tea. The lack of eye contact, the almost sad but cautious expression. None of it was lost on him.

After supper, he knows there’s a conversation that needs to be had. He knew no better way to approach it than head-on.

“I know you heard what me 'n those men were talkin' 'bout today.” She says nothing and keeps knitting. “I’m not angry, you can look at me, Ruth.”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“I didn’t assume as much but thank you for clarifying.” He answers calmly.

“I was working on the floor. The mess from going to the market and the wet and that.”

“Mmm.” He nods. He says nothing having learned it is better to let people talk themselves instead of probing in most cases.

“I’m not… in trouble am I?” She asks with big eyes.

“Not if you can keep a secret.”

“I’ve not told anyone that you’re here either.” she adds quickly.

“Good. Then no problem, yeah?”

She gives a sharp nod.

“But I would like to know. For my own selfish reasons, what you think now. Because you aren’t lookin' at me the same.

“It was a shock at first. But upon reflection it made sense. The big house, money, the guns” she recognizes. “You’re very well-spoken and read. Clearly a man of intelligence. You can be very intimidating at times and it seems natural. I thought perhaps it was just your turn but it seems it’s learned for… work purposes.”

“You’re very observant, Ruth. Very clever.”

“Thank you.”

“All those things are true. I won’t deny them to you because you deserve the truth. But I am retired now. I don’t do that sort of work now. I put in my time and it’s given me the means to have this sort of life. Now I can sit back and use the reputation, yeah, the power that comes with such a name and life lived.”

She nods bashfully again.

“Will this be a problem?” He questions after a moment of silence between them.

“Am I… I’m not in danger am I?” She asks with the same honest eyes as earlier.

“Oh pet.” He sighs out, reaching out and taking her down turned chin into his hand. “ I would never put you in danger. Do you understand? You’re far too important.”

“Okay.” A soft solution that cues him to move his hand to hold hers.

“Do you think less of me now?” An upfront inquiry she hadn't expected.

She takes a moment to consider her answer. She didn’t feel threatened or scared of him. He admires her ability to slow down and consider her words before speaking. It was a skill many lacked. “No.” She shakes her head. “You have been nothing but kind to me. Grumpy sure but that’s a personality trait and not the core of a persons being. You’ve been generous and thoughtful. As I see it you’ve done no wrong to me, and that is all I can base my judgments on. Who youwere before doesn’t seem to be who you are now. I believe people can change. You’re a good man to me. One of the best I’ve known and I suppose it makes no difference how you made your life.”

“That is a relief. And so thoughtfully spoken.” He gives her hand a squeeze.

“I know some think me naive. As my kind nature can be mistaken."

“You are not naive. You’re very smart. Have a lovely, clever wit about you. You’re a good woman. You have a good heart. I admire that about you.” He lets go of her hand and sits to look at her, meeting her eyes intensely. “What I want to know now, is do you want to continue to live here with me? Now that you know?”

She doesn’t consider it as long as he expected which makes him let out a relieved sigh. “I do. I trust you. And trust your word. I feel safe here... with you. Safer now still than I did living alone.”

“It does make me happy to hear such news.”

“But Alfie…” She begins. “You know, and I only bring it up because you did first. But you are aware you no longer... need me, right? Save the housework I haven’t had to be your nurse in a few weeks now. I’m no longer needed for the purpose I was hired for.”

“You are not needed for that purpose, no.” He shakes his head. “But you do not wish to go?”

“I do like it here. And you. But, I hate to put my foot in my mouth to ruin a good thing but I’m still being paid for things I’m no longer doing.”

“Mmph. That would seem to be the case yeah.” He nods, looking into the fire. “Perhaps I hadn’t brought it up because I don’t want you to leave.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I don’t.” He shakes his head. “I like you, Ruth. And I can count on one hand the people I’ve liked in my life. I’d choose you to stay here. With me. I wouldn't charge you rent. And I do like how you keep a house. And cook. And… many other things about you.” He pauses. “But I would like to know. Do you like me? Would you want to stay?”

“Am I… reading too much into this being a loaded question?”

“I’m not proposing anything indecent. Not asking anything of you. I genuinely enjoy you. You as a person. And I don’t want you to leave. Your company would be missed. Greatly.”

“You want me to live with you? Not as an employee? Am I… understanding you?”

“Yes.”

“If not as an employee then...as what?”

“You’re a good woman Ruth and I don’t want to insinuate or offend. I do enjoy our friendship. But I believe there is the possibility of more there. And I would be willing to help you out, as we could help each other out, by living together and giving that a chance. No professional lines crossed, and if you find you do not want to stay I would never keep you against your will. But I believe you might feel the same way. If I am so bold to suggest.”

“You are bold.” He can’t get a solid read on her expression as it holds many things. “But you are… also correct.”

“Would you like to take a chance then, Ruth love?” He takes her hand again. “I know a man like me has no business asking this of a woman like you. One as lovely and smart with so much to offer but if I didn’t I know I’d spend the rest of my life alone and regretting it.”

“A man like you has every right to ask such a thing of me.” She lets out a soft huff of a laugh to being flattered.

“Nothing has to change. Business as usual and no funny business on my behalf. I can behave. Despite rumors.”

She gives him a smile. One that reassured him of her answer. “I would like that. We remove the confines of professionalism. No taboos just, two very good friends… exploring the possibility of more. Organically.”

“You put it in such an easily understood way, dear.”

“I can agree to that.” She nods with a nod of confidence.

“Then it’s settled.”

“So it is.” She beams back. A moment of silence hangs between them. “How about a cuppa before bed? Special brew to celebrate?”

“Always full of good ideas, you are. I’d love that.”

——————-

That night when it's time to go to bed Ruth has regained that same nervous smile she had in the beginning.

“It feels a bit different now, yeah?” She states with a nervous laugh.

“A bit. But it won’t be. Everything moves at your own pace, love. Do you still want to sleep in here?”

“Oh, yes” she very quickly answers much to his relief. “I can admit now it’s far too pleasant sleeping with you to go back to that freezing room. I mean, sharing a bed with you… you know what I mean. Why am I being so particular?” She laughs at herself.

“S’all right.” He speaks comfortingly and as always lifts his arm to accomodate her against him. “You’re rather endearing when you’re nervous.”

“Lucky me.” She snickers. “ I would like... some minor adjustments?” She asks sitting up to meet his face on her elbow.

“Anything you want, darlin'.”

“Just… here.” She scoots closer to move her feet under lhis eg, taking his hand that lay next to him on the bed and resting it on his chest. “And one more thing.” She asks with batting lashes, “Nothing indecent about a goodnight kiss to the cheek right?” She asks before planting one on the scarred side of his face.

“Nothin' a ‘tall. Spoilin’ a man.”

“This is a good start.” She coos with tired eyes, already putting her head to his chest to listen to his breathing and heart. She takes his hand into hers and laces their fingers together. “Goodnight Alfie.” She sighs out. A content and pleased sound.

“That it is, Ruth. That it is.” He closes the night with a kiss to her hair. A new nightly ritual begins.

————-

Their courtship began and despite the fluttering in her stomach she was distinctly aware of now, it didn’t feel like much had changed. There was a certain closeness, an intimacy and tenderness that hadn’t been so blatant before. There were kisses to cheeks as they cooked, holding hands as they sat side by side on the chair in front of the fire at night. Quick strolls around the estate, hand in hand to knock the dust off Alfie's shoes as he put it. He’d started venturing out more as well. Returning home with trinkets and sweets to gift Ruth to show his fondness. She’d never had a man give her gifts, and even the simplest purchase of something she’d needed such as socks or soap, made her blush and feel pampered. They were moving closer to something increasingly serious between one another each day, and they were both waiting for the other to cut the tension.

Their Shabbat is spent together as always, days spent cooking and nights spent leisurely enjoying each other’s company after blessings in the confinement of their home. Ruth had an air of ease about her now that she was being courted and the barrier of being in Alfie's employ was gone. This led to her being over indulgent in wine for the Friday evening, but Alfie didn’t particularly mind.

She went to bed when he had, a late night with a bright moon and stars. She woke up shortly after a brief rest, feeling hot in his embrace. She peels herself from the bed, feet hitting the cold floor and her still buzzed state becoming acutely aware to her. She shuts the door, Alfie grumbling as she left after a kiss to his cheek and a whisper of “I'll be back darling, sleep”.

She made her way with the fog of rest and wine in her eyes as she lit a candle in the hallway. She took a sweet from the glass dome they were housed in and proceeded to stand in front of the glass double doors that outlook the beach. The ocean was still awake, a sparkling blue and gray as it lapped at the sand. There wasn’t a soul out to feel the salt air except for Ruth. Her face was flushed, the breeze welcome and fluttering her dressing gown to ease the side effect of the wine. After many content sighs, lazy blinks that turned the glimmer of moonlight on the water into small seemingly touchable stars she retreats to the confines of the dark and quiet house. She turns on the record player, something she enjoyed when she was drunk, and on occasion when she wasn’t and Alfie wasn’t home. With one door open, a tinkling of the chandelier above her as she spun and sashayed about the room with the bell sleeves of her gown adding a decorative flair to her lonely waltz.

Alfie had slept through plenty of things Ruth had done in the house, including playing music. But perhaps the lack of another body in the bed for too long made him restless, his mind refusing to tune it out.

Ruth was swaying with eyes closed and a content smile as she moved around the dark collection of Alfie's things. Light filtered through the gems on the chandelier and gave the room a smattering of bright spots that moved with the breeze and her raised arms as she felt the music move about her.

She was none the wiser to Alfie standing in the archway watching her. He moved as quiet as a mouse down the hall, suspecting no foul play at the music in the night. He smiled at the swirling woman, being happily surprised by what he found waiting for him. He had grown to enjoy having music on during waking hours, a pleasant distraction and a chosen aesthetic to the day to set whichever mood he fancied. But it seemed Ruth was the one setting the tone that filled the room tonight.

In her light-colored gown, a blue gray in the moonlight, she moved in and out of the beam coming from the open door. Her hair was down and free, waves moving with the fabrics with her small hands orchestrating along. She takes a swift spin to follow the string section, opening her eyes as she stumbles slightly. A happy laugh escapes her before she notices Alfie watching. A small gasp leaves shortly after with wide eyes that admitted guilt to being caught.

“Did the music wake you? I’m so sorry Alfie, my love, I thought I had it low enough that it wouldn’t.” She rushes over apologetically to the machine but a gentle and assertive hand stops her before she can hurriedly remove the needle and most likely scratch the record in the process.

“It did but no apologies needed, love. Your absence was what caused me to venture out more than the noise.” He explains.

“I woke up in a heat and needed some air.” She elaborates.

“That what happens when you drink too much.” He chuckles before giving her chin an affectionate pinch.

“You’re right. As always.” She gives a bashful smile as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “Shall I shut this off and return to bed?” She asks with eager eyes and he finds himself sighing at the sight.

“No, no, love. Best not waste this lovely little scene you’ve set, eh?” He suggests as he straightens his posture and moves away from the wall. The candle in the hall was losing its fight against the darkness around it. It made no progress past the corridor and with a lack of fire in the room it was a peaceful display bathed in moonlight.

She looks at him curiously, not sure of the meaning of his words.

“Do you like to dance, Ruth?” He asks with an outstretched hand it takes her a moment to register its purpose.

“Oh yes. I do.” She nods.

“Would you like to now? With me?”

“I’d love that.” She smiles and takes his offered hand, small feet light as they were pulled along into the open space of the room among the rug and parted chairs.

“You’d never mentioned you liked it.” He observes.

“I’ve only done it alone before.”

“Ah. A shy one.” He grins and pulls her to his chest.

“Historically yes.” She laughs and happily takes her place against him. “You know better than anyone I am mostly hesitant to express myself and my wants.”

“Aye.” He nods, chin against her hair as a simple back and forth between them falls in naturally. A slow movement of feet, a swaying of shoulders as they leisurely made their way around the room. “But there is no need to be with me, pet. You’ll never get what you want if you don’t ask.”

“So wise.” She praises softly. “And so handsome. Really not fair.” She begins to giggle and hides her face in his chest.

“You’re still drunk.” He laughs and kisses her head.

“Only a touch. Enough to follow your advice. The wine helps you see. Helps me talk.”

“It can do that, yes.” He watches her face flushed and happy, lift to look at his.

“Sometimes I feel there’s so much in my head I want to say that I can’t choose where to even begin. So I don’t. But I want to.”

“Like what?” He inquires, giving her a chance to share her thoughts.

“Things… about you… and myself.”

“I have to admit I’m more than curious about your thoughts on the subject.” He teases and makes her smile with a dip of his head her way.

“I don’t even mind your teasing when I get to see you smile like that.” She catches him off guard with her softness as she always does. “You don’t smile often, so it’s like a little treat when you do. And when it’s directed at me…” she lets out a happy hum with a smile that warmed him against the wind whipping against his skin from the outside. “It just… makes a woman melt.” She admits with a soft laugh.

“Then I must admit yours makes me feel the same, love.” He kisses her forehead.

“You make me feel so… warm.” She sighs. “Like a constant hug. Or a big meal. It… feels so good.” She brings a hand up from his chest to rest it against his cheek. “I’ve never…” She stops and her eyes narrow just slightly in thought. “I’ve grown so fond of you, Alfie.” She finally verbalizes.

“And I you.” He keeps his voice soft as to not distract her.

“And you’re so… much. Smart and funny and lovely and so very good to me. And despite your insistence to the contrary, I do find you terribly handsome.”

“This what you’ve wanted to say to me love?” He nuzzles his nose against her head with an almost patronizing smile. As is his way. “Because it seems you’re only speaking my mind, as I feel about you. You kind and beautiful little woman. Clever and hard working. And bless you, finding me easy to look at.” He presses a long kiss to her cheek that makes her stomach flip and a smile that carries across her entire face bloom.

“I do. Because you are. And for that and so many reasons I really do very much care for you. Beyond friendship. Beyond platonic now.”

“Will you stay with me then darlin'? Ease my worries for losin' a treasure like you?”

“Of course. I don’t want to lose you either.” Is her honest and heartfelt response.

“So if I did what I truly wanted… and kissed you you wouldn’t be offended and run?”

“A man like you asking permission lets me know I am in fact exactly where I’m supposed to be. With you. So carry on with what we both want.” Her lips are still smiling as they finally close the space between them.

He was gentle with her. His hand moving from hers and to her head. It was short and chaste, as he didn’t want to offend her with more. She was by nature delicate and easily overwhelmed at times. The kiss’s purpose wasn’t to convince her for more but seal their courtship as official.

Small affectionate pecks follow. As they stand in the chilled room with nothing other than a warm feeling between them.

“I do believe it’s you and not the wine making me dizzy at this point.” She admits with a giggle against his lips.

“Then how about we get you to bed? There are always more kisses to be had whenever you want them. I’d never rush you, my love.”

“I do believe you’re right. I’m feeling a bit tired. And the promise of cozying up to you is more alluring than the breeze and music at this point in the night.”

“Then let’s do just that.”

—————————

Alfie had been put down for a nap as Ruth likes to affectionately tease him. He still suffered from the odd headache from time to time from the injury but a simple low dose of medicine and rest could always take the edge off he needed to function. If that didn’t solve it then Ruth’s humming and oiled fingers massaging his face and scalp could do the trick.

With a sweet kiss and words to leave him to drift into sleep, Ruth takes the time alone to see to the things she had on her to-do list.

Alfie wakes, just slightly groggy and becoming quickly aware of the silence in the house. There was usually some noise with Ruth around, the clinking of dishes or music floating about but his shuffling feet carrying him into the hall led to nothing. Perhaps she’d gone to town, she did say she needed some things for tea. With a shrug he helps himself to water and makes his way back with more open eyes than before. This time he sees the residing place of Ruth, and it was a bit of a shock on the old man.

Ruth had always taken her baths while Alfie napped. With medicine assuring he’d be down for a while she always left the door cracked to hear him call for her if needed. This time was no different.

Alfie heard the plinking of water first, his feet stopping in their tracks as the reflection in the mirror leaves him with a slack jaw after taking in the view. Ruth was exiting the bath, a reflection of soft curves bare to him for the first time. A lump in his throat grows, her toweling off and then turning with falling tendrils of hair wet and springing against the nape of her neck. Ruth was a modest woman, in her beliefs and her dress. Seeing her, and unexpectedly made Alfie behave like any man would, which surprised him. He didn’t consider himself just any man, and here he was with a storky, frozen like a teen seeing a naked woman for the first time. Admittedly it had been some time since he’d been with one. His life before didn’t really lean to him having any romance. He was busy, he was dangerous and he couldn’t risk any distractions. But he was no longer that man. A softness that had grown from wear and Ruth’s influence made him stop and take note of what was being blessed to him with his good eye.

As he sees her weighted breasts and soft stomach and hips disappear behind a towel he comes out of his trance and rubs his face, grunting as he makes his way back to his bed.

Ruth, none the wiser comes and kisses him goodbye. The grumpy and pursed-lip bear that was still in recline. She said she would only be gone a short while, as she needed plenty of time to prep dinner. She had said it many times and come home at almost dusk, so he hadn’t expected today to be any different.

Except she had. She’d wanted to celebrate their future together and attempt the bread he usually makes. Bread took time as he was certain to teach her and she wasn’t about to risk under proving it. Most of the time when she’d medicated him, Alfie would sleep through the afternoon. She would usually go in and check on him, a quick kiss before leaving to prepare for the evening. This was her plan as she moved light-footed down the hallway, but a new sound makes her stop and her eyes search for the source before she reaches his door. Now Ruth wouldn’t call herself nosey as much as cautiously curious, and at first, the sound worried her, heavy breathing, groaning, perhaps her poor darling was having a nightmare. But before she could turn the knob of the door she hears her name. And not called in any sort of way she’d heard before. It was needful, but not in a way that demanded her aid. This breathy call was asking for something different.

She gulps and a flush rises to her cheeks. With a flutter of lash she feels as if she’s been naughty and will be caught in the act of misbehavior. The longer she stays and listens, the less she becomes worried and the more… intrigued she becomes.

Alfie was no stranger to swearing, even in the company of Ruth who hadn’t ever minded as it’s never been directed maliciously at her. But she could hear the push of his stomach muscles, the strain in his neck as he said her name, soft words of encouragement for what she was sure were scandalous acts happening behind his lids in his mind. “Take it, pet.” he moans through gritted teeth, her hand moving to her chest to steady herself. “Fuck me, that’s it, love.” She knew what was happening behind the door, as he was only a man, it didn’t surprise her exactly but what did was her reaction to it. A heat in her face that sent a tingle down her spine that landed right between her legs. Her mind hurriedly imagined what he looked like, legs splayed and hand slowly gripping himself, those soft lips panting and begging things of her. She felt oddly powerful and the way her body reacted so quickly, so thoroughly was the real surprise to her. He wanted her, and in the biblical sense. It was a natural progression of their relationship, and one she had admittedly been considering more as of recent with the late-night snogs and roaming hands. It was a relief for her, she realized. Knowing he wanted her, and badly. It was a thought that followed her around all afternoon and into the evening. All the way to her bed.

With a pause in the cooking, now only waiting for timers to alarm, Ruth in her state of distraction excuses herself. Saying she was going to freshen up before the meal as she’d been out. Alfie doesn’t think much of it, a normal thing for a woman to do.

He waits and decides to peruse in his office, a room beside Ruth’s old bedroom. He was looking for a particular contract he’d been working on, the beginnings of a Ketubah. The sounds that tickle his ears are not as holy as the intention the document represents but they are indeed heavenly.

Ruth, hiding away in her bedroom under the guise of being in the bathroom is tucked away letting her body lead the way her hands move against herself. She’d been distracted and wet all afternoon. Every touch of Alfie's hands to her skin had ran red hot through her. She couldn’t hear a breathy chuckle and not think of her name leaving his wet mouth in much the same sound. She had to give in to what her body was calling out for, but she wasn’t exactly quite ready to reach the final step with Alfie.

In her throws she doesn’t notice the opening of the door through the wall that his study shared with her bedroom, her back resting against it as she sat on her bed with her face in tense concentration. Waves move her body and her voice, growing moans as her fingers circle and stroke. She imagined Alfie and his full lips on her breast as her fingers teased it through her dress. She imagined those firm thighs against hers and he moved in rhythm above her. A breathy and light call of his name escapes her as, in her mind, his lips find her neck.

On the other side of the wall, Alfie was feeling tortured. What a little minx she was. Seeing her naked and now hearing her touching herself proved too much on the man. His blood surged forward like a much younger man, even after sinfully meeting his needs earlier in the day, his cock was gaining more and more attention as her sounds continued.

He pressed his ear to the wall, a hand rubbing himself over his trousers and another in a fist. “Fuck, love.” He sighs out, hearing her whimper out his name.

She continues with her melodic moans until his body aches and can no longer be ignored. As hard a diamond he strokes himself, hearing her just on the other side of the wall, almost feeling her panting breaths.

“Oh my… Alfie yes, please.” She whines and tenses her thighs.

In his mind he gives over, his hand firm and fast and already nearing an end at the rather unorthodox means he was hearing a woman get off. She was a tease and didn’t know it. Trying to contain herself and be decent, take care of herself in private. But it made it even more delicious for him. He knew now she wanted him, and it gave him control. He knew he’d have her now. A proper woman like her didn’t want to fuck just anyone. She wanted to fuck someone she loved and the revelation of it all, between the two of them as they crested with moans and open mouths, was as intense as their orgasms. It was only a matter of time now that the known could remain a secret.

———————

Another Shabbat, another day spent close together. There was food and drink and sweets, an intimate dinner by candlelight that left them both feeling closer than ever.

Their evening is spent snuggled up on the couch. Ruth sat in his lap and read to him as his head rested against her chest, her fingers rubbing through his hair. He loved the sound of her voice. He also loved the feel of it. Something he hadn’t noticed before. The way her chest rose and fell and vibrated his head as she comforted him. She reads poetry he’d heard so many times before, making them both feel sentimental and appreciative of the other. Especially when they were nestled so closely in each other’s arms.

“I’ve never enjoyed anything with another person as much as I love simply being here and reading with you.” She reflects as she kisses his fussed hair.

“And your company is unrivaled.” He gives a smile and a kiss to her chest in agreement.

“You’re my favorite person you know.” She whispers and nuzzles her nose against him.

“And you mine. No one else has ever made me see the world as you have. A spotlight of optimism, a softness that endured against my most hard and stubborn parts. You’ve made me better. More human and somehow more powerful for it. Parts of me long lost were touched by you, love. I do hope you know how special you are to me.”

“I do when you work your silver tongue like that.” She kisses the end of his nose before dipping down to share a lingering slow kiss. His hands were gentle against her, warm as they ran up and down over the blankets. As was her way she pecked away, keeping a certain distance to not lose herself in him with a hand braces to his cheek in his beard lightly.

“It’s only natural to speak of a woman like you in such a way.”

“Charmer.” Her giggles turn into happy sighs against him. “I would never wish for anything bad to happen to you, but being here because of something bad that happened I can’t help but be selfishly grateful for such a thing. I wouldn’t have come to know you this way without it. And I don’t want to be without knowing you now.”

“Having you here now gave it purpose. In a different life, before all this, I couldn’t have been with you. Not with the life I led, the man I was. Not a peaceful sort of existence like we have now. Together.”

“A good reminder of fate knowing better than we do.” She huffs out a laugh as her fingers move over his textured face. “Knowing what we both needed… how to get us there.”

“Don’t sell yourself and your own actions short, love. I wouldn’t be in such a good state without you. Without your mind, body and soul to help heal me.”

“Take your own words and don’t give me all the credit, Alfie. You’ve fought to be here. And I’m thankful for such a stubborn man.” She kisses his forehead and holds him close for a moment. “I have been thinking...”

“Yeah, love?” He takes her hand, seeing the bashful nature return. Making her look at him as she spoke.

“These last weeks, months have been so lovely. With us being together as we are now.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

“It’s made me consider a lot of things I hadn’t before. Living with you like this, feeling how I do about you. I want to stay here. With you. Like this. It’s too pleasant a life to pass up. And I… over these past weeks I’ve… Alfie, I do believe that I have fallen in love with you.” She manages to say with a sweet conviction.

She sees softness in his eyes take over. A dark hooded peek into his soul and a light cloudy one move over her face and take her cheek. “I am certain that I love you my little Ruth. And it pleases me beyond those silver-tongued words you admire to hear that you feel the same.”

“Alfie I do love you. It’s a fearsome thing to feel such a way. But it is such lovely torture to be blessed to have.”

“That it is.” He nods and the shine of tears in her eyes touches him, making his chest ache.

She leans in to kiss him, and one without the hesitation of them all before. A full connection, a sharing of breath and hands that held tight to him to match. After rounds of soft lips and teases of tongue she parts to breathe, feeling light-headed. Her closed eyes, forehead pressed to his face give away the emotions building inside her.

“Tell me Ruth my love, would you like to stay forever with me?”

“With you, Yes, always.” She exhales happily.

“Forever can start tonight if you want it love.”

“Yes. We’ve both waited so long already haven’t we?”

“That we have. A lifetime it seems.”

“Then… let us start our new life together, tonight.” Her fingers trace his skin along the inside of his collar. A clear indication of the meaning of her words.

“Is this what you want? Whatever it is I’ll give it to you Ruth. My world is yours now.”

“Yes. I want you. Every bit of you.” She whispers with her nose to his. “Make me yours in every way tonight.”

“You’re asking a lot of an old man there, love.” He smiles and makes her laugh into his cheek.

“Oh, Alfie.” She laughs and sighs, kissing his cheek. “I’ll take whatever you can give me you silly man.”

“That’s my girl.” He grins and kisses her cheek. “That laugh would keep me warm in the dead of winter I believe.” His voice soothing and deep as his nose grazed her jaw.

“You’ve already won me, seduced me. Let me do the same. I can show with actions more than tell with words. Let me tell you how much I love you in my own way.”

“Then no more words, only show.” He promises with a seal of a kiss that presses hard against her, beginning their melting into each other for the night. Tight hands around heads and backs give way to more need than their position allows.

A trail of clothes down the hall, a musical staff’s worth of varying laughs and sighs and moans follow them into the bedroom leaving them bare against the other. The journey to this destination might’ve been slow, but their hands and mouth give away the need they feel with the speed in which they move.

He knew he wasn’t a young man anymore, but she was neither a young woman. He made love to her the best way he knew how, first with his words, now with his body. Arching her back in the soft nest of bed they shared he kisses every point of her he’d dreamed of. Ears and neck to chest and hips. Her whimpering for him the entire way.

She needs him close. Her hands pulling him back up to her as she holds his face, a gasping kiss as she feels the heat of him presses against her stomach, her own hips giving away at how much she wanted to be one with him.

With soft lips attached to her neck, her own panting, he stroked her to a mewling mess. With small hands tense on his back, she begged for him, and he was happy to oblige. With her own wetness, he spreads it along himself between her hot and sensitive lips and over her clit to male her jump with every touch. She held her legs apart, welcoming him in eagerly.

With a tense push and a loud moan, they finally feel the chemistry between them realized. He swears into her shoulder, a hard brow concentrating as he felt her pulse around him, hips already asking more of him.

She moans out for him and God and in those moments moving inside her he felt they were one in the same. If he’d thought himself more than a man before, making this woman who was made of everything entirely good curse as she peaked only solidified the fact. As she shook he held her close, hips grinding together in a friction-filled union that took them both where they’d longed to go together. She was overwhelmed by the fill, the pressure, stretch and push of him. He was overcome by the squeeze, the pulse and the raw need he felt from the heavenly sounds escaping her mouth. They were only for him, and they’d only ever be for him again.

Not a care was given to the aftermath, the wet and mess that comes with lovemaking. They stayed together in it, lips connected and hearts in the same rhythm as they beat together chest to chest. Brief sweet praise, and exchanging of vows to belong to one another before the intensity caught up with them. The slowing of breathing and pulses died down to a whisper, the only heavy breathing that of sighs in their sleep as they held one another through the night. Each other was all that was needed in that big house by the sea. A place Alfie had called a slice of heaven in its picturesque existence.

Alfie had been given a second chance and he knew this. He knew this piece of heaven he’d carved for himself wouldn’t last forever. The day would come when he had to return to the world of mortal men and face his consequences, take a stand. However it played out as history saw fit. But for now, he would relish in this heaven he’d built with this woman. For he had convinced himself long ago he would go to hell. But the future would never again keep him from enjoying the present. His life was in the now, with her, and he planned on living this way as long as he could; in his own earthly heaven he’d built with Ruth, the most angelic woman he’d ever know.

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