#it’s in a hotel and I am dressed fancy and my feet are already hurting in these bloody heels

[mostlykind]

off to a fancy work thing today in central london and the thought of networking is awful but at least I only did work for like 2 hours

[romanarose]

For the Longest Time: Chapter 8 Part 2

William Miller x Fem!OC (Lorelei Giang)

Masterlist : Triple Frontier Masterlist :Playlist

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Summary: Bickering and THEN FUCKING!

Warnings: Bickering, Lorelei's issues WIIIIIIITH: Body image, her body count, her daddy and mommy issues, racist white men, military men, generational trauma, implied horrors committed during the vietnam war, trust issues. Will issues wiiiiiiith horrific child abuse, OCD, Benny, his back! Benny's issues wiiiith bulimia, ALICE. FUCKING. PIV sex, blowjob, dick so big it kinda hurts, lil cock waming, smooching smooching smooching, aftercare.

A/N: Okay now chapter 8 is fucking done. I cannot fucking wait for chapter 9 bc it's gonna be SO FUCCCCCCCKING DRAMATIC. We fianlly will get the full scope of what Alice is doing to our dear Benny and why Benny isnt himself.

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Lorelei packed her things in the hotel room in a fury, hobbling around in bare feet but still wearing her dress. She wanted out, she wanted to go home. 

After she had cried out all her tears on Frankie’s chest, he guided her over the table, his arm fast around her still. For a moment she worried Jana would be suspicious of her, but Jana wasn’t a jealous woman. She took a napkin, dipping it in water and stood to wipe off the make-up that had smeared. 

“I think I’m gonna just go to my room…” Lorelei mutters with a sniffle. Jana stands up and puts her flats back on.

“I’ll come with.”

“No, thank you.��� She shook her head, gathering her things but not looking at either of them. “I’m just gonna go home. Thank you, both of you.” And she meant it. Lorelei left, heading out of the ballroom and around the maze of the fancy hotel until she found her room again.

Lorelei wasn’t sure what she wanted, she wasn’t sure why she was so goddamn mad. Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it was the frustration of a long night, worry for Ben, anger at Alice for what she’s doing to him and things she’s said to Laci. Maybe she was just tired. Or maybe she was struggling with the fact that when she allowed herself to fall into him, the vulnerability was betrayed. She felt bad that she didn’t ask what Will saw, and that she didn’t follow him to confront Benjamin and Alice, but she was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to carry that much further.

“Lore? What are you doing?” Will’s voice was soft and cautious as he entered the room. Lorelei kept her back to him, shoving her clothes into her bag. 

“I’m going home, Will.”

There was a pause. “...To Philly?”

Lorelei stopped, hanging her head and sighing before she turned around to face him. “No, William. That’s not my home. I’m gonna call a taxi back to town, you stay here and sleep outside Ben’s door or something, I don’t care.” She turned back to her work, trying to keep her make-up and skin care organized still.

“Lorelei, I’m sorry for leaving you on the dance floor, I am, Fish already chewed me out.”

“I get it. It’s fine. Ben or more important to you than me, that makes sense.”

“Baby, what are you-”

She was practically shoving things in her bag now, anger making her less organized. “He’s family. Chloe’s family. I’m just here to help you fulfill your dreams of fatherhood, although you parent Ben enough I don’t how much time you’ll have for her.”

“Don’t say-”

Lorelei didn’t mean a word she said, but the words poured out of her uncontrollably. “He’s your brother, I’m just some bitch you came inside.”

“Lore!” Will strode over to where she was, gently turning her to take a look at him, finding tears in her eyes as she gazed up. “Don’t you ever talk about yourself like that. Ever. You understand me? Do you really think when we had sex, it meant nothing to me? Lorelei Giang, I have wanted you since the day I met you, you know how disappointed I was when Ben said you had a boyfriend? Every time, every fucking time I ran into you, I ran those scenes through my head for hours, trying to memorize all the details because that is all I thought I’d have.” His face is earnest, pleading, begging her to understand what she meant to him. “What we shared that night was something beautiful, Lorelei, and out of it came our daughter, out of it came our friendship. Our friendship is something I value, but Lore, you’re crazy if you think that’s all I want.”

She was unsure how to take his words, standing there with his hand on her shoulder still. She took a step back, letting his hand drop. “What do you want, William?”

He sighed, exasperated. “I want you, Lorelei, why is that so hard for you to understand?”

“I have no doubt you want me,” She emphasized, crossing her arms and putting that symbolic barrier up. “That’s not the point. You think I don’t want you? You think that I haven’t gotten myself off to the memory of that night 100 times? You think I could watch you take care of Rosie, watch how you love your friends, see you smile and laugh and protect me and look so goddamn tall doing it and NOT fall in love with you?”

Her words fell heavy in the air, tension and frustration and love and longing all swirling around, suffocating the room.

“You love me?” Will asked, quiet and hesitant.

Lorelei threw up her hands. “Of course I do, William! Have you any idea what it's like to live with you every day and see the kind of man you are and not fucking suck your dick about it?” 

Will blinked in confusion for a moment before his brain caught up. “They whyyyy aren’t we together?”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

Will watched her for a moment, as beautiful as ever in her red dress, even though most of her make up was off. Perfection. 

“Lore… I know you’ve been hurt real bad. I know your dads, Tyler, all the men in your life have failed you none fucking stop, but-”

“But what? You’re different? You’d be better? You’d never kick me out or hit me r call me a whore-”

“YES!”

“Do you have any idea the amount of men I’ve slept with, Will?”

“I don’t care, I really don’t.”

She threw up her hands. “I’m 34, only a few relationships in my life, several men  per year, several per month sometimes-”

Gentle, Will stepped up, gathering both of her hands into his. When she didn’t pull away, he brought them to his lips, kissing the knuckles as he looked down at her. After pause, he spoke quietly. “Why are you telling me this.”

The tears were hot down her face, streaming down heavily. Lorelei looked up at Will, his kind eyes willing and open. It all came out. “Because you don’t love me, men don’t love me. They want me. They want to fuck me, and that’s fine, I like to fuck but they always think they can change me. Men, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but especially white men and military men,” Will was both. “See asian women a certain way. They think we’re submissive, quiet, virginial. You ever watch 90-Day Fiance? The amount of men that seek out women from Asia, like the Philpines, they always say creepy as shit about what they want in a woman, and they are sorely fucking dissapointed when they realiz we are real fucking people not a fuck doll that cooks for you!”

Still holding her hands, bringing them to this chest, he made sure the grip wasn’t tight. He didn’t want her to feel trapped, like he’d hold her there. He’d never force her to do anything or stay anywhere she did not want. “Princess, do you think I think that way? Do you think I don’t see you as a person?” He tried not to sound offended, like it was a personal attack. While he knew he wasn’t the sort of man she was describing, and he hoped she didn’t see him that way, he knew that she lived an experience he would never fully understand. The best he could do was listen, and not be on the defense.

Lorelei shook her head, “No, I don’t think you are… it’s just… I’m Vietnamese, Will. Do you have any idea what happened to Vietnamese woman when American soldiers came?”

Will could feel his skin grow hot. He did know, he knows that sexual abuse of women in general by military men but especially the native women in foreign wars was a massive fucking problem, and he knew the Vietnam war was some of the worst out there. He knew that that sort of generational trauma would not just go away by him being nice.

“I’m not saying you’re like that-”

“I get it.” Will reassured. “I understand, I’ve heard and delt with men in my tropes that talked about wanting to get stationed in South Korea or other Asian bases. And for what it’s worth, which I know isn’t a lot, I’m really fucking sorry you have felt this way you’re whole life.” It all made sense. Her being sexualized her whole life, the push to be submissive, which is a word Will would never describe her as, nor would she want to. The abuse from her step-dad, abandonment from her bio dad… it was a miracle that she came out of it all as well adjusted as she was. Will was so fucking proud of her.

Lorelei sniffles, calming down more in Will’s firm touch. “It’s not just that. My mom and step-dad didn’t help, always making me feel like my worth was tied to my looks when I have so much more to offer.”

“You do, you are so fucking wonderful, Lorelei.” He let go of her hands and for a moment she lamented the loss, but was quickly comforted by a strong, bear hug, ever-careful of the swell of her stomach. “I understand why you’re hesitant to get back in a relationship. I understand if you don’t want to be with me, now or ever.” Will took her face in his hands, guiding her to look up at him. Her he loved her dark eyes, the way her face was full as she gained weight, he loved her thick, strong hair and those creases between her eyebrows and on her forehead from frowning. He loved her. “But I swear to you, Lorelei, I love you exactly as you are. I don’t need nor want whatever version other men have tried to force you into, I don’t love you because you are the mother of my children, I don’t want you to look or act any way other than yourself. I love you in all your badass, take-no-shit, sweet-as-pie, caretaking, punch-your-stupid-ex-until-he-lost-a-tooth” Lore giggled at that, making Will smile. “Pin-up model, strong-as-hell, James-Dean-loving, sexy-as-shit madness.”

He kissed her forehead. He kissed her nose.

Lorelei pulled on his tie and to her lips, kissing him hard, passionate and wet.

Their first kiss.

Will returned it with no hesitation, opening his mouth to her and wrapping her up in his strong grasp. He’s intoxicating, swallowing up her insecurities, her fears, her tongue, all in a desperate pursuit for Will to make her feel like she’s worthy, like she’s safe. Will explores every inch of her mouth, the chip in the the moller from her brother putting pebbles in her food, the snaggled canine and her uneven front teeth from her never wearing her retainer since the week she got her braces off. The faint taste of red lipstick.

He tries to pull away, but is still desperate to be close that Will keeps his lips pressed against hers.  “What does this mean?” He pants, “for us?”

“It’s means I wanna fuck you.” She pulls him close by his belt, feeling a hardening bulge against her swollen belly.

“Lorelei.”  His breath was hot against her skin, voice strained like it was taking everything in him not to fuck her into the mattress right then and there.

“It means…” She goes for his belt buckle, desparate and needy and so goddamn horny for him, having fuck no one but a vibrator in months, and that was getting more and more difficult. “That I want to be with you, Will, if you’ll be patient.”

“I will.” The belt slide off.

Next, she went for the maroon sports coat. “And you’ll call me out when I’m being a brat.”

She felt him smirk against her before going back to kissing, and undoing the corset top with a little tug. “I always do.”

Her touch slowed, just a bit as Lorelei’s voice dropped an octave. More gentle. “And will you let me take care of you, so you don’t gotta carry everything on your shoulders?”

His touch slowed in time with hers, the kisses less frantic, less consuming. Taking their time. “Y-” Will stops, almost like he’s hesitating in the promise. He swallows thickly. “yes…” He slowly unlaced the dress, fingers warm against her skin.

Lorelei begins unbuttoning his shirt, but stops when she remembers. Shirt stays on. “Sorry” She whispers, and begins to rebutton what she did, resting her forehead on the peak of his chest still exposed. “Sorry…”

Will’s hands stopped her fingers. She looked up at him. Will wanted her, he wanted her fully and she’d shown him so many harsh parts of herself… but this was something he needed time for. It had taken a long time before he was comfortable with Emily seeing this.

“Just… don’t touch my back, okay?” A compromise. A start.

“Okay.” Lorelei nodded and whispered, continuing to unbutton. “You can take off my dress.” She knew he’d want permission before making a move like that. Shaking fingers on her shoulders, sliding down her arms and over the floral tattoo on the upper half. He pushes the loose dress down gently. She takes on her black panties. Then, her body is exposed fully to him. Although they’d been nearly naked together before, this felt new/ Much more vulnerable. 

“Fucking beautiful.”

Looking in the mirror the last few months, she didn’t feel beautiful. She was growing accustomed with how her body was changing, she was bring a life into the world, for fucks sake. Still, she didn’t feel beautiful. Right now, with Will. She felt fucking sexy.

She went back to unbuttoning him, with every few inches of skin exposed, Lorelei planted kisses on his chest, never breaking contact with his baby blues. Lower, lower still she sunk down as she kissed him, down to the ever so slight swell of a belly. Hitting the gym couldn’t stop the fact he was nearly forty,, and they’d be snacking pretty heavily the last few months. She loved every inch. As she kissed down his happy trail, sinking to her knees and unbuttoning his pants, Will tried to insist she didn’t have too. Yeah, she knew that. But her mouth was fucking watering for it.

It happened slow, it HAD TOO, he was so fucking huge she had to take her time. And Frankie was supposed to be BIGGER? Jesus fucking Christ. As Lorelei swallowed him, lower and lower down his shaft each time, she felt him fully. The hair on his thighs as she licked the salt pre-cum off his tip. The scar, clearly a bullet wound, on his abdomen as she sucked on his balls. Her painted red nails digging into the meat of his ass as she gagged around him, attempting to bury her face in his blonde hairs, but not quite getting there.

It was only when she gagged hard that Will pulled Lorelei off him, slightly in awe as the strong of spit connected from her mouth to his cock. “C’mon, lemme feel you.”

“But I wanna take you all the-”

His large, pale hand found her golden brown face. “We’ll have plenty of time for that later, princess.”

Princess.

She kissed him, hard and passionate and all consuming as she pushed his naked, perfect body to the bed, making him sit. “Need you inside me.”

“Baby, let me open you up first-”

“William Miller.” She took the moment to be taller than him, admittedly still not by much. “I have wanted to fuck you so goddamn bad since the second your dick pulled out of me, and I opened myself up this morning on a massive pink fucking dildo because I am incomprehensibly horny every goddamn day.” Lorelei pinched his cheeks, dark eyes intense. “If you’re not inside me soon, I will literally cry so goddamn hard you have no idea.”

After a beat, Will burst out into bellowing laughter that Lorelei mirrored in giggles, squealing when he picked her up and placed her to straddle over his body. Loreilei knelt on the bed, excitement thrilling her, filling her with electricity that she couldn’t doubt for a second Will was feeling as he smiled up at her. “You know…” She spoke softly, cardingehr fingers through his blonde hair. “Our first time was special…”

“I know.” He matched her soft tone, caressing over her stomach. He loved Lorelei and Chloe with everything in him. “I know…”

“But this?” A kiss on the forehead, adoring the way his fingers squeezed her hips. “This feels like the first time. Our first real time…”

“I know exactly what you mean…” His voice was nothing short of wonder.

Eyes shut tight, Lorelei lined herself up with Will’s cock, gripping his shoulders and resisting the urge to hold onto his back. He was so much, was he always this much? She was definitely swollen, feeling much more sensitive as she slowly took him. Will didn’t pull her down like many men before, instead she realized he was holding her up with his hands under her ass, allowing her to go at her own pace. When she finally took all of him inside her, sighing in relief as she was spread across him.

“Let’s just stay like this for a minute.” William whispered in her ear, playing with her hair. He must have known how overwhelming it felt for her.

She nodded, eyes still closed tight, holding onto him. She felt full, so goddamn full it was unreel, her walls pulsing around him and struggling to adjust.

“I’m gonna touch you, beautiful girl, okay? Gonna make it easier.” While one hand never left her hair, Will’s right hand went between her legs, playing with her clit. Small circles, playing with the pressure until he heard her whimper. “Ah, just like that?” He continued at the pace she seemed to like, wet slick coking his fingertips. It didn’t take long for a small orgasm to take her over, just enough to allow her to relax and provide extra natural lubrication.

Still Will didn’t pressure her to move. Lorelei stayed like that, clinging to him like her rock in the ocean as her orgasm subsided. It was then she opened her eyes. In there frenzy, neither of them had taken note of the mirror right above their headboard. A well-placed mirror was nothing new to Lorelei, but this was not that scenario. She wasn’t admiring hers or a partner's body, she wasn’t using the scene as porn… she was looking at Will’s back.

All across it were lacerations. Broad or small, mangling his skin up and down his back. Whippings if she had to guess. And from his dad was her first guess. He said he was above, he said he hit them… she never could have imagined it was anything like this. She wondered how many of these lashings he’d taken for Benny. 

Slowly, she began moving, up and down on him, tears in her eyes. She couldn’t protect him as a child. She couldn’t protect him as a teen. She wasn’t there to hold him or nurse him back to health. But she’d be there from now on, taking care of him and his racing mind and their precious child.

With his hands on her waist, he aided her as she rode him. Up and down, he filled Lorelei up over and over again, turning her into a moaning mess as he gazed up at her in adoration. She was his everything. His two girls, in his arms at this moment.

“I love you, Will, I fucking love you.” She felt buried in him, just as he buried himself into her cunt, everything that surrounded her was William. Nothing mattered but William. She didn’t need to wonder why her dad left, because Will wouldn’t leave. She didn’t need to wonder why Tyler hit her, because Will would rather die. She didn’t need to wonder why she wasn’t enough for her family because she was enough for him.

“I love you, Lorelei, I love you so goddamn much and I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry this whole time I made you think I didn’t.” His eyes shone with tears, just as hers did. Their faces came crashing together, faces ever-so-slightly wet with a mix of soft tears.

Together, they orgasmed in unison. 

Together.

Will fell backwards on the bed, taking Lorelei with him in his arms. He pulled out carefully, so, so carefully, and even still she whimpered a bit. Will kissed her forehead with an apology, then went to get some things to clean her up. When he walked back, naked and broad, a sun god in all his glory, his stride stuttered a bit at he took note of the mirror.

He didn’t say anything at first. William cleaned between her legs, telling her how good she did, how pretty she was, how much he loved her. Then, after putting her in his sweats and t shirt and pulling pants on himself, Will nudged her exhausted body until her head rested on his lap. There, he did as much of her face routine as he could without a sink. He wiped up all her make-up, then used cotton pads to apply toner. Finally, he took out a serum she brought and her jade roller, dripping it on her face and carefully rolling it.

“So, I assume you saw my back then?”

“Yeah.” Lorelei whispered. “We don’t gotta talk about it.” She sounded sleepy, Will’s touch oh-so soothing. The jade roller felt nice. “I won’t touch your back or anything until you’re ready. Even if that’s never.”

William smiled at her, Lorelei’s loose curls falling all around his lap. “Thank you, princess. I’ll tell you about it, I swear. Just not now.”

“Okay.” Drifting off, she had enough energy to reach up and touch Williams face. “Baby?”

“Hm?” He asked, eyes steady on his work. He didn’t wanna miss any parts, but he didn't want it in her eyes or mouth.

“What happened with Ben?”

Will sighed, putting down the jade roller. He thought back to the moment he left Lorelei. It was stupid, he knew. Not a lot should be able to pull him away from dancing with the love of his life. But when he saw Ben, knuckles bright red and face puffy, he knew the signs. There was no denying it, and he knew it was Alice’s fault, with the comments she’d been making on his eating.

“He’s throwing up again.”

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MAAAAAN THIS IS THE MOST LONGEST SMUT IVE WRITTEN IN A WHILE

I hope this all seemed to flow naturally. I was trying to hit all the points I wanted to ;-;

ANYWAY get ready to dread the next chapter lolololololol

Please let me know how you felt about them getting together <3

@pimosworld @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @whatthefishh @missdictatorme @milkymoon2483 @poeedameronn @itspdameronthings @miraclesabound @babymills16 @rayslittlekitten @kirsteng42

[eminems-skittles]

cosplays and crushes [penelope garcia x reader]

penelope garcia x fem!reader warnings: none word count: 2.3k

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

     The hot San Diego sun had started to set on the line full of costume-clad convention goers. Penelope and Spencer, decked out in their Doctor Who and Rose Tyler cosplays, had been camped out since 4 in the afternoon. They just so happened to be in San Diego for a case when Rossi surprised the two nerds with tickets to Comic Con. Hotch had already agreed to giving them the weekend off in order to attend the event, saying they deserved the break and to be around people who understand what they're talking about. After some pushback from Spencer and Penelope, not because they didn't want to go but because they didn't want to be out of state if there was an emergency, they gladly accepted the tickets. The rest of the team, having been aware of the surprise, had already booked hotel rooms at a fancy hotel in San Diego as well. They had all decided that it was time for a well deserved break from their demanding jobs.

   Currently, Spencer and Penelope were in line for the Doctor Who panel. They were surrounded by people who shared their love of the show. While everyone there were all dressed in cosplays and costumes, one specific person caught Penelope's eye. Well, technically, she noticed the girl as soon as they arrived in line. This particular girl had (Y/H/C) and was dressed as (Y/F/C). She was there, apparently by herself. After two hours of constant chatting with Spencer about what they are looking forward too, their theories of previous cases, and Penelope's not so secretive constant checking to see if maybe the beautiful stranger's friends had finally showed up, Penelope had finally gathered the courage to introduce herself to the lonely girl. Spencer, being the expert profiler he is, had already picked up on Garcia's growing curiosity about the lonesome girl.

   Spencer leaned close to Penelope, to ensure that the girl wouldn't hear him, and whispered, "Just talk to her Pen. She won't bite."

   "Aw but I like it when they bite," Penelope whined jokingly, winking at the now blushing Spencer. She pinched his cheek, "Oh ease up, kiddo. I'm kidding. I would talk to her but what if she shoots me down? She is way out of my league. Besides, what am I supposed to say?"

   "Pen, believe me, she is not out of your league. She's here isn't she? You two are in the same league. Just talk to her." Spencer tried to convince her. If the girl they were talking about wasn't so close, Spencer might have also mentioned that he noticed the girl looking at Penelope also. But for now, he'd keep that too himself.

   Penelope took a deep breath, making eye contact with Spencer, who gave her a small reassuring small, before turning around to face the girl. She waved before introducing herself, "Uh, hi! My name is Penelope and this is my friend Spencer! I really like your costume! (Y/F/C) is one of my favorites!"

   "Oh hi!" she waved at spencer slightly before directing her attention back to Penelope. "My name is Y/N! Thank you so much! It took forever to make. I like yours too! Where are you from?"

   "We're from Virginia, we were out here for work and one of our co-workers surprised us with tickets. How about you? Where are you from?"

   "Oh that's awesome! I'm actually from Virginia also! How funny! I live in Richmond for work but when I'm not working I live in (Y/H/T)." Y/N said, her eyes lighting up when she heard that the pretty girl in front of her lived in the same state as her. "If it's not too much to ask, where do you guys live? I'm not a stalker I swear." She added quickly.

   Spencer and Penelope shared an amused look, before laughing slightly.

   "We live in Quantico. Spence and I work for the FBI." Penelope hoped it was okay that she told this stranger that she was an FBI agent. However, Spencer didn't stop her so she assumed it was okay. "What do you do for work?"

    "Oh well I am an elementary school teacher so when school is session, I live in Richmond but during summer I go back home to help out my family. It's not the best situation but I make it work," She laughed slightly. Penelope decided then and there that she loved Y/N's laugh. "Anyway, what do y'all do for the FBI, that is if you're allowed to say."

   "Well I am a tech analyst for the Behavioral Analyst Unit, or the BAU as we call it. So I basically research suspects, victims, open cases, stuff like that and send it to the team." Penelope explains, being careful not to spill too much about her job.

   "And I'm a profiler for the BAU. So while Penelope is at the office, the other agents and I are in the field, examining crime scenes and catching serial killers and bad guys," Spencer explained.

   "Wow, you guys have such cool and important jobs." Y/N said.

   "Yeah, I guess we do," Penelope said, smiling brightly at Y/N. "So are you here by yourself?"

   "Unfortunately. My girlfriend was supposed to come but uh she broke up with me two weeks ago and it was too late to refund the tickets. I needed time away from there anyway" Y/N looked sad as she explained. Penelope looked at Spencer, her eyes silently pleading with him. Spencer looked at Y/N, then at Penelope, before slightly nodding his head.

   "Oh no! I'm so sorry, hon! If you'd like, you can stick with Spencer and I. We're staying at the main hotel with our coworkers. You are more than welcome to join us!" Penelope said, silently cursing herself for sounding so eager. How she already managed to have feelings for this girl so fast was beyond her. Normally, it took her a few days before developing feelings for someone. Yet here she was, having the most mundane conversation with this random girl.

    Thoughts started zooming around in Penelope's brain. Surely it has to be fate that they were both here. Penelope never planned on going to Comic Con until a few days ago. She didn't even plan on going to this panel because she had thought they missed it. And yet, here she was, talking with the prettiest girl she had ever seen. She almost couldn't form proper sentences. Y/N's smile seemed to cause her brain to short-circuit.

    "Are you sure? I don't want to impose. This is your guys vacation." Y/N hesitantly said.

     "It's fine, really, Y/N. It would be fun. Comic Con isn't a place to be alone at." Spencer cut in, a small smile stretching across his face. This was the first time he had seen Penelope act like this in front of a girl, and with everything that Penelope did for him and the team, he figured it was time he did something for her.

    Y/N contemplated for a second. A very small part of her was saying no, because she had just met these people. But then she reasoned that they are FBI agents so they wouldn't hurt her. She also already had started developing a small crush on Penelope. She knew she shouldn't of been catching feelings so quickly. It had only been two weeks since her ex had broken up with up her. However, in this moment, Y/N could care less. If her ex didn't want to be with her anymore, that was no longer her problem. She couldn't spend the rest of her life being sad about someone who did not care about her anymore.

     "If you're sure about this, then of course! You guys seem really fun and I'd love to hangout!" Y/N agreed.

    Penelope and Y/N shared a smile, getting momentarily lost in each others eyes. They stayed like that until Spencer nudged Penelope with his elbow. Once they were broken out of their trance, Penelope and Y/N had realized that the line had finally started moving. Once they got into the panel, Y/N, Penelope, and Spencer sat down as close to the front as possible. Throughout the panel, Y/N and Penelope silently fangirled as Spencer watched intently, no doubt trying to memorize everything that everyone said. Not that he had to try.

     At the end of the panel, around 9:00 at night, the trio was trying to figure out where to go for dinner. Spencer, who was eager to tell Derek about Penelope's new love interest, excused himself to the hotel for the night, saying he was too tired and to go out without him.

    "Let's go change into normal clothes and meet up in 15 minutes? We can go to the hotel bar or go to a restaurant in town?" Y/N asked, secretly hoping this dinner would turn into a date. The day she had spent with Penelope was one of the best days she had had in a long time. Even when she was with her ex-girlfriend. Penelope agreed before they headed to their respective rooms to change into clothes for the evening.

   After they got ready, they met in the hotel lobby and decided on staying at the hotel restaurant and bar. Penelope decided against going into town because of what she sees everyday in her line of work. Y/N did not mind, she just wanted to spend time with Penelope.

   The two had ended up getting kicked out of the hotel bar, having stayed until 2 in the morning. They had decided to make their way to the pool to just sit and talk.

   "Thank you for the wonderful night, Penny," Y/N said, smiling at the slightly taller girl. Y/N was slightly tipsy, leaning her head against Penelope's shoulder.

   "You know, I think you're one of the first people to call me Penny, doll face," She said giggling a bit harder than she should have. "You're welcome, sweetcheeks. I had an amazing time tonight also."

   Little did the two girls know, the BAU team (with the exception of Hotch, who insisted that he had better things to do than spy on Penelope's first date) were hiding along the row of chairs behind them to get a good look at the scene unfolding in front of them.

  Y/N and Penelope stared at each other for a second before a voice shouted, "JUST KISS ALREADY!" The two of them jumped about five feet in the air before looking back to see JJ and Emily pulling Spencer back to the ground to hide him from the two.

  "Might as well give the people what they want," Penelope said, wiggling her eyebrows. Y/N smiled for what felt like the millionth time that day, before nodding her head.

  The two leaned forward, pausing for a second to look each other in the eyes, before leaning in all the way. Penelope brought her hands up to Y/N's face, one on her cheek, the other on the back of her neck. Y/N put both of her hands on Penelope's cheeks. They stayed like that for a few moments, the soft kiss seemingly having lasted longer than a few seconds. They pulled apart, catching their breaths.

   "Wow," Y/N breathed out. A smile and blush had forced their way onto her face, as she looked at Penelope.

   "Wow," Penelope repeated, staring into Y/N's eyes.

   "I SHIP!" Spencer shouted from where he, Derek, Emily, JJ, and Rossi were supposed to be hiding. Penelope broke her stare from Y/N, turning to face her not so secretive friends.

   "Ok, who let him drink tonight?" Penelope shout back to her friends.

   "You know, for FBI agents, your friends aren't all that sneaky." Y/N said, smiling slightly before kissing Penelope again. The group of FBI agents all hooted and hollered jokingly at Penelope and Y/N.

    "Alright you idiots, lets all get to bed before we anger Garcia enough to make her hack all of our records," Rossi said to the team, trying to get them to leave. He was met with a few groans and 'okay dad's, but everyone got up and followed him out of the pool area. As soon as they were sure they were by themselves, they pulled apart from the kiss.

   "I know we just met and you're fresh out of a relationship, but Y/N, I uh I really like you. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to be with you. I can wait as long as you-" she was interrupted by yet another small kiss.

   "Penny, I like you a lot too. And I want to be with you too. But it's going to take a bit of time before I get into another relationship." Y/N explained.

   "Of course, take all the time you need, sweetie," Penelope said. The two girls cuddled up next to each other for a few minutes before deciding to call it a night. Penelope walked Y/N to her hotel room with promises of an early breakfast the next day.

  "Goodnight Y/N," Penelope said, before kissing Y/N's cheek.

  "Goodnight Penny," Y/N said, kissing Penelope's cheek as well. She unlocked her door and stepped instead, saying goodnight one final time before watching Penelope walk back down the hall to the elevator. Before she got into the elevator, Penelope waved back at Y/N before dramatically blowing a kiss down the hall. Y/N playfully got the kiss and placed her hand on her cheek, waiting for the elevator doors to close, before making her way into her own room. She was unable to stop smiling the whole time she got ready for bed. This was the best day ever.

[minaslittleone]

Fission & Fusion (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: How did the refined and proper Wilhemina Venable end up working for two coked-up tech bros out of the back of a van?

An origin story of sorts, dedicated to the amazing @lucyintheskywithxanax who has developed such a beautiful and nuanced depiction of Mina. This was inspired by her incredible story “And I failed to climb the mountain”.

Word count: ~2500

Professor Thompson was not surprised that she had to go searching for Wilhemina the following evening. Part of her had hoped that the young woman would have been waiting for her, a sign that she was allowing herself to accept the genuine support proferred to her. That was not to be. It was only natural, she supposed, as she made her way through the concrete wasteland that served as the hotel's parking lot, that after a lifetime of being belittled and dismissed, of being told she was nothing but a burden, that Wilhemina would find it difficult to accept help. To even believe that the offer of help was genuine.

The older woman shook her head as she raised her her hand to knock on the door indicated by the disinterested girl working reception. The world, and people, really could be so cruel.

When her initial knock went unanswered, she tried again slightly louder this time. Again she was greeted by only silence.

"Wilhemina." she called out, as she knocked for a third time. "Wilhemina, it's Professor Thompson. Can you let me in dear?"

In the beat of silence that followed, she could feel Wilhemina's indecision - her pride balking at the idea of reaching out to accept the tender care that her heart so dearly yearned for. For now, pride relented.

There was a jangle of keys as nervous fingers fought against the lock and deadbolt. The door eased open a crack to reveal Wilhemina, shoulders curled in on themselves, head bowed, face obscured by a curtain of red hair and supporting a significant portion of her weight on her cane. Her form fitting dress from the previous day had been replaced by black leggings and a loose fitting faun jumper which dwarfed her slender frame, sleeves extending well past her wrists where her fingers toyed anxiously with the cuffs. As the older woman eased the door slightly further ajar she couldn't miss the way Wilhemina flinched, obviously uncomfortable with any kind of physical proximity.

"Wilhemina?" the older woman coaxed. Glassy brown eyes peaked from beneath swollen lids, tentatively meeting her gaze. As she did her long hair shifted just enough to reveal the array of grazes decorating her right cheek and temple, chronicalling the previous night's events like braille across her skin. Wilhemina fought against the instinct the pull away as the older woman gently lifted her hair to inspect the damage. And as much as she hated allowing anyone to bear witness to her weakness she couldn't help but wonder when she had last been touched with such tenderness.

And maybe that was what gave her the courage to recount the events of the night before, those soft, caring touches that spoke more than words ever could, that whispered insistently that she deserved so much more. From the grinding weight against her fingers to the sickening crunch of her skull on the concrete, the smell of stale alcohol and tobacco, and the taste of dispair as calloused fingers rifled through her book bag and located the money that was supposed to be her lifeline. And more than all of that, the shame of laying sprawled out on the concrete unable to move.

Eventually the sound of the steal capped boots had disappeared into the distance, apparently deciding she wasn't worth any further humiliation. You're too ugly even for that, her mother's voice cooed. Slowly, she had managed to lever herself from the ground, bracing herself between her cane and the wall. Her trembling fingers had finally managed to overcome the lock but all too late. She stumbled across the threshold, collapsing onto the bed, curling in on herself in a futile attempt to prevent any further pain.

Professor Thompson's fingers were back at her cheek, tenderly chronically the array of scrapes and bruises that were beginning to blossom across her pale skin. How hard had she hit her head? Did she lose consciousness? Does it hurt if I push here? Any blurred or double vision? Any other injuries? Her hands? Her knees? Her back? No. All just bruised, like her ego, and her heart.

Wilhemina remained fascinated by the cuffs of her sweater throughout Professor Thompson's assessment, fingers picking at small imperfections in the fabric. By the time she raised her eyes the older woman was already moving busily around the room collecting her meagre possessions into her discarded book bag. "Have I missed anything dear?" Wilhemina could only shake her head dumbly in response though her confusion must have permeated her features for Professor Thompson quickly added "If you think for one moment I am letting you stay here on your own Wilhemina, after what happened, you are very, very mistaken".

The older woman slung the sum total of Wilhemina's possessions easily over her shoulder, before extending her hands to the younger woman to help her to her feet. And for once Wilhemina felt no pity or judgement in the gesture, only genuine care.

It felt good to let go for a moment, she thought, as she allowed herself to be escorted to the older woman's car. To hand over the reins, even if momentarily, to someone who genuinely had her best interests at heart. She had always been independent, self-sufficient, mature; garnering praise from countless adults for how grown up she was ever since she was tiny. There had been other words too - bossy, control freak, frigid bitch - a need for order and precision in the small parts of her life that she could control. But she was so tired after trying to hold it all together on her own for so long. Because in reality she wasn't in control at all.

Wilhemina jumped as the driver's side door opened, having not really registered that Professor Thompson had disappeared, let alone returned. The older woman shot her a sympathetic glance in apology for having startled her before starting the car and pulling out of that god damn parking lot.

Not long after she found herself seated at her professor's kitchen table, a warm mug of sweetened tea once again pushed into her hands whilst the older woman cooked. She managed to only feel slightly guilty about that. The room reminded her a lot of the woman herself, no frills and practical but with an undeniable warmth, full of mismatched crockery rather than complete sets, as if each piece had been hand picked for its bawdy colour or intricate pattern. Like her office, Professor Thompson's home seemed a little worn around the edges in the best of ways, it spoke of memories and a life well lived. From the rings on the wooden table from endless hours of conversation over tea, to the dings in the plaster from exhuberant grandchildren the house could not be further from the modernist sterility Wilhemina had become accustomed to.

The next thing she knew a steaming bowl of stew was being placed in front of her and the older woman was joining her at the table. "I hope you don't mind, dear, I know it's nothing very fancy" the older woman added as Wilhemina stared fixatedly at the bowl in front of her. Don't be so rude you ungrateful idiot. "No of course not, it's smells wonderful, it's just that I don't think anyone has ever cooked anything for me before. Thank you."

The older woman paused at that, spoon left resting against the side of her bowl. "Surely your mother did, at least?" Wilhemina scoffed at that, the very idea of Fleur Venable undertaking a task a menial as cooking was almost amusing. "No, my mother never had much interest in cooking, especially when she could pay someone to do it for her." A wry smile passed over the older woman's face "Maybe I should have listened when everyone told me to go into private practice rather than academia, it certainly seems to have worked out well enough for your father. Though I don't think I would have found much contentment in commercial law, I don't think I would have been particularly fond of spending my professional life making rich people richer."

"I don't think it brought my father much contentment either, though that might have been living with my mother" Wilhemina muttered, drawing unapologetic laughter from the older woman. After that the meal was finished in comfortable silence.

Wilhemina was about offer to help with clearing the table when something fuzzy brushed against her leg drawing an embarrassing squeak from her, which she quickly clamped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to muffle. "Oh it's alright, my dear, it's just Miko. Hello my sweet boy" the older woman cooed to the grey tabby cat rubbing affectionately at her ankles. "Oh I know sweetheart, I missed you too."

Miko, seemingly satisfied that he had greeted his mistress appropriately, took that moment to return his attention to Wilhemina, who's anxious gaze flicked between the cat and his owner. "Oh I'm sorry my dear, you're not allergic are you?" the older woman asked in response to Wilhemina's obvious apprehension. "No, I'm just not very good with animals" Wilhemina replied as Miko began sniffing at her ankles.

"He likes it if you scratch behind his ears" the older woman suggested.

So, slowly, Wilhemina allowed her right hand to unfurl from it's safe home in her lap downwards towards the inquisitive feline, or at least as far as her spine would allow. Miko craned his neck upwards to bridge the gap, first sniffing at her fingers before quickly beginning to nuzzle against them. Hesitantly Wilhemina began to trail her nails along the cats scalp, concentrating her ministrations behind his ears as his owner had suggested. She was rewarded by purrs of contentment, as Miko nuzzled into her hand with increased vigour. She couldn't help but smile at that.

Soon after Miko raised his front paws onto the bottom railing of the chair in an effort to get closer to Wilhemina, and began nuzzling into her thigh in earnest.

"What is he doing?"

"Oh don't worry, dear" the older woman replied. "He's just saying that he likes you. Well I suppose to be more correct he's transferring his scent onto to you to claim you as his, just in case any other cats get any ideas."

"I don't think anyone has ever claimed me as theirs before" Wilhemina whispered, fingers still threading tenderly through Miko's fur.

"Well Miko certainly has and so have I" the older woman replied, "and we both happen to have excellent taste."

Wilhemina could only reply with a small, trembling smile.

"Now come on dear, you've had quite an eventful few days and I doubt you slept much last night"

Wilhemina nodded and allowed herself to be escorted up the stairs towards the guest room, Miko following closely on her heals.

The room which Professor Thompson showed her to was already bathed in warm light from the bedside lamp and her book bag had been placed upon the quilt covered bed.

"Now the bathroom is just across the hall, dear, and I've put out fresh towels for you. If you need anything during the night my room is just down the hall, ok?"

"I'll be ok, but thank you" Wilhemina offered the older woman a shy smile.

Professor Thompson made to leave for the night before turning back unable to stop herself. "Forgive me asking dear, but haven't you heard from your parents? Surely they must be worried where you are?"

Wilhemina did not share her certainty. "I haven't checked my phone." Perhaps childishly she didn't want to check, because until she did she could cling onto the slim hope that maybe her parents did want to know where she was.

"You should check, my dear" the older woman coaxed. "I'll give you some privacy, but I'll be downstairs if you need me"

"Actually" Wilhemina blurted before the courage abandoned her, "would you stay?"

Professor Thompson took a seat on the bed beside her as she rifled through her book bag for her cell phone. One missed call. She almost couldn't believe it when her father's cell phone number blinked back at her on the LCD screen. With trembling fingers she retrieved the voicemail.

"Wilhemina, I understand that your mother can be difficult but surely all this fuss isn't necessary. If this was about making a point, you've made it, you can stop with this childish fit and the two of you can discuss this like adults. Honestly Wilhemina, you know I don't have time for this right now, the McMahon case goes to trial in less than a week, I have better things to be doing with my time than be refereeing some petty squabble between you and your mother. Just sorted it out."

Professor Thompson killed the voicemail halfway through the pre-recorded list of options, they certainly didn't want to listen to the message again.

"I'm so sorry, dear, I shouldn't have pushed you to check."

Wilhemina shrugged. "If I'm honest with myself, I didn't really expect anything different. I just hoped that maybe, I don't know..." she sighed. She did know, she had hoped that for once her parents would show ounce of love and affection, or even just anything more than apathy. Anything to indicate she was more than a burden or the fulfillment of a tickbox in the game of life.

"You would have thought that by now I would have stopped getting my hopes up" Wilhemina muttered, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks.

"Never" the older woman asserted. "You get your hopes up because you care and you have such a capacity for love, which makes you so much more than either of them will ever be."

She reached up tenderly to wipe the tears from the younger woman's cheeks, careful to avoid to avoid the dark purple bruising now staining her right cheek.

"Besides, their loss is my gain and you have a place here for as long as you need it"

[btssmutficslovingfan01]

Seducing Suga - Part 1

⮱ Summary: You were happy to find out that Yoongi likes your rap skills, and your original plan involved him, but then the unexpected happened.

Read 🌼 PART 2 🌼 ⇗

⮱ Words: 3.2k

⮱ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

⮱ Genre: Smut, Angst

⮱ Warnings: Sexual Themes, Takes place in a no-corona world, Reader is an interviewer, it goes downhill after the first half

Happy Belated Yoongi day!

                                  ________________________

“So can you rap something for us real quick?” With Namjoon’s question taking you by surprise, you look at your producer to make sure it is okay to proceed. You get a thumbs up, smiling at the boys as they watch with eager eyes. You kept your eyes trained on Namjoon, though, as you started the infamous Cypher 4 verse from Yoongi.

“Back back to the basic Microphone check Call me baepsae hogeun ssenkae geurae rap gamee nan daeinbae doege haeihaejyeotdeon Rap mandeureul gaengsaenghaneun ge nae cheot beonjjaeui gyehoek hashtag Sucka betta run geurigo inseuta sok gang gang geugeon gyae insaengigo nae insaengeun mwo maeilmaeil Payday, paycheck sonmok wien rolex,” You decide to stop right there, waiting for the boys to something as they stare at you slack-jawed with their eyes wide open.

“That was…” Namjoon starts clapping, spurring the boys around him.

“Amazing!” Jimin exclaims as you bow, licking your lips as Yoongi blushes and evades your gaze. You’ve never seen him so wound up live before, the only Yoongi you know of is the one that keeps his face expressionless and blank during English interviews.

“I’m glad, thanks.” Your makeup crew rushes towards you afterwards, making sure your face is powdered up before sending you off with the members for pictures. It makes the studio look good, so you were naturally sent to stand in with the living legends.

“Hey, I enjoyed what you did there with Cypher.” He wanted to politely ask you back to his hotel room, but he wanted to do so without being suspicious. You were more than ready to die for Min Yoongi if it meant you would be able to get your name on a billboard somewhere in the world. Sucking his dick would be nothing compared to what you could do once you got into a position of high power.

“Thanks. You know, there’s this really fancy restaurant down the street, how about after this we head there together?” He tucks his hands into his pockets, biting his teeth as he checks his phone that just went off with a text.

“I’d love to, but we’re on a really tight schedule today. How about tomorrow, or the day after? We have a free day so maybe we can plan something then?” You agree and exchange phone numbers before parting ways. You couldn’t believe you were going out on a date with Suga from BTS in exactly two days!

You went a little crazy during your shopping spree and bought a couple of items for your date. You were expecting it to end well so you also bought some lingerie. Yet, you also felt like you were rushing things. You weren’t a sleazy person so you wanted to make him feel comfortable. Thinking about things now, you’ve never actually hooked up with someone on the first date.

Yoongi is no exception, no matter how famous he might be. You made your way to your reserved table, smirking as you see him out of the corner of your eye. He greets you as you lean forward, sipping some water out of a straw in the glass.

“Remember, I’m buying.” You’re willing to invest in him, to see what it is that the world is so obsessed about when it comes to Suga.

“I’ll keep that in mind. How’s the steak here?” You blink quickly, noticing that Yoongi’s english has improved drastically.

“Um, great.” He puts down the menu and you do the same, confused as to why he’s suddenly fluent. He seems to notice your look of bewilderment before speaking again,

“I am fluent in English, you know? Lived in New York for a short time as a kid.” You didn’t know that about him.

“Wow, that’s interesting.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of stuff I keep from ARMY. For example, I am a busy man, so I forget to eat and sleep often. I know it looks like I sleep a lot on bangtan bombs but it’s not true. I’ve gone days without sleeping properly before, you know?” That was another thing you didn’t know about Yoongi. Again, you’re not one of those sketchy reporters that would find whatever dirt they can on someone and reveal it. You know that the boys have their right to privacy, and you just want to do what you can to secure it. Especially if you’re gonna start this fling with Yoongi, or whatever.

“It’s insane that they expect you to even share that. I mean, it’s personal, right?” He chuckles at your enthusiasm about keeping his privacy in check and he appreciates it.

“It is personal. My job is supposed to be sharing my life, hobbies, side-hobbies, and friends with ARMY. My best friends are BTS, obviously, but otherwise if I bought anyone from outside I’d have to ask them to give permission to use their face on camera.”

“That is so interesting. Thanks for telling me about it, Yoongi.”

“I want us to trust each other. You’ve got this spark in your eye that’s different from anything I’ve seen. The rap game is about that passion.” You felt an unbelievable connection to him, not because he took the words out of your mouth, but just because he could relate to you.

“Yoongi, would you like to do this again sometime?” You ask at the end of your meal, dabbing a tissue over your mouth.

“I’d love to.” You were falling, despite having a goal in mind already. You didn’t want to exploit him anymore.

Your second date commenced the next day, while Yoongi was out with BTS you got permission from the manager and staff to be around the boys, and they were excited to meet you officially as the person Yoongi was “dating.” Even though it was only the second date, the boys treated you like family. They even made fun of Yoongi before shutting the whole thing down for a Bangtan bomb. You quietly stood beside Yoongi, as you made your way into the famous art museum.

You and Yoongi break off from the group, branching out in a way that makes things less suspicious. He pulls you close to him, as a camera clicks away at the boys and the last thing he wanted was to be discovered. You look up at him, with those twinkling eyes that he adores, and he’s lost in your lips. You shared your first kiss on the second date, going at your own pace.

When it was time for Yoongi to leave, you exchanged phone numbers and said goodbye. He never invited you to his room in the end because he saw more in you, than just a one night stand. The sudden connection, how you get along so well, it correlates with how much you mean to him. His life suddenly had a new meaning; he wanted to pursue you as well.

As if by magic, you get a job offer in Korea, a studio close to Bighit HQ. You were so excited that you video chatted with Yoongi. When he picked up, you could see that he was in the Rkive, and Namjoon was sitting next to him, staring at a computer screen.

“Hey guys! Guess what? I’m coming to Seoul! I got a job offer and I took it and now I’ll be moving there!” Yoongi springs up on his feet as soon as you tell him, excitedly knocking Namjoon out of his chair making you cover your eyes as the impact looks like it hurts.

“Really?! Wow that’s great!”

“I know, right? Let everyone know that I’m coming and I’m gonna be closer to you.”

“Yep. I’ll let them know. When are you coming here?” You fumble with the phone in your hand as you pull up the schedule on your tablet.

“Two weeks.” You and Yoongi hung up the call after chatting for a bit in private. You were quite happy with how your relationship was going, you haven’t even taken him to bed and you were the least bit bothered about that. Your emotional connection with Yoongi was more important than anything that comes after this point.

That’s why when he asked you if you wanted to go on a date on his company rooftop, you agreed. It was your third date with Yoongi, and you were more than excited to be in the same room as him. You were still in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, happy to be around the man you adore the most. With his gummy smile and chocolate brown eyes, you fell in love with ease.

“It’s cold today.” He takes a swig from the bottle of Coke, making you wonder why he looked particularly down today.

“I suppose it is.” You were wearing a long-sleeved top and a pair of blue jeans. You didn’t dress for the cold weather, in hopes of earning a hoodie for your collection.

“I have to tell you something,” He turns to you with wide eyes, again looking at you sorrowfully as he tells you what was weighing on his mind. “It’s about Jin.” 

After your date with Yoongi, Jin was rushed to the hospital. You caught up with the other members and two managers, who were making calls and pacing around the hall. The BTS members stayed seated in their chairs, waiting for news from a doctor. Hoseok looked worried, Jimin was in tears, Jungkook looked almost angry, Taehyung remained expressionless, and Namjoon was concentrating on his phone.

Yoongi was the most stoic out of everyone, even beating Taehyung for the best “blank” face. You didn’t know what to do, Yoongi just told you about Jin’s condition and now you were suddenly in the hospital, waiting for a proper report from the doctor about this thing.

“You know he’s gonna be okay, right? Jin always bounces back.” From Namjoons’ tone, you could tell this was a regular occurrence. The only problem is, it looks like this is the first time he’s been in a serious condition like this.

“For how long, Joon?” Yoongi snaps, making everyone in the hall turn around in surprise. “I mean, the doctors always say that he can go home and with a little rest he’ll be fine. He had about a month off counting all of the breaks the company granted him, and after he got back to work it just worsened. What should we say about that, huh?” He lowers his voice as he speaks to everyone, not just Namjoon.

“You’re right, Yoongz. We have to stop saying he’ll be okay. There are always gonna be trips to the hospital, especially now since we’re working harder than ever to make sure our next tour is better than anything our fans have ever seen.” Jimin wipes his tears on his sleeve, smiling at Yoongi as you clench your fist in your lap. You felt so helpless and it hurt even worse that you couldn’t do anything to make it better.

Jin’s condition is incurable, a disease that destroys him from the inside. He wasn’t dying yet, but it is a disease, so there is always a possibility of death. His immune system is weak so he gets sick easily. Even though he has the voice of an angel, he often loses his voice due to sore throats or other physical handicaps that prevent him from displaying his full potential.

He is only a few months older than him, but Yoongi looks up to him as if he was a grandfather or father figure, even. There’s no way to explain their closeness apart from the fact that he goes fishing with him because Jin likes to fish. Yoongi wants to spend as much time with him as possible not because he’s afraid of losing him, but more that he wants to remember the good times.

The members of BTS didn’t think it was possible that they would lose one of their own but they had to address it, especially since there was a photo leak of the boys sitting in the waiting room.

Jin only takes “long” to learn choreography because of his weak feet. He can dance well but he can’t move as nimbly as Jimin or Hoseok. Right off the bat, when it comes to learning new choreography he has to slowly break down the steps or else he’d get anxious and pass out. He wasn’t a weakling because of the disease, it was because of his mind.

The kind of criticism Jin got from the media online was harsh. It was enough to push anyone over the edge. That’s why when you saw him go into the practice room alone while you were on your way over to Yoongi’s studio, you took a moment to follow him and talk to him face to face.

“Jin?”

You make your way over to the practice room only to find him passed out on the floor. You call various employees, managers, and even get ahold of 112 at some point. Jin’s condition worsened, he was hooked to an IV tube because of his lack of appetite. 

He’s looking more sickly these days, although it’s been only four days of him being hospitalized with an IV tube attached to his arm. Yoongi has been drowning himself in work, producing songs left and right, creating mashups, remixes, and working on songs for the other members. You barely got to see him with it being close to christmas season and your company preparing a big launch involving a new group of artists to be released to the world. You were part of the planning team for this project, so you had your hands full with work for a while.

You and Yoongi never took an official break, per say, you just didn’t make time for each other for a short period of time.

When you saw him again, it was at an awards ceremony. BTS was coming off the stage and you got a better look at him from the side stand, as he was very close to your section. The crowd for this stage was much smaller than any you’ve seen for BTS. There were about 10 people in your section, so it wasn’t hard for Yoongi to spot you and flash his best smile at you without searching.

He performed with swagger in his movements, his body mesmerizing you as he teased you again with a playful smile and a jolt in his hips. He looked like he was trying to hide something, but at the same time it was so obvious that he was trying to get through to you.

When he came over to your section particularly, and gave a finger heart to the audience, you knew you were screwed. After the performance, you made sure to give him a stern talking to. You were allowed to visit backstage just to check on the MC and make sure he had the right information about your group, but no one minded that you came back regardless just to visit Yoongi. 

He had snuck away, meeting you in a dark and creepy hallway. You both look sketchy as hell, with him in a colorful suit and you wearing a pencil skirt with a baby blue top. Your hair was undone, messy with the way Yoongi had tangled his fingers in your luscious locks, kissing you passionately before you break the kiss to give him a piece of your mind.

“You’re in a lot of trouble, young man.” You grit your teeth as he growls in a low voice, a baritone moan escaping his quivering lips as you bring your knee up to his bulge. 

“Maybe you should rethink who is the one that needs saving.” He squints after you grope his hard length through his pants, making his cock turn red from the rush of blood as you pull out his shaft from the seat of his pants (after pulling down the zipper of course)

“This is a very dangerous game you’re playing at, darling.” As soon as you flick your pencil skirt up and slide your panties all the way down to your knees before removing them completely, Yoongi is hooked. He doesn’t mind having sex fully clothed, as long as you don’t soil his outfit. He still has to meet other people after this, the least he could do is look presentable.

“When will I see you again?” You ask as he languidly strokes his cock, making sure to test your moist clit first with his fingers before sinking his cock into you.

“I don’t know, maybe 3 days? I have a lot of prep work to do and with the little free time I have I need to rest up. It’s not a good idea for you to hang around or I might not get much sleep.” He winks at you before you feel the hardened cock twitch inside of you, feeling the discomfort from his size turning into something more pleasurable.

“Fuck, you’re so big.” He grunts with the first few thrusts before processing what you just said.

“Ah, so you forgot already? Looks like I’m going to have to punish you.” He flips you over so that his lips are on your neck, and your body is cradled against him as you arch your back at the sudden feeling of emptiness from him pulling out so unexpectedly.

“Put it in again, please.” You beg him as he clicks his tongue before placing a hand on your back, and whispering,

“Bend over.” 

You didn’t hesitate to listen that time, only gasping as he spanks your exposed clit and moves up to your ass. And then, he fingers you for the first time today.

You take in the feeling, soaking it up for your memories. There’s not a moment that passes when you don’t fantasize about your dreamy boyfriend. He’s always busy nowadays, and the same could be said for you. You’re pretty sure Yoongi doesn’t think about you as much as you think about him, as he seems very passive about the sex now especially.

You feel like he is doing a task rather than pleasuring you for the sake of satisfying you both. Even with the way his digits glide across your vulva and delicately penetrate your pinkish hole, you feel that he is just doing it so that you remember what he feels like. As silly as your speculations are, you’d like to think that the reason Yoongi was being so passive with you was because he is cheating on you. 

As you get absorbed in your own thoughts, Yoongi takes notice of how you aren’t responding to his touches, abruptly stopping his finger-fucking as you snap out of your daze. 

“Huh?” You blink down at him as he stays at chest-level with you, his palm resting on your thigh.

“You’re zoning out. What’s wrong?” You shake your head, flashing him your best smile before grabbing his cock and stroking him gently between your fingers.

“Just thinking about us. Sorry, it’s hard to focus on just sex when there’s a hundred other things in my mind. I’m glad we’re still making time for each other.” Yoongi gives you a small smile, grabbing your hand and sucking your fingers, individually.

“Yeah, but for how long?” The dreaded question you’d been meaning to ask comes out of Yoongi’s mouth.

“Are we gonna be okay?” You meant your relationship, but you had a slight feeling that he knew as well.

“I don’t know.”

🌼 PART 2 🌼 ⇗

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Cruel Summer Pt. III

Summary: Based loosely off of Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift. Things seem to be on a roller coaster, highs and lows and jumping emotions. A discussion about one of the pivotal points of their relationships that could either be the start of a new beginning or the awakening of a terrible ending.

Word Count: 1818

Warnings: Angst, fluff, manipulative-ish speech, very slight age gap, implied smut, almost ddlg elements but not quite (Please let me know if I missed anything, I will be happy to add on)

A/N: Tags are at the bottom. I am so sorry this took literally a lifetime to write and get out but its FINALLY HERE. Will be added to AO3 at some point. NO spoilers, takes place before the events of Knives out. Read Part One Here // Read Part Two Here

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs, likes, comments, and constructive criticism welcomed and highly appreciated.

Hummingbirds sang their beautiful song, fluttering through the evening sun. Wind bristling through the trees, the faint sound of wind chimes and a bird splashing in the bird bath. The outside air; light and warm, a breath of life and happiness. Almost taunting with how it didn't change from how it was left. 

It was a stark contrast to the nearly tangible heaviness that cast itself inside, sitting thick and awkward. The sound of a metal spoon clinking against glass nearly drowning out the sound of the help Ransom paid to stay and make dinner. The warmth of the cup of tea keeping thoughts from straying too far as tension begin to settle. 

Uncomfortable shifting in the dining chair, occasional, timid glances to the man next to you. Never had you ever seen him look so raw. His hair pushed back from running his hands through it so many times, instead of from the numerous products you knew he had stocked in his closet. The sweater he wore, albeit already worn, was so stretched out from him pulling on the cuffs that it naturally just rested against his palm. One hand fiddled with the fabric as he bit at his nails on the other. 

The last time he even looked remotely this nervous was after a few drinks when he showed you some writing he had done, something he hid but was proud of. And that was easily more than a year ago. But now, now was different. This almost looked like regret. 

After a quick sip of the warm liquid to calm your nerves, you cleared your throat, looking over at him. Ransom's gaze quickly snapped to focus in on you, waiting for you to speak.

"You asked me to stay, so what is it you could possibly want to talk about now?" You hadn't meant to sound so rude, but the exhaustion and irritability of the situation had settled heavily. You'd give anything to just have this over with, to be able to be alone and process everything. 

Ransom opened his mouth to speak, but closed it before letting out a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. "I just don't understand how we're somehow on the same page and not at the same damn time. Frankly, I don't understand how we were both there and you somehow… came out feeling like, like that about it, about me."

A scoff escaped from you, shaking your head and looking at him with utter bewilderment written on your face. "Ransom, you truly don't see how I could have fallen in love with you?" His only response was a look that was somewhere between confusion and certainty, as if he was confused as to how love was even an option. 

"Okay then," you took another sip of your tea before staring back at him, determined at this point to at least make him see it your way, if not to even hurt him a little. "Tell me, how do you remember our trip to Paris?"

He huffed out a chuckle that was void of amusement, eyebrows scrunched as he shrugged, "I don't know, it was about a month after I started fucking your brains out. Woke up one morning and told you to pack a bag, which you did because at that point you did whatever I said, and we flew to Paris in my private jet. We spent a week there, having sex and eating at fancy restaurants. I bought you a bunch of clothes and jewelry. Then we came home."

Your eyes had fallen shut, shaking your head and clicking your tongue as you opened them. He looked smug, but his attitude quickly changed when he saw the anger and disbelief pouring itself out of you. "That's truly how you remember that trip?"

He shrugged, "Yeah," his voice faltered softly as he continued, "How do you remember it?"

Some part of you begged not to open that door, not to go diving in to memories that would no doubt leave you even more hurt than before. 

Delicate touches and even softer sheets, a soft breeze rustling the sheer curtains that led to the balcony overlooking the city, intricate smells - a warming mixture of coffee, baked bread, and a touch of nicotine.

Everything about it screamed Paris, the city of romance, the city of love and adventure. The city that undoubtedly shifted the emotions that flowed. 

"I know you're awake, baby girl," your eyes hadn't even opened yet, a smile creeping on your lips as your skin warmed at the sound of the pet name. 

There was that low chuckle, the one the vibrated the chest your head rested on, that made you melt and float at the same time. The delicate touches, the soft swirls he drew on your back turned to a firm squeeze on your hip. "Get your sweet ass up, I'm taking you out." 

Ransom slid out from underneath you, soft whines leaving you in protest as you finally opened your eyes to look at him. You were met with his bare backside as he made his way to the bathroom. "I'm too sore to move," you called out with a pout. 

He stopped at the door way, looking over his shoulder at you, eyes dark and a shit eating grin on his face. "Well, I suggest if you want me to kiss it better, you better get your ass in the damn shower."

-

"Where are you taking me?" The words came out as a giggle as you clung onto Ransom's arm, blindfolded and letting him lead you to God only knows as. The ground beneath gradually became flat and smooth, unlike the walkways of the streets. 

"You're not selling me off, are you?" You teased.

Ransom chuckled and you could feel his body move as he shook his head. "No, sweetheart. You're worth much more than everything you're about to see. It'd be hard finding someone willing to pay that much."

He stopped moving, reaching up to slowly pull the blindfold off. "You used to talk about visiting art museums all across the world when we were little, so I figured this'd be a nice little treat."

You squealed softly and you took in your surroundings. You were standing in the middle of the Tuileries garden at the Louvre, beautiful sculptures and flora overwhelming your senses. "God! You really do spoil me," you look at him with a bright smile. "Come on, I'm dragging you through as much as possible before you decide it's time to leave."

He smirked and shook his head, "Well, we have reservations at 6 for a restaurant not too far from here. But other than that, the day is yours, princess."

"You're letting me decide what we do for a whole day?" You raised your eyebrows at him. 

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises," that cocky tone was something you were coming to love more than tolerate, "Lead the way."

-

It was no wonder Ransom made you wear a nicer dress that day, insisting on you putting a little more effort into your appearance than usual. He never asked for anything like that. You found it odd earlier that morning as you smeared his favorite red lipstick across your lips, but as you stood outside the restaurant where meals cost easily as much as your phone bill, you understood. 

A balcony seat with a view overlooking the city. The sun was just starting to set, spreading hues of pink, purple, and gold in the sky as the lights from the Eiffel Tower could be seen glowing in the distance. People were still bustling in the streets, couples hand in hand, kids running and laughing, the occasional Parisian leaning against the stone building with a cigarette. It hit you then that there was no one else you'd want to be in Paris with. 

Already, Ransom had pulled your seat out for you and pushed you in, ordered your drinks and food for you, and as you looked back at him you caught him staring. For just a split second there was something more to the look on his face, a glisten in his eyes you'd never seen before. But, just as soon as you saw it, it was gone. A smirk spread across his lips, his eyes set back to their normal hue and you wanted nothing more than to smack it off his face. 

Not because he was being an asshole or because he was right about something (and knew damn well you were wrong), but because you knew this time that smirk was hiding something. But the time to pester and whine was neither here nor there when you were surrounded by riches, lavished in the luxury that was Paris, the upscale restaurant, and the company of Ransom. 

-

The cool metal of the railing nipped through the material of your shirt as you overlooked the now dark city from the comfort of your hotel room. A few glasses of wine you normally wouldn't drink, a shared cigarette you didn't quite like but did anyway because "it's a part of the experience"; and quite honestly, Ransom could get you to try anything at least once. 

The padding of his bare feet across the floor and onto the patio pulled you out of the replay the was looping in your head. The soft smiles, the feeling of his hand in your, the laughter and warmth that filled your chest all day quickly being pushed to the side as he reached his arms around you, quicker than you could turn around. 

Ransom clasped a necklace around your neck and when you looked down to examine it your heart swelled. A dainty, chain with a nice size diamond laid against your skin. If you didn't know any better your say it resembled a heart but… maybe that was just wishful thanking. 

"Ransom, you didn't have to ge-"

"I wanted to," he quickly cut you off, "And be a good girl for me and don't ever take it off." He looked at you expectantly as you looked back at him, eyes glossy and a slight pout to your lip as emotions overwhelmed you. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Reaching into your bag you pulled something out. Without even looking at it you tossed it at him, annoyance and hurt written on your face as you both watched the diamond necklace skitter toward him and stop by his hand that rested on on the table. 

You watched as Ransom picked it up, swallowing hard and jaw setting as he examined the piece of jewelry. A sigh and shake of his head as he eyes fell to the little "H" he had engraved on the backside of it. 

You smirked, huffing and biting the inner corner of your cheek before speaking, "Go ahead and tell me again how this was just an arrangement."

Taglis (cross through means you were unable to be tgged)   @sweetlittlegingy @star-spangled-steve @jessiejunebug @fresa-luna @thegirlwithpaperheart @jesaigne @introvertedmouse @sinner-as-saint @sp2900 @qrndevans @dammitcaswhy @livsheph @darcia22 @paranjaperiyauniverse @dramaticsassmaster @rose-k @lovemesomeavengers @steeeeverogers @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @bemysugarbean @dreamlesswonder86 @ambrosixx @heyiamthatbitch @daazzeey, @fresa-luna @bitchcraftandwitchery @thatoneslytherinbeater @breezyfreezey @quesadellacatburglar @renxzs @imsonick @sambucky8 @honeybabybubba @lover1307 @marvelismysafezone @bxby-kittxn @nibbles7192 @21stcenturywitchcraft @ssworldofsw @im-married-to-chris-evans

[mnemosyne-musing]

mine eye and heart are at a mortal war (river/ten)

Care for some Christmas shopping? X

 The Doctor stared at the message in front of him. Five words followed by a set of coordinates. A smile started to curl his lips involuntarily.

 “Well,” he said to himself, his feet already carrying him back towards the console, “I suppose a bit of Christmas shopping wouldn’t hurt.”

 Pulling down the levers as the TARDIS dematerialised and hurtled through the vortex, he allowed himself a brief glance in the mirror. Just to check his tie. And his hair. Because it wouldn’t do to look too scruffy for festive shopping. That was all.

Pushing those thoughts aside as the TARDIS landed, he idly wondered what else River would have in store for him. She didn’t quite seem like the type of person to just summon him for a spot of festive shopping. No, there must be something else happening he decided as he strode over to the door. Funny how that thought was not nearly as terrifying as it had been only so very recently.

 He pulled open the door and stepped out, looking around him. He’d landed in a snow-covered alley in what looked like a corner of an enormous open-air Christmas market. Stepping outside and shutting the door, he took a few steps, glancing around him more closely.

 He spotted her almost immediately. The first stall was a bar serving various festive concoctions by the looks of things. She was perched on a barstool at the end, sipping from a cocktail glass and flicking idly through her diary.

 Shoving his hands in his pockets, he suppressed the grin that had spread automatically over his face and sauntered forward.

 “Rivah!” he called out as he approached.

 She turned at that and he hesitated for a moment as he was sure he caught just the tiniest flash of disappointment across her face before it vanished and was replaced by a smile.

 “Doctor,” she replied, “Fancy seeing you here!”

  He shook himself mentally as he approached her. Surely, he had just imagined that. She’d always been pleased to see this version of him before. Well, apart from that first time but… No, he didn’t think about that. Not now.

 He paused a few feet away as she stood up gracefully from the barstool. She was wearing a dark blue trench coat, cinched tight across her waist with the collar turned up against the chill in the air. As she stashed her diary away in a pocket, his gaze took in the blood red high heels she was wearing. Not quite the footwear he’d expected for Christmas shopping but if anyone could browse in sky-high heels, he suspected the woman in front of him was it.

 As if sensing his train of thought, River gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’ve just come from a party,” she said by way of explanation, “Shall we?” she added, nodding to the market.

 Looking around him in more detail as they started to wander among the stalls, the Doctor took a deep sniff of the crisp air.

 “Is this…” he mumbled, before sticking his tongue out, “Is this Arctos IV?”

 “Yes, it is,” River nodded, “Biggest Christmas market this side of the galaxy. Best spot for some last-minute shopping!”

 He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her. “It’s also home to the largest collection of precious jewellery in this side of the galaxy.”

 “Is it?” River asked, her face a picture of innocence.

 He paused in his stride and grasped her elbow, pulling her around to face him slightly. “River, is that why you’re here?” he asked her as she rolled her eyes at him, “These jewels are not something to be trifled with.”

 “Doctor dear,” she replied with another roll of her eyes, “I am not here to drag you into a jewel heist. Now, come along. I want to look at the tree decorations.”

 However, it appeared that someone else was on a jewel heist at that particular time. That and together with a subsequent stand-off and misunderstanding between the local constabulary and three hours later, the Doctor found himself in a small holding cell with River Song in the local jail.

 Pacing the small cell, he tugged at his collar. Unlike most jails, this one seemed particularly warm. Not that River seemed terribly affected, still bundled up in her trench coat and looking rather nonchalant despite their predicament.

 “Are you sure you didn’t have anything to do with this?” he asked her again as he futilely rattled the door which remained firmly bolted. River simply arched an eyebrow at him in response and he felt a faint thrill of irritation run through him at the gesture. Ever since he had arrived, he had struggled to shake off the slight niggly feeling at the back of his mind that he wasn’t quite the version of himself that River had had in mind when she sent the note.

 He raked his gaze over her as she leaned against the dirty prison wall, casually inspecting her nails. Well, he thought indignantly, he didn’t have to put up with this attitude. He had plenty of other things he could be doing.

 “Why did you really summon me here anyway?” he demanded, watching her closely as she flicked her gaze up towards him, “You haven’t done any Christmas shopping.”

 River looked up at him for a long moment, her head tilted slightly to one side before she finally answered. “I wanted to give you your Christmas present.”

 He perked up at that. “A present?”

 She reached into her pocket and retrieved something before chucking it to him.

 “A snow-globe?” he said, slightly nonplussed as he looked at the fairly ordinary, small orb in his hands, “Well, that’s…umm, that’s lovely.”

 “You’re welcome, sweetie,” River murmured with a faint smirk playing around her lips.

 There was something about her tone that made him pause and look at her again, his gaze dropping to her midriff as she subconsciously smoothed a hand over the fabric of her coat. Stalking towards her, he crowded her space as she looked up at him in surprise.

 “Don’t lie to me River,” he warned, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in further, “What’s really going on?”

 “Nothing, I…”

 “I don’t believe you,” he cut in as she blinked up at him, a look of irritation passing ever so briefly over her features before vanishing, “This is something to do with those jewels going missing isn’t it?”

 “No, Doctor! Now, I admit, that the timing doesn’t look great, but…”

 “You’ve stashed it under that coat, haven’t you?” he interrupted triumphantly, leaning further into her personal space, “That’s why you won’t take it off!”

 She rolled her eyes at him, this time doing little to disguise the look of annoyance on her face.

 “No!” she insisted, “I have not.”

 “Prove it!” the Doctor retorted smugly, leaning one palm on the wall next to her head. A feeling of satisfaction rose inside him as she glared outright back at him. He wasn’t quite sure who River Song was, although he had more than a sneaking suspicion, but she clearly didn’t know him quite as well as she claimed if she thought she could pull a fast one on him like this. “Take it off!”

 “No!”

 “Why not?”

 “I don’t want to!”

 “Funny that,” he glared back at her now, “You know, I don’t appreciate this, River. I don’t know what I do in the future that makes you think you can just click you fingers and I’ll appear to do your bidding but let me tell you…”

 “Fine!” she snapped suddenly, cutting off his rant just as he was building up a head of steam, “But on your own head be it and don’t you dare tell me off for this when you’re older!”

 “When I’m older?” he frowned at her in confusion as her hand moved to the belt on her coat, “Why would I tell you off when I’m…” he trailed off as she untied the belt and let her coat hang open, “Oh!”

 He felt his mouth go dry immediately as his gaze dropped. Instead of a fancy cocktail dress that he’d been expecting, she was instead dressed only in a matching ruby red, lacy bra and knickers, both adorned with a tiny bow in the shape of a sprig of holly. He swallowed heavily as his eyes traced greedily over the curves of her body and down to the high heels on her feet, his trousers starting to tighten uncomfortably. Good gods, but she was perfect. Not even his imagination on lonely nights had managed to conjure up this vision accurately.

 “Merry Christmas, sweetie,” River murmured huskily, a small grin playing around the edges of her lips as he finally dragged his gaze up to meet hers and she pulled her coat back around her, “Sorry for the spoilers. Now that we’ve cleared that up though,” she added, holding up her wrist and pulling the sleeve back to reveal a vortex manipulator, “How about we get out of here?”

 (Ten minutes or 250 years later)

 River let out a sigh as the lift door pinged to the penthouse suite. She had dropped the Doctor off at the TARDIS and had gently refused his stammering, blushing offer of a lift before telling him she had reserved the penthouse in the swankiest hotel and fully intended to make use of the jacuzzi en-suite and room service before sending him on his way.

 She knew she had been a bit reckless to do what she’d done but she couldn’t quite bring herself to fully regret it. The look on his face as he’d realised what was really under her coat was worth it alone. She was dealing with younger and younger versions of him these days and really, who could blame a girl for trying to have a little fun when she could. It certainly made the long, lonely, frustrating nights a bit more bearable.

 As she entered the suite, the hair on the back of her neck prickled. There was someone else here. Her hand automatically went to the blaster in her pocket.

 “Hi honey,” a familiar voice called out from behind her, “I’m ho- ho- home!”

 A feeling of relief and joy washed over her. Turning round slowly, River took in the sight of her husband, lounging on the sofa, a Santa hat perched jauntily on his head. “And what time do you call this?” she asked archly, biting her lip to repress the urge to beam at him.

 He leapt up from the sofa and shrugged, smirking at her. “Better late than never?” he offered with a grin as he closed the distance between them, “Now,” he said as he stopped just in front of her, “Do I finally get my Christmas present?”

 River looked up at him as he gazed at her, his eyes darkening as they flitted down her body and back up again, “Well,” she murmured, reaching out and sliding her hands slowly up his chest and looping them around his neck, “That depends.”

 The Doctor arched an eyebrow at her, his hands dropping to toy with the belt of her coat. “Depends on what?”

 “Have you been a good boy this year or not?” she whispered huskily as she leant into him.

 “Oh,” he replied with a grin as his hands worked the belt loose and her coat fell open, “I’ve been very good!”

 “Well then Doctor,” she murmured as his hands snaked around her waist and pulled her against him, “Merry Christmas!”

 ---

[ladyanput]

Seeing Green Ch.3

Well, here we go guys, a double chapter in one. I would like to thank everyone for having patience with me.

[[MORE]]

Marinette smiled to herself after her date with Damian. It had been so wonderful, he was wonderful, a perfect gentleman. His smile had sent her heart fluttering, something that hadn't been accomplished since… Since Adrien.

Mari's smile dimmed slightly, but she shook her head. No! Adrien would not ruin this for her. At least this guy, this wonderful, handsome guy had an actual romantic interest in her. It would be different, she wouldn't be chasing a dream, she'd be chasing a reality, something within her reach.

"Tikki, I think I want to go out for a bit. Clear my head before bed. That date with Damian… I'm a bit restless now." Marinette stretched, now dressed in comfortable pajamas. The teen headed to her hotel room window and opened it. She winked at her Kwami. "Alright, Tikki, Spots on!"

As Ladybug leapt into the night, pulling herself to a ledge cross from her room. She knew she shouldn't be Ladybug, not in Gotham, as she should be in Paris, but it just felt so odd not to be out on patrol. She thanked whatever god there was that she had gotten Viperion and Ryuko back on as full time heroes. It had made her stress of leaving Paris on this trip a little less stressful, and having Klaaki helped when she had to purify the akumas. 

As she landed on the rooftop, she barely avoided landing in some kind of white substance on the ledge. She frowned at it, silently noting that this must be a popular place for birds, before she took that moment to step onto the center of the roof and take in the city. It was such a condensed place, full of tall buildings, of noisy cars and pollution. It was worlds away from Paris.

So lost in her thoughts, she almost didn't hear the sound of someone landing on the roof behind her. She turned and spotted a red and black caped figure. Her brows rose as she realized that this was one of Gotham's vigilantes. She wracked her brain right quick, and a name came to mind; Red Robin.

"Can I help you with something?" He began advancing towards her, and Ladybug's defenses went up. Shit, she wasn't supposed to be spotted. His frown was more evident as he drew near, crossing his arms. "I don't think I've ever seen you around Gotham before."

"Please, I… I am friendly. I just came to America for a small vacation." Marinette groaned mentally at the lie as she held her hands up, showing she wasn't armed. But she could see he had weapons on him, and that made the hairs on the back of her head stand on end. She could probably take him in a fight, but she didn't want to risk hurting one of Batman's partners, especially since he was part of the Justice League. Whether they believed her situation in Paris or not, she still needed some help. "A- and to speak to Monsieur Batman. I am Ladybug, a hero from Paris. We really need help, things are getting out of hand!"

"What do you mean? What's going on in Paris?" He was silent the entire time Ladybug spoke, explaining in detail what had been going on for the past few years. She could feel as Red Robin glanced her over, calculating something. He then tilted his head, as if listening to something, before he uncrossed his arms and they dropped to his sides.  "Well, Ladybug, while that tale seems hard to believe… Batman will meet you here tomorrow. If you get up to any funny business, we won't hesitate to take you out, understand?"

"Oui, Monsieur. Merci." Ladybug's shoulders sagged in relief. It had been a split minute cover story, but now it had probably given her the opening she had so desperately needed. She smiled at him, and he brushed past her, heading towards the ledge facing the hotel.  "Oh, be careful! I think some birds made a mess there, you wouldn't want to step in it!" 

Red Robin froze and glanced down at where he was about to step. He stared for what felt like several minutes, before he tensed and let out a curse that made Ladybug flush. He knelt down, holding what she saw was a cotton swag, swiping up some of the substance, then putting it in a glass vial attached to his belt. Without another glance back at her, he was gone, leaving Ladybug standing there, very confused. With a shake of her head, she turned around and went back to soaring across Gotham with her yo-yo.

…

Nino frowned as he watched his girlfriend sitting across the table from him. He had wanted a nice dinner with her, at the hotel's restaurant, but here she was, either typing away on her cell phone, or telling him about something new Lila had told her. He felt himself getting a headache. It was just non stop with his girlfriend and Lila, the world never seemed to go still, it was constantly in this spiralling vortex.

"I mean, I can't believe she's help Batman! THE Batman!" Alya exclaimed, her eyes lit up with excitement and eagerness, as she finished posting the story on the Ladyblog. She didn't notice Nino's blank look as she squirmed in her seat, beaming. "Imagine helping in take down Two Face in such a way, Nino! She's so awesome, I just can't believe she chose me to be her best friend! I mean, she could have chosen anyone, but she chose me! She's even going to let me do another interview with her tonight, about the time she got all streamy in a hot tub with Damian and his brother Tim…"

"Alya, babe… Can you please put the phone away? I wanted to have a nice dinner with you, it's been forever since we had a nice date." Nino reached out and took her free hand, giving it a light squeeze. Alya gave him a warm smile and set her phone aside, and they both glanced at their menus. "See anything you'd like?"

"Oh, steak frites would be nice. Did you know Lila has an uncle who runs a farm that gives every high end restaurant their meat? She's met all of the world famous chefs, maybe next time she can get us into a fancy restaurant for another date!" Alya grinned at Nino, who felt his headache worsen. They rarely had alone time together, but even when they did, Lila always seemed to somehow come up, whether it be in conversation or her calling them in the middle of the date. 

"I think we can manage without Lila, babe. I think the salmon would be nice." Nino looked up from his menu, only to see Alya back on her phone, hearing the notifications dinging frantically. "Babe, your phone.."

"Hold on, Nino, Lila's just telling me that Damian's going to take her to a high class party tomorrow night! She's sooo lucky, having him take her to the fanciest restaurant in Gotham."

"Alya, can we-" 

"Do you think maybe she'll introduce us to him? I'd love to get an interview with THE son of Bruce Wayne! I'd be the first to get his photo, the Ladyblog would blow up on a national level!"

"Alya-"

"Maybe I could get interviews from.the entire Wayne family! And when her and Damian get married, Lila will let me cover their wedding-"

"ALYA, ENOUGH ABOUT LILA!"

A pin dropping could have been heard in that restaurant. Nino had jumped to his feet and trembled with visible annoyance, while Alya sat there, clutching her phone tightly in her hands. She frowned and opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Nino stormed out of the dining room, leaving its patrons staring in his wake.

Once out of the dining room, Nino felt like crying. He had planned a nice evening, he had combed his hair back, had dressed up nicely, but it still wasn't enough. He didn't feel like enough for Alya anymore. She always seemed to be grasping for whatever big and shiny thing came next, whatever would make the most tantalizing news story.

He soon came into the bar area, leading to the hotel lobby, when he spotted Miss Bourbon. She was sitting at a table, nursing a glass of wine as she looked miserable. He hesitated, telling himself to continue back to his room, to cool off. He had never actually talked to the TA personally, but he thought she seemed nice, though very tough. He had felt bad when Lila had told Alya that the woman had been trying to escape Canada, to escape a scandal with sleeping one of her male students. Boy, that rumour had spiralled out of control and had nearly cost the woman her job, but soon seemed improbable when it was found out she worked at an all girl's academy.

Nino found himself walking over to her, meeting her inhumanly purple eyes as he took a seat across the table from her as she sipped her wine.

 "Mr. Lahiffe, is everything alright? You seem rather miffed." Eva set down her glass of wine and sat to attention. It sort of surprised Nino at how quick she was to come to his aid, that she actually did care, despite the poison Lila had spread. He clenched his hands ever so slightly, looking down at the table, frowning. "Nino?"

"Miss Bourbon… You know Lila is lying, right? I've known for a long time, but she made Alya so happy, but when things got out of hand and I tried suggesting things might be false…" Nino shut his eyes tightly, letting out a shuddering breath. "I don't recognize my girlfriend anymore. I'm just so drained all the time, and I feel like my thoughts and interests don't matter anymore."

He opened his eyes again, when he felt Miss Bourbon take his hand and give it a small squeeze.

"Have you told anyone else about this, Nino?" Eva's voice was soft, non judgemental. "Now, usually I'd say try talking to her about it. But from what I've seen,she brushes you off, huh?"

"I tried talking to Adrien, but he keeps saying that it'll turn out, that since we really love each other, we'll make it through." Nino glanced at the glass of wine between then, and sighed, putting his head in his hands. Silence hung over them for a long time.

"Now, I don't have a track record of relationships I can give you advice from, but I think you already know what to do, Nino. You don't need me to tell you."

Nino glanced up and smiled at her, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. The duo never knowing a certain Italian girl watching them from the lobby.

…

The next morning, Marinette was still grinning as she made her way down to the lobby. She practically skipped her way out of the elevator, her mood slightly lifted more when she saw that some of her classmates were already there, meaning she hadn't been left behind again. 

"Good morning, Alix." Marinette grinned as the girl spotted her and headed her way, though her steps faltered slightly when she spotted Kim, Juleka and Rose were headed her way. She tensed, dread clawing its way up her spine as they were upon her. "Oh.. Hello, everyone."

Their expressions were unreadable, before Rose's eyes flooded with tears and she threw herself into Marinette's arms and began to sob. It was then she realized that their expressions were not guilt ridden.

"I'm s- so-o sorr-ry Marinette!" Rose blubbered out, the tears dripping down her sweet face rapidly. Marinette opened her mouth to speak, but found herself speechless. 

"We were really stupid, Marinette." Juleka spoke up as she awkwardly rubbed Rose's back, meeting Mari's gaze. Then her voice trembled as when she spoke again. "We were horrible to you, over something that could be easily disproved."

"We all did some very stupid shit." They all glanced over to the elevators, just as Nino stepped into the lobby, his face clouded with shame. "I was the worst, dudette… We've known each other for so long, but… I threw that all away, didn't I?"

"We all should have listened to you, Mari. You'd have no reason to lie, we just all thought it was because if Adrien at first, but then things escalated so fast." Kim muttered, running his fingers through his hair, looking rather distressed.

"Yeah, you all should have listened to me." Marinette finally spoke after a few beats of uncomfortable silence. She gave Rose's back a gentle rub before she stepped away to cross her arms, closing herself off to them. Her expression hardened as she glared at her classmates. "Most of you had known me for years, yet you thought I'd act that way? While I appreciate your apologies, I'm not forgiving any of you. Yet."

Tikki was proud of her Chosen in that moment. Marinette knew she had grown a spine, she wasn't going to be the people pleaser anymore, she had started thinking for herself for once. 

"I might, keyword being might, forgive you guys, eventually. But right now, nothing has really proven you guys won't turn on me again. I mean, honestly, look at Alya, Ivan, Mylène, Nathaniel, Max, and Sabrina. They're still lapping it all up, and one of them used to be my best friend! So I'm sorry, but I'm not going to forgive any of you just yet." Marinette shrugged at their slightly crestfallen expressions, ignoring the guilt in her gut. "But you guys actually have some redemption, at least you guys didn't know since the beginning, like Adrien."

The following silence as almost deafening, then Alix grabbed Marinette by the shoulders, her expression murderous. Marinette flinched, feeling her skin bruise under the girl's fierce grip.

"That son of a bitch knew this entire time?" Alix's voice was soft, but deadly, promising whoever would face her fury would taste blood that night. Marinette merely shrugged once again, looking indifferent to the fact.

    “He’s known ever since she came back to school. He told me to not expose her, that her lies would expose themselves.” She set her hands on her hips, a cold smile spreading across her face as she met Alix’s eyes. “Well, they’re sure as hell taking their time to expose themselves.” 

    Alix and the others looked as if they were about to explode, but it was cut off by the arrival of Lila and her court that were still trapped under her spell, while she hung off of Adrien’s arm. 

    ‘Funny,’ Marinette smirked at the ground, raising a brow ‘,for a girl engaged to Damian Wayne, she’s very friendly with other guys.’

    “So Damidarling took me to this amazing restaurant, the lobster was absolutely divine!” Lila cooed, while her noticeably smaller court showered her with praises. She soaked it all up, beaing, though her eyes narrowed when she saw the people surrounding Marinette. Marinette could see the girl sharpening her claws as she sneered at them, “Oh, Marinette, how was your date with the intern? I hoped you enjoyed whatever rundown café his salary could afford.” 

    “I don’t think they even went to a café, they probably ate out of the trash.” Sabrina chuckled, with Alya letting out an amused snort. This was all white noise to Marinette, so she turned away and met Nino’s pained gaze, and it was obvious what he was going to do, once he got up the nerve. 

    “Good morning, everyone!” Miss Bustier strode in, beaming at her students as they watched as Miss Bourbon followed soon after, looking exhausted and drained. “Now, I know you’re all rather excited to be in a new city, so I thought that since we’re not leaving for Gotham City Park until around lunch time, I made arrangements for us to go to one of the shopping malls, so you all can have a morning of free time.”

    Many faces lit up with excitement, and Mari couldn’t deny that the thought was really enticing. She had wanted to see the fashion of Gotham, maybe see if she could get any inspiration for some new designs, maybe something gritty and rock ‘n’ roll for Uncle Jagged.

    The class soon arrived at the mall ,Miss Bustier giving them a time and place to meet at so that they could go to their planned picnic. 

    Marinette wandered off on her own, not wanting to be stuck with listening to Lila and her tales of Damian Wayne. She felt bad for the guy, she’d hate to see him meet Lila at the gala and get taken in by her lies.

    “Marinette?” Damian had just stepped out of a store, his eyes widening a fraction, before his face melted into a smile. He strode over to her, carrying a wrapped box under one arm. “Good morning, Angel. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

    “D-Damian!” Mari’s cheeks burned red and she grinned, stode towards him, letting out a giggle as he pulled her into a hug. “My teacher decided to let us have a free morning. I’m glad she did, now that I got to see you.”

    “You’re making me blush, Angel.” Damian’s smile widened, his cheeks going faintly rosy. When Marinette hooked her arm with his, she bit her lower lip when she felt the muscle through the material of his shirt. She felt bad, she was practically ogling him, but it was a physical attraction, right? Something completely natural. “Well, since you’re here, how about I accompany you until you have to leave? Maybe a fun little morning date?”

    “I’d love it.” Her heart fluttered, walking with him towards a clothes’ store. She shyly watched him from the corner of her eye as they entered. “I was hoping to see the fashion of Gotham, maybe I could make a new outfit design out of it.”

    “You’re into fashion design, right? I mean, last night you said you had designed some stuff for Jagged Stone, right? I looked it all up, you’re really talented, Marinette.” Damian’s voice was warm, gentle. He leaned down, kissing her softly on the cheek. At her look of surprise, he chuckled. “I never got to kiss you back last night, thought I’d return the favour. I hope I didn’t cross a line.”

    “No, not at all! I really liked it.” He smelled nice too, whatever his cologne was. Mari pressed her hands to her burning cheeks, trying to calm down the blush, only to nearly run into a mannequin. She squeaked, then took a step back .Her gaze sharpened slightly, and she pulled a sketchbook out of her purse, much to Damian’s surprise. God, she was adorable, with the spark of inspiration that lit up those blue eyes of hers. “Gotham fashion has a lot more dark colours, it’s more elegant, yet practical.”

    Damian smiled as he watched her sketch and mutter to herself, feeling himself feel content simply watching her. He had never felt this way around another girl before, he found most girls boring and annoying, as a matter of fact. But Marinette, she was different, he had never had the urge to kiss a girl before, but he found himself want to kiss her until she was breathless, but also to protect her from any harm. But he knew for a fact he shouldn’t rush into anything, that could be a grave mistake, he wanted to know everything about her first.

    “Marinette, I see you called your intern boy toy to join you!” Lila stepped from behind a rack, her smile sharp, ferocious, with Alya and Nino close behind. She fluttered her lashes at Damian, smiling prettily. “Wow, Mari, you must be really desperate to get Adrien’s attention if you decided to call an intern here.”

    “Mari, girl, this is getting a bit ridiculous. You need to learn that Adrien isn’t interested  in you, you need to stop using guys to make him jealous all the time.” Alya rolled her eyes, then returned her gaze to her phone, typing away frantically. Nino scowled at her, but said nothing.

    “I know how you must be feeling, Marinette, having both Adrien and Damian Wayne after me, but this jealousy of yours has gone too far.” Lila sneered down, her green eyes glinting with cruel intent. “But I guess a girl like you does deserve an intern, you both kiss ass to get where you want to be.”

    “Lila, that’s enough!” Adrien was storming up to the group, roughly shoving Damian away from Marinette, before taking the girl’s arm and pulling her close. “And you, leave Marinette alone! She’s not going to fall for your ploy, pretty boy. I won’t let you hurt her!”

    Adrien dragged the protesting Marinette out of the store, Damian and the others close behind. Adrien held Marinette close, then beamed down at her.

    “Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever. That guy won’t make you another notch on his belt, I promise.” Adrien smiled and cupped Mari’s cheek, failing to see the fury flaring in her eyes. 

    “Adrien, you have crossed a line…” Marinette whispered, fury radiating every from every word. She grabbed the wrist that was near her face tightly, squeezing it so hard that Adrien winced. “I don’t need protection, I am quite capable of taking care of myself, thanks.”

    “Marinette, stop hurting Adrien!” Lila screeched, drawing eyes from everyone. She soon burst into crocodile tears, leaning to Alya for support. “Alya, someone, stop her! Her jealousy is getting out of control! I knew she was bitter about me dating a Wayne, but this is too much!”

    “You’re not dating Damian Wayne, you little twit.” Damian snapped at Lila, advancing towards Adrien, his green eyes now ice cold. Marinette wrenched free from Adrien’s grip, only to rush to Damian, trembling in his arms as he pulled her close. He met Adrien’s gaze. “You’re Adrien Agreste, correct? I will have to have a talk with my father about having business with your brand in the future…”

    “Who the hell do you think you are? I don’t even know you!” Adrien snarled, his hands clenched into fists. That was HIS lady, HIS princess. Every part of him wanted to claw the boy’s eyes out and take Marinette somewhere safe, someplace private. She had been in love with Chat Noir once, she’d definitely love him again.

    “Do you not recognize a Wayne when you see one?” 

    Marinette blinked at the unfamiliar voice, seeing the horror on everyone’s face, then froze as she felt cold steel press against the back of her head.

    “Now, which one would be a better target? A Wayne, or his pretty little girlfriend?” Two-Face sneered down at the teens, while his goons had Lila, Alya, and Adrien at gunpoint. He slid a coin from his pocket and flipped it into the air. He caught in one hand, then grinned down at Marinette, then grabbed Damian and held a gun to the boy’s temple. “Rich boy it is. I must say, I’m surprised to see Damian Wayne out in public like this. Your girlfriend must be really special…”

    “Damian Wayne?” Mari met Damian’s eyes and felt the blood drain from her face. He was no intern, no… He was Damian fucking Wayne. She would have laughed, if not for the current situation. Her mind racing, her eyes quickly darted around the mall plaza. There was nothing within arm’s reach of her, so she had to deal with her smarts. But first, she had to get everyone else out of here. While Damian was shouting at Two Face, Marinette took the opportunity to tackle the only damned henchman the villain had brought with him, and pinned him to the ground. She looked up and met Alya’s face. “Go, get out of here, now!”

    Alya was immediately in gear, grabbing Adrien and Lila’s wrists, taking off towards the exit. Marinette’s relief was short lived when the guy smashed her across the temple, sending her crumpling to the ground. 

    “Marinette!” Damian shouted and tried to struggle from Two Face’s grip as he watched the blood ooze from his angel’s temple, spilling across the white tile floor.

Tag List:

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[busterkeatonfanfic]

Chapter 5

Buster was feeling withdrawn and almost didn’t show. He’d settled on a night working out a few more gags for the flood scenes and reading a few more chapters of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, but he was restless. The gags didn’t seem right, his attention kept wandering from the pages of the book. By his third glass of whiskey, an adventure sounded like just the thing he needed to cure the jitters. After all, he reasoned, it would mean a lot to Bert and the hired guys if he put in an appearance, even if it was just for an hour. At around half past nine, he put on his jacket and went down to the Senator’s lobby to have the valet bring the Duesenberg.

Sure enough, the speak-easy was right where they said it was, near the corner of 2nd Avenue and 33rd Street next to a Chinese laundry.

There was no need to knock on the old wooden door midway up the alley. The laughter was loud enough that he could hear the party from out here. He opened the door and let himself in. Everyone was in such a state, it made him look sober. No one noticed him and he was considering a flip-flap to get their attention when a woman’s laughter rang out among all the masculine voices, turning his head. “No, I don’t think so,” she said, quite clearly.

She was standing near the door of a darkened room and the tall blonde workman had her by the elbow. He seemed to be trying to coax her into it where at least two other men waited. Several others ringed the doorway of the room. Something about it didn’t feel right. No one else in the place seemed to notice that anything was amiss; they were caught up in conversation and card games.

“C’mon, we’ll take good care of you,” the blonde man said.

The girl planted her feet, still smiling, but Buster could see she didn’t want to go. 

“C’mon, show us your striptease!” said another man, to a peal of laughter from the group. 

Her smile faded.

Anger crackled in Buster and he started across the room. “What’s going on here?” he said. Only when he’d reached them did he notice the girl was Nelly, the one who worked in the prop house. 

“Buster!” the men all cried, throwing up their hands and smiling like it was just a big game. The tall blonde man didn’t join in, but instead let his arm fall from Nelly’s elbow and gave Buster a contemptuous look, although he immediately followed it up with an innocent smile. “Just having some fun with Nelly, is all,” he said.

“Like hell you are,” said Buster, and the smiles disappeared. “Buster,” said Nelly, looking discomfited and very, very drunk. 

“You’re coming with me.” He took her elbow and she stumbled forward, and only then did he realize how bad of shape she was in. She could barely stand up straight.

“Where’re we going?” she said, and he caught her around the waist with both hands as she lost her footing. “Ouch,” she said, trying to look at her right ankle.

“I’m taking you home,” he said, glancing back at the men. The smart ones had sense enough to look abashed. A couple were glowering, including the blonde guy. With three whiskeys under his belt, he had more than half a mind to clean the bastard’s clock. 

“Oh,” Nelly said, as she regained her balance. “You don’t have to do that, Bert was going to give me a ride.”

“No, we’re going now. Just where is Bert anyway?” said Buster, realizing he hadn’t seen him. 

Nelly shrugged. “Oh, my bag!” she said. “I can’t forget my handbag!”

“Where’s your bag?”

“Behind the bar.” “You stay here, I’ll get it.” 

When he had retrieved the little beaded purse and passed it to her, he took her elbow and guided her out the door. She smelled extremely boozy. “How much have you had to drink?” he said, as he led her carefully down the alley and to the street. 

“Not nearly enough,” she said. “Gosh, my ankle hurts.”

“Be serious.” He opened the passenger door of the Duesenberg and helped boost her into the seat. 

“This is the nicest car I’ve ever been in,” she said, looking around in a kind of glazed wonder. “But I am going to answer your question and that answer is, I am not entirely sure. I think eight drinks, maybe. I had a glass of whiskey and gin. I had some bourbon, too, and some beer. I feel splendid.”

“Hands in the car, I’m closing the door,” he said. He made his way around the front of the vehicle and climbed into the driver’s seat. “How do you really feel?”

“As gay as a feather,” she said, with a drunk giggle. 

“I mean, can you see straight? Is everything spinning?” 

“Mmm,” she said thoughtfully, squinting. “Not too badly.”

“If you’re going to be sick, you must tell me, okay? The car is new.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to upchuck in your fancy car. I’ve got better breeding than that.” She patted his arm and said, “I’m hot. Is it too warm? Are you warm as well?”

Any other time, he might have found the situation amusing, but the image of the blonde man trying to persuade her into that room had overpowered any funniness for him. 

“You could have lost your virtue back there,” he said seriously. 

“Oh, I lost that a long time ago. It’s no big thing. I wouldn’t be telling you this under normal circumstances, but what’s to be done? I’m very drunk you see.” She turned her palms up apologetically.

“I’m not talking about you being willing. Those guys had every intention of—”

“—Buster, I’m not a virgin.”

He took his hands off the steering wheel, unaware he’d been gripping it, and spun toward her in a sudden temper. “Yes, I heard you the first time. You aren’t taking this seriously. They meant to rape you. Can I put it any plainer?”

Nelly went quiet. “I’m sorry,” she said softly after a few moments, seeming to grasp even in her state what he’d saved her from.

“It’s not your fault,” he said, looking away from her, “but if I’d have been ten minutes later, who knows what they may have done.”

Nelly sank down in the seat. “I had too much to drink.”

He reached across the seat to squeeze her upper arm. “You’re not the first girl and you won’t be the last. Now, where do you live?”

“22nd Street. I rent a room there,” she said. She began to unbuckle one of her shoes.

“Address?” he said. He took the car key out of his slacks and put it in the ignition. 

“1922, I think. The year Ulysses was published.”

“You think or you’re sure?” he said, turning his head toward her again.

She removed her shoe and sank further down the seat, giving him an apologetic look. “I’m not sure now. It could be 2219. If you take me there I’ll be able to pick it out.”

He wasn’t fond of the idea of driving up and down dark streets waiting for her to choose a house and perhaps choosing wrongly, so he made a decision. “You’re going to sober up some before I take you home.”

Nelly looked uncertain, but she seemed to accept it and made no reply. 

“And tell me if you’re going to be sick. I can pull over.”

“I’m fine,” she said, as he turned the key and headed down 2nd Avenue toward Broadway.

It wasn’t the adventure he had been after, but he supposed saving a damsel in distress counted for something. Nellie removed her other shoe and rubbed her ankle. “Would you care if I put down the window?” she said. “I’m so hot.”

“Knock yourself out.”

She rolled it and put her hand out into the night air. To Buster, who had never taken off his jacket, the temperature felt plenty cool. He considered, turning down Broadway, how he was going to look walking into the lobby of the Senator with a girl who couldn’t see straight and taking her up to his room, but he was just going to have to chance it. 

A peculiar movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked over. “What are you doing?” he said. Nelly had pulled the skirt of her dress halfway up her thighs and was wrestling with the garter clips of her girdle. 

She gave him a guilty look. “I’m hot.”

“Please don’t take off all your clothes. I don’t want a scandal,” he said, only half-joking as he envisioned the lurid headline (‘Dame Caught without a Stitch in Buster Keaton’s Duesenberg’) and Natalie’s hysterical reaction. He thought fleetingly of Virginia Rappe, who would strip any time she had a few drinks in her.

“I’m not, just my stockings,” said Nelly, sounding embarrassed. “They’re suffocating me.”

He turned his eyes back on the road and rubbed his forehead. “Okay, carry on.” 

She continued bustling in his peripheral vision and eventually succeeded in rolling down the offending stockings. “It was a mistake to wear these,” she mumbled. 

He decided not to answer. He was already thinking ahead to the hotel room. He’d get some coffee and food into her, wait around while she recuperated, then take her straight home. He was forced to look over again when she thrust her hand out the window, gripping her stocking and making it trail in the breeze like a wind sock. “Goodbye,” she said, releasing it.

“Good God, why have you done that?” he said.

“It was a mistake and I’m getting rid of my mistakes.” She dangled the second stocking out of the window for a moment before letting it go, humming to herself under her breath. Fortunately, they were at the Senator in less than ten minutes before his mixture of annoyed and amused tipped further toward annoyed.

“I’m going to let her sober up and then take her back home,” he couldn’t help but say to the valet as he got out of the front seat. 

Nelly, to his dismay, chimed in as he helped her out of the car. “He rescued me and I am indebted.”

He put his arm around her waist and helped her into the hotel, she in bare feet with her shoes in one hand and purse in the other. He was relieved to see that the lobby was mostly empty. He made a beeline for the elevator and ignored the attendant manning it. Nelly hummed and looked around, and the attendant gamely pretended she didn’t exist. Blessedly, the coast was clear as Buster took her to his room and unlocked the door. By now, it was approaching ten-thirty. He deposited her on a settee in the salon and rang down for some toast and coffee for two.

“Is there a lavatory here?” said Nelly, when he’d hung up. 

He assisted her to it, warning her not to pass out or hit her head because he wouldn’t be coming in to rescue her. His luck held out when she emerged without a scrape. Back in the salon, she stretched out on the light blue velvet sofa with the high back and massaged her ankle. “Okay, the room is spinning now.” Without a word, he set a wastebasket at her feet. “Use that if you need to.” The whole encounter had sobered him up; he didn’t feel the whiskey anymore and poured himself a glass so he could relax. As he sipped, he looked at Nelly. There were two types of drunk girls in his experience, lewd and ridiculous. Nelly was a classic case of the latter. She sat up slightly with her bare knees bent and began reaching into her hair. She pulled out one pin, then another. He watched as tendril after thick tendril tumbled to her shoulders. “Why do you wear your hair long?” he asked.

She smiled. In the light, he could see her mascara was smudged and her eyes had that slightly faraway look of every person three sheets to the wind. “I know, it’s terribly out of fashion, isn’t it?”

He sipped. “I didn’t say that.”

For a moment, she appeared and sounded perfectly sober. “It was my one concession to my mother. She hates the idea of me being an actress and she really hated that I came to California. Before I left, she made me promise that I would never bob my hair. Like Jo March, it’s my one beauty.”

He was about to tell her that wasn’t true, but a knock came on the door. He set the glass of whiskey down and commandeered the tea cart from a reluctant staff member, who wanted to wheel it inside for him. He didn’t care for the man to catch sight of Nelly and her bare legs.

“Do you take sugar or cream?” he asked Nelly, after he’d taken the cart to the sofa. By now, over half of her hair was down, brown and thick and wavy and glossy. He found himself staring and had the blind thought that he was grateful her mother talked her out of bobbing it. 

“Cream, please,” she said, still busy with her hair. “Thank you.” She took the cup from him and folded her legs up, pulling her skirt down over her knees. 

“So you want to be an actress?” He took off his jacket and laid it on the back of the chair, and picked up his whiskey again. 

She gave him a smile that almost looked sad as she sipped the coffee. Her glazed eyes considered him. “That’s the idea. I guess I’ve got a few pounds to get rid of, though. Probably shouldn’t eat that toast.”

He tried not to grimace. “Nelly, if I could take back what I said last week, I’d do it in a heartbeat. You don’t need to lose a single pound and if you don’t eat some toast, I’ll dump you out the window right now.”

“You hurt my feelings that day,” she said, as if she hadn’t heard him. “I’ve tried not to let it bother me, but I suppose I’m only human.”

He did the only thing he could think of. He stood up, took the coffee out of her hand, set it down, hooked one arm under her knee and the other beneath her back, and lifted her bodily from the sofa. She shrieked in surprise.

“Buster, what are you doing?” she said, kicking her ankles and squealing.

“I am demonstrating to you that you are not heavy is what I’m doing,” he said, looking sternly into her face. “And I won’t set you down until you agree to eat something.”

Nelly gave up and went still. “This is ridiculous,” she said, glaring up at him.

“You’re right,” he said, frowning down at her.

They scowled at each other for a moment or two before the absurdity of the situation struck them at the same time and they broke into laughter. 

“Please,” Nelly said, laughing, “set me down please.”

“Promise you’ll have at least two slices of toast.”

“Promise.”

He lowered her back to the sofa. “Good. Raspberry jam or marmalade?”

“Just butter, please.”��

He buttered two slices and passed them over to her on a plate. She bit into one obligingly and looked at him. He went back to his whiskey. 

After she’d finished one slice of toast, she said, “You have a dimple in your right cheek when you smile.”

He pretended not to have heard her. “You want to be an actress?” he said, picking up the thread of their earlier conversation. 

“Doesn’t everyone?” she said, starting on the second piece of toast. She yawned. 

“I don’t want to be an actress.”

“Haha,” she said dryly, setting the plate aside after one bite. 

“What do you see yourself doing? As an actress.” The whiskey had begun to warm up his blood and he was beginning to like the repartee.

“You really want to know what my dream is?” she said, raising her eyebrows.

“I asked, didn’t I?” 

“Even if you’re just feigning a polite interest, I’ll tell you,” she said. Her hands went back up to the top of her head and another tendril of hair fell to her shoulders. “When I lived in Evanston, that’s where I’m from, I acted at the Vista—that’s our theater—mostly in revues, but I always liked Shakespeare best. I think talkies will change the way they film Shakespeare. Shakespeare’s hardly Shakespeare without the words, you know? That’s what I’ve always thought. You could film in all the places he talks about too, Scotland and Verona.”

He nodded. “So where do you come in? Lady Macbeth or Juliet?”

She shook her head and more tendrils fell. She was almost done unpinning her hair. “Neither. My dream is to play Kate in The Taming of the Shrew.”

He couldn’t remember what that one was about, but didn’t say so. “Who’s the leading man?” He half-expected her to say him.

“John Barrymore, if you must know,” she said. As unfastened another tress, spots of color appeared on her cheeks.

“Hmm,” he said. “Jack? I’d forget about him, he’s a woman-hater.” 

Hair all the way freed, Nelly hid her face as she shook it out. “You seem to like trampling my dreams.” She tossed her head back and gathered the curtain of hair over one shoulder with two hands, twisting it.

Buster felt a strange kind of way. Not jealous, that wasn’t quite it, but some kind of way he couldn’t put his finger on. “Trust me on this one. I’m doing you a favor. He drinks like a fish, too.”

“So do you,” she fired back, and he was at a momentary loss for words. He wouldn’t say ‘like a fish,’ but he had been at the bottle more than usual these past few months. He didn’t see how she could have known that though, having met him all of three times.

“Eat the rest of your toast,” he said, changing the subject. 

She stuck her tongue out at him, but had another bite. He watched her collect the bobby pins into one hand. She stood up somewhat unsteadily and placed them on the tea cart. “Safekeeping,” she mumbled.

He set the whiskey aside. “How are you feeling now?”

She squeezed her eyes closed. “I don’t suppose more coffee will help with the spinning? I’m starting to feel like I’m on a carnival ride.”

He had a sudden vision of her hurling on the leather seats of the Duesenberg and said, “Why don’t you sleep it off for a couple hours? You can take the bed and I’ll just stay up for now. I was in the middle of a book anyway.”

She looked ready to argue, but a jaw-splitting yawn interrupted her. “Only if I’m not imposing,” she said, after it had passed. Her eyes looked unfocused. 

“You’re not imposing,” he said. He knew a girl on the edge of collapse when he saw one. He stood up and offered his arm, and led her into the bedroom. The awkward question of what she would wear to bed was solved when she crawled underneath the blankets, dress and all. 

“G‘night, Buster,” she said, closing her eyes. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

After he left the bedroom, the memory of what he’d seen at the speak-easy replayed in his head. Jack Barrymore wasn’t the only woman-hater in pictures. The business was crawling with men, both bigwigs and lowlifes, ready to defile a girl at a moment’s notice. In fairness, it was also crawling with women willing to be defiled in order to get where they wanted to be, but Nelly, not a virgin but not a lewd drunk either, didn’t seem like one. He hoped that she took care of herself wherever she ended up.

Pretty soon his own eyes grew heavy. The idea of waking Nelly and lugging her down to the lobby, waiting for the car to be brought, then driving her all the way home did not sound in the least bit attractive, not to mention the danger of her being sick all over in the car. He pushed the tea cart into the hall so it could be collected and found a spare blanket in the wardrobe. With a wary eye on the sleeping figure in his bed, he took off his shirt and slacks, plucked a pillow from beside her, and settled into the cramped confines of the bedroom sofa. He was asleep before he knew it, dreaming that Peanuts had drowned during the flood sequence and that the papers were calling for him to be hanged. (Listen to the version of “Steamboat Bill” that Nelly dances to here.)

[wolfinshipclothing]

Summary: I need to hurry up, she kept thinking. Any minute now, her dad could come home early, tired from a lazy dayshift. Or her mom could drop with the excuse she forgot something, and use the opportunity to check out on her daughter. Her independent, smart and intelligent daughter. Then Connie would have to explain to her what said daughter was doing sitting on her bed, in her bathrobe, fresh from the shower, holding a blood-stained shirt over her forearm, with a pair of scissors resting at her side.

The same pair of scissors that went missing a month ago, by the way.

Excerpt:

But what about you? You never tell me what's up," said Steven and Connie perceived the sourness. "How's cram school going?"

"It's going," she said flatly.

"That's good. How about Lion? I haven't seen the little rascal since forever."

"You know him. He comes and goes as he pleases."

"Right, right." Silence. She wished Steven would stop asking questions and just talk. "Connie, are you alright? You sound a bit under the weather; and I am the one about to be soaked."

Steven's attempt at humor was ignored; the red lines over Connie's arm caught all her attention. There was not a discussion inside her head. There was a whole fucking debate, with a hundred people committee and a chairman that was chewing her nails as she waiting for the lunch break.

"I don't know," she said, choosing simple words.

"What do you mean? Did something happen or…?"

"It's just one of these days, you know?"

Steven's silence asked her to elaborate. The cuts of her arms seemed to shine brighter, mocking her for her weakness.

Welp, i came crawling back from my hole with this fic. Mind you its a very angsty, sensible fic bout self-harming and unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I wrote this because 1) its always Steven the one that is hurting and needs helps, and Connie the one who is there to put him back on his fic. Few times i have seen the opposite.

And 2) this has been a shitty year. To everyone in the world, obviously. Just have been very garbage to me. Or maybe I AM the one who was being garbage to myself. In any case, i haven’t been feeling well, and decided to write up my feelings into the characters i am currently hyper-fixating on.

Is it healthy? Who knows! But it DID made me feel better. I hope this fic, if it doesn’t trigger some catharsis in you guys, at least entertain you all for a while.

Anyway, that’s all. Happy Holidays and Happy New Year folks.

(You can also read it in Fanfiction, btw)

"You might imagine that a person would resort to self-mutilation only under extremes of duress, but once I'd crossed that line the first time, taken that fateful step off the precipice, then almost any reason was a good enough reason, almost any provocation was provocation enough. Cutting was my all-purpose solution." —Caroline Kettlewell, "Skin Game".

Connie’s mind was beyond herself; far, far away, where she couldn’t reach it. Her body was heavy; lead weight held together by rusted tin bolts. And Connie was trapped inside it, with no company but the stinging pain on her arm and the weight of the shirt she kept against it.

How long have I been like this? She wondered. It felt like hours. Her legs were like paper; where she not sitting on her bed, she would have already plummeted to the floor.

I need to hurry up, she kept thinking. Any minute now, her dad could come home early, tired from a lazy dayshift. Or her mom could drop with the excuse she forgot something, and use the opportunity to check out on her daughter. Her independent, smart and intelligent daughter. Then Connie would have to explain to her what said daughter was doing sitting on her bed, in her bathrobe, fresh from the shower, holding a blood-stained shirt over her forearm, with a pair of scissors resting at her side.

The same pair of scissors that went missing a month ago, by the way.

Connie lifted the shirt. The bleeding had stopped. The cuts were all dry out now —probably had been for a few minutes— but they still shined with a disgusting color. The marks from last time were underneath; red rivers over dried out canals. Feral slashes over healed scars.

Connie dropped her head onto her hands, elbows on her knees, and applied pressure over her temples. That usually helped her think.

“Stupid,” she said with a sore voice. “Stupid, stupid. You always do the same.”

Connie’s harming habit have come, less like a metaphorical descent into madness and more like a —also metaphorical— walk down a descending staircase, where each step would disappear behind you, leaving you no choice but to go further down, into the dark.

It gradually became a routine. If she’d messed up a test, she would spend all night studying the subject. If she’d snapped at her mom in a moment of hormonal-fueled rage, she would skip dinner —breakfast too, if possible. If she’d been so absorbed in her own world she’d ghosted her friends, she would train with her sword until her palms were all blistered. Small pinches of pain she could administer, in measurable doses and only when it was justified.

It was astounding how quickly she lost sight of what was measurable and justified.

But the real aggravating part of it, in Connie’s opinion, was how much of her time it takes. It’d taken her a whole morning of self-loathing for the static to take over her body. Once it did, she lost control and started attacking her outer forearm with swift, brutal slashes, instead of the controlled cuts she usually administered. When she saw what she’d done, she panicked and reached for her neatly folded white shirt. What a waste. She had barely bled a few fat drops, yet it was more than enough to ruin her favorite shirt.

She’d been quiet since then, holding the soon-to-be-rag over her arm and trying to grasp her slippery psyche at the same time. She could feel her body, but she wasn’t in it. Her brain was working itself to death, but she’d no control over its thoughts. Like Schrodinger’s cat, it was like she was there and not there at the same time. Alive and Dead. Connie has come to call this dissociative state ‘the limbo’. And she was knees deep in it now. And it must be past noon already!

If I could make my butt to get up and clean up this mess, maybe I could sit down and have some work done. Otherwise, this would be a lost day.

The thought loomed over her. A lost day. She couldn’t let that happen. Now she just had to find a way to get out of the fog of her mind…

The phone ringed. Connie as much as jumped from the bed, dropping the shirt and scissors on the floor. She reached for her phone on the table.

BISCUIT

Just left the hotel and hit the road. The engine sounds like it’s about to choke to death, tho. I hope it doesn’t break before reaching New Orleans. Call me when you have a break! Love you!

Connie sighed; her heart’s palpitations echoing in her ears. How ridiculous! Jumping to grab her phone as if she’d been caught. Like some bad horror movie; someone on the other side would said ‘you have been seen’ and then hang up, leaving Connie panicking like a fool. Ridiculous!

She grabbed the scissors and the shirt with one hand, the phone with the message she ought to respond in the other. She glanced at the bed; the sheets were wet, she ought to change those. Her arm was still stinging; she ought to treat the wounds. Also, she ought to get properly dressed. And her test was still on the desk, waiting for her…

Connie groaned and gravitated naturally towards the bed and felt into it. She’d never had trouble compartmentalizing before. She also had never been in the limbo this long before, however.

She found herself thinking of Steven; living on the open road, driving that tank with radio he calls ‘car’, doing whatever he wants, going whenever he wants to go —previously checking his rigorous list of places to go. Being whoever he wants to be.

This made Connie mad. She didn’t want to be mad. She rotated her phone in her hand several times, thinking.

I could call him, she thought. You are supposed to reach out when… in situations like this, right?

Her stomach grumbled with acid reflux. She definitely didn’t want to talk to Steven —nor anyone else, really. But hearing a friendly voice could be what she needs to get back on her feet.

She pressed the name on the screen and put the phone on speaker. It rang. Please don’t pick up, please don’t…

Schick.

“Hey Connie! What’s up?”

“Hey Steven. Are you busy?” she asked.

“Not at all. The road’s pretty calm. I think there is a storm coming though; there are some mean-looking clouds above me,” said Steven, a bit uncertain. “Are you on your break?”

In a manner of speaking. “Yeah. I just thought… you know, checking out on you.”

“Making sure I didn’t pick any new hitchhiker? I’ll let you know I haven’t done that since Miami Beach,” he laughed. “Seriously though, you should have seen the motel I crashed last night. ‘Sir-sleep-a-lot’ was the name, and it was great. There’d a real-looking imitation sword and shield above the bed! That’s the stuff you won’t see in any fancy-brand hotel.”

Connie smiled briefly. Despite everything that’d happened to Steven —and he really broke the limit of shit that could happen to a person—, he was still the same kind-hearted boy that got emotional over the simpler stuff.

“But what about you? You never tell me what’s up,” said Steven and Connie perceived the sourness. “How’s cram school going?”

“It’s going,” she said flatly.

“That’s good. How about Lion? I haven’t seen the little rascal since forever.”

“You know him. He comes and goes as he pleases.”

“Right, right.” Silence. She wished Steven would stop asking questions and just talk. “Connie, are you alright? You sound a bit under the weather; and I am the one about to be soaked.”

Steven’s attempt at humor was ignored; the red lines over Connie’s arm caught all her attention. There was not a discussion inside her head. There was a whole fucking debate, with a hundred people committee and a chairman that was chewing her nails as she waiting for the lunch break.

“I don’t know,” she said, choosing simple words.

“What do you mean? Did something happen or…?”

“It’s just one of these days, you know?”

Steven’s silence asked her to elaborate. The cuts of her arms seemed to shine brighter, mocking her for her weakness.

“I’m doing badly,” Connie said quickly. “I’m feeling real bad right now and I don’t even know why,” she added, only half-lying.

There was a long mmm on the other side of the line.

“Alright. I’m going home,” said Steven.

Connie’s heart started to race. “You can’t do that. You are driving... a-and your schedule-”

“I’ll just park on a side of the road. There are some nice trees I can park under. Then I’ll call Lion and be there in a flash.”

No, no, NO. “Steven, you really don’t have to.”

“It’s no problem at all! I want to be with you-“

“Steven, I don’t want to see you, OK!” Connie bolted upright, sitting on the bed. “Nobody asked you to do anything! Why do you always have to make things about yourself?”

Silence. A gust of wind came from the window, chilling Connie to the bones. She squeezed her left hand until it hurt. The scissors were still there. She glanced at her right arm; smooth and clean of any mark. Connie was right handed, but she could make an exception.

The thought alone shook her to her core, making her open her palm. The scissors felt with a clink-clank. She brought the phone closer to her face.  

“Please,” Connie muffled a choke with her free hand, “please don’t go. Can you just talk to me?”

More silence, and there was a moment in which Connie knew ‘this is it, my best friend hates me forever’. But then there was a sliding noise, and the rumble of dirt being removed. There was also a distant boom; a storm was about to drop.

“I stopped the car,” said Steven. “I’m here for you, if you want.”

Great. It’s not like that’ll deepen Connie’s guilt.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated. Dark walls were closing around her, and the only source of light was her phone and the person on the other side. Obstinate tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Please don’t say that. I know… you know that’s not true,” Steven measured each word as he spoke. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, “I’m just being a big baby, that’s all.” No answer. He’s not gonna make it easy for her, is he? “I’m mad. Really mad.”

“Mad at me?”

Connie grumbled as an answer. She heard Steven’s struggle to swallow.

“Right. Not about me.”

“Exactly,” she said, although it was a half truth.

“I’m mad at myself,” she proceeded. “I’m mad because I fail at everything I do.” Connie took several breaths. Here comes the bomb: “I flunked at my practice college entrance test.”

More silence.

“Go on,”

“Aren’t you gonna say its stupid?” she asked cautiously. She’d expected a scoff, a snicker. Maybe even some laughter.

“I’m listening,” Steven insisted.

Connie tried to put some verbal sense in the ball yarn that was her mind.

“I really flunked it, you know,” she said, waiting —hoping— for a reprimand. “Even the stuff that I’ve studied and re-studied.”

“But it was just a practice test. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means everything, Steven,” she cried. “If I’d taken it today, I would have gotten a garbage grade.”

Connie cleaned the tears away with the back of her hand. The gust coming from the window was making her shiver. Her wet hair and the soaked sheets were not helping either.

“It like everything I had done, all the hard work I put into it was for nothing,” she said. “Everything feels so pointless.”

“I don’t think it was,” said Steven, carefully. “Even if you failed, you still practiced for the real one. Don’t give up. Going to college was your dream.”

“Was it? I don’t really know.” Connie bit her lip. “No, that’s a lie. I do want to go to college. I just wonder if it’s worth it. I mean, what’s the point of trying so hard if I fail anyway? Do you have any idea how many nights I lost for this? O-or how many times I had to put my friends on hold because I was busy studying?”

She stopped. She felt as if her breath was stolen from her.

“Of course you do,” she sighed. “And it was all for nothing. I failed at this as I fail at everything else.”

“What is ‘everything else’?”

Her blood was freezing cold, as was her answer. “You know.”

There it was again; the roar of thunder, followed by the sound of a million drops falling down. It was starting to rain somewhere.

“Connie,” said Steven, on the verge of shattering. “Have you been thinking about Homeworld?”

Connie clenched her free hand, her teeth, and everything else that required physical exertion.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be.”

“I know I have no right to feel bad about it. You are the one who suffered the most from it-”

She was cut by her own throat shutting down, and for a moment only tiny hiccups came out. There was a blinding, white rage inside her. It commanded her to grab her sword and slash, lunge and cut all her problems away. But she didn’t. She stood still and cried.

“But I was there too. I saw what White did to you and I couldn’t do anything.” Connie gasped for air. “I trained so hard for nothing. When you needed me I… I failed you.” She stopped to gasp and clean her tears. “H-how can I know I won’t be a mess in everything else I do, that I won’t flunk on my first year of college? Studying was the only thing I was good at and… and I’m not even good at it anymore and just…”

She stopped to let the tears roll freely. It was too much; too much weight, too many tears. Everything was in the air now. All her failures, all her fears, like an enveloping toxic cloud around her; it’d always been there, but now someone else could see it. In the middle of her wailing, she caught Steven’s concerned voice.

“Connie, can you hear me?”

It could be easy to hang up now, forget this ever happened, and call back when she was strong and put together. ‘Hey Steven, sorry about that, everything is better now’. But Connie couldn’t do that —not to him. She mumbled a reply.

“Alright. I want you to breathe with me, OK? Can you do that?”

Well, that’s easy for him to ask. He’s not the one hyperventilating. And to think many times she’d said the same, when Steven was going through a panic attack. How the turntables indeed.

She knew the instructions to the letter, but she coordinated them to Steven’s voice. Four seconds inspiration. Hold it for seven seconds. Eight seconds exhalation. They repeated it until every corner of Connie’s mind was occupied with this routine.

“Feeling better?” Steven asked.

Connie noticed she wasn’t crying anymore and with one last sniff she said: “A bit.”

“Good. Now I want you to listen,” said Steven. “First, just because I was the one who was attacked doesn’t mean I got the monopoly on trauma.” He stopped to see if his joke caused any effect. ”What I mean to say is, that day was… it was a literal hell for all of us. Maybe more to me than to the gems, but it was so for you too because, like you said, you were there with me.”

“Which brings me to the second point: nothing of what happened in Homeworld, or that happened to me, to us, was your fault,” Steven said, firmly and fluently, like a practiced speech. “And there was nothing you could have done to prevent it. I know you are mad because you couldn’t take a swing at White’s giant nose…”

Connie laughed. She imagined Steven raising a triumphant fist into the air.

“But you did help me. You carried me to… to me! If I’m alive now, it’s because of you. And I should…” Steven stopped. Connie could see him, hand on his mouth, trying to hold the tears back and be the rock she needed. She knew that feeling too well. “I should’ve told before how much you did to me. You saved my life back then, a-and then you saved me again, months ago, when I got corrupted.”

Connie gasped. Steven never brought that topic unprompted, and he never called it for what it was. It was always ‘the incident’.

“You were there for me since day one,” Steven laughed dryly. “Actually, I should be the one apologizing. You had to go through all of that because of me.”

“I wanted to do it,” Connie retorted. “I wanted to go through all of that with you.”

“That doesn’t make it right. It wasn’t fair.”

Connie huffed. They were scratching the surface of a deeper conversation. Because Connie was mad for wanting to go to Homeworld so bad, and for all the times her life was in danger before that. And she was mad at her parents —what were they thinking? They shouldn’t have let Connie run around with a sword, fighting a war that wasn’t her own; they should have locked her up until she was eighteen. Damn, she was mad at the whole Universe for needing to be saved. They were kids! Stupid kids who didn’t knew better than to take such a task over their shoulders.

And deep down, in a corner she dared not to look, she was mad at Steven. Because from the first day they meet, he chose her. To be his friend, his partner-in-crime, his… And in an even deeper place, Connie was mad at herself. Because she had chosen Steven too, and if it came to it, she would do it all again. Back then, in the middle of the chaos, with the fear of death and the threat of the destruction of the Earth as her everyday bread and butter, life made sense.

But now the war was over, and the books Connie studied so much felt as unreal as any fantasy novel. How do you go back to being normal after having a destiny?

Connie let her head fall back and softly touch the wall. She was far too tired to shine light on those darks corners. She just wanted to rest. She was half-way napping when Steven’s voice brought her back.

“Connie? Connie, are you there? Please talk to me.”

Connie slapped herself awake. “I’m here Steven. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she said, as convinced as anything. “How about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But I do.”

“Well I… I worry about you!” Steven protested. “So I guess we are in a loop here.”

That comment wasn’t particularly funny, but Connie started to laugh; a short, weak laugh that grew up to be a roar. On the other side, Steven laughed too.

“Oh man. This sure feels familiar doesn’t it?” said Steven, and eased a bit on the laughter. “I guess you are better at making me feel better than I am doing it for you.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself so short. I do feel better. A little,” she confessed. “I’m sorry you had to deal with me being dumb. I don’t know what came over me.”

Steven was quiet for a while. When he spoke again, it was with the clearness of a professor giving class.

“Connie, do you remember one of the first things Dr. A. told me when I started therapy?

“Life sucks?” She heard Steven breathing raggedly, trying not to laugh.

“That is the first thing,” he said in a short breath, “but I mean the second first thing.”

Connie scratched her head. “The thing about the pond?”

“The frozen lake,” he corrected. “She said that, for people with depression —not saying you have it— or have gone through some trauma —again, not pointing fingers—, anxiety is like a frozen lake. Every day you bring new problems to the lake; little, everyday stuff that’s not too heavy. Then some days you bring heavier stuff, and the ice starts to crack, but you don’t notice because you hide the heavy stuff under the lighter stuff. Finally one day, you bring a new little problem and you put it on top of the pile. You know what happens next?”

“The ice breaks?”

“It breaks,” said Steven, like a satisfied lecturer. “It breaks and you fall in the frozen water, with all of that heavy shit you have been hiding.”

Connie’s hand grabbed the front of her bathrobe. She was still not used to hearing Steven Cutie Pie DeMayo Universe curse —even if she was the one who taught him the coolest words (besides Amethyst, of course).

“I remember the story now,” Connie scratched her head, feeling the hard knots of her hair. “I always thought it was a bit complex as a metaphor.”

“My point is-“

“Why not use a house of cards? Every anxious thought is a new card, and as you pile them up, the house loses stability. Finally, one day, it just falls under its own weight,” Connie explained with renewed vigor. “See? It paints a much clearer picture.”

“The point, Miss Wiseguy,” grunted Steven, and Connie could see him folding his arms. “Is that if you don’t want the ice to break-“

“Or the house of cards to fall.”

“Or the house of cards to fall,” he conceded, “you have to deal with that heavy stuff before you are overwhelmed. You don’t need to do that now,” he added, predicting her complain. “But at some point, you will need to talk to someone. Your parents or your friends… Or I can give you Dr. A.’s number. She knows everything we went through.”

“That ought to save me some time,” she said. “Maybe she’ll give me a discount card of ‘Friends of Steven Universe’.”

“See? Now you are being positive,” Steven laughed.

Connie smiled sadly. “What about you?”

“I’ll always be here for you. By phone, video chat, or to visit you… If you want me to,” he whispered that last part.

“Only if you promise to not turn into a Kaiju when we start exposing my inner demons.”

“Ha ha,” he said robotically. “I’ll assume by your sarcasm that you are the same old Berry now.”

Connie mulled about it for a few seconds. The cloud of anxiety was slowly banishing, and she no longer felt the claustrophobic walls closing around her.

“Yes, I’m good now. Thanks to yo-aaah” a loud, long yawn took over her. “Sorry. Guess I’m more worn out than I thought.”

“Yeah, I can tell… Have you really not been sleeping at all?”

“Unless you count passing out of tiredness as sleeping,” she joked.

“Ah,” said Steven. “Have you been, well… you know?”

Connie didn’t answer. She knew what he meant, but she’d no voice to say it.

“Connie, have you been hurting yourself?”

“This conversation is hurting me.”

“Connie.”

The phone vibrated and got hot to the touch, before cooling down real fast. Connie’s head vibrated too, like a snow globe being shaken. Steven’s control over electric devices had been growing.

She lifted her arm to look at the cuts; they still stung, although she hasn’t been paying attention to it. All the slashes were dry and had a dull color.

Fuck it, why not?

“Just a few cuts,” she said flatly, “with my mom’s scissors.”

There was silence for a while, but Steven’s was still there; his breath was ragged and odd. Has he turned pink? Did Connie throw him into a panic attack?

Finally, he spoke: “Connie, I need you to do me a favor.”

Oh boy, that doesn’t sound good at all. “What is it?”

“Throw those scissors away.”

Connie pursed her lips. “Steven, I can’t do that. My mom would be mad,” she said, although it was a poor excuse. If Connie cared about her mother’s feelings, she wouldn’t have stolen the scissors in the first place.

  “I know. I don’t pretend to tell you what to do,” he said, measuring his words like a baker measures flour, “but it’s something that helped me a lot. I mean, when I was in a bad place, I would go into these blank moments when I wasn’t thinking at all.” Connie nodded. He was talking about the limbo. “When I started therapy, I was told to try to be more conscious of myself. More present. So when I felt I was, you know, getting in the mood,” Steven groaned at his own choice of words, “I would take a step back and do something different. We can’t always control our situation or our mood or even our actions, but we can make small changes to have some power over ourselves.”

The way Steven spoke in plural said that he wasn’t doing vain motivational talk; he was talking from a place he’d been in… and maybe still was. Connie remembered sitting on Steven’s bed, trying to cheer him up to eat or step outside and get some fresh air. She also remembered coming home, locking herself in the bathroom and taking a long shower while she cried.

Connie held onto that thought and sat on the bed. She picked the scissors with her free hand and put that memory in them. She also put the memories of White Diamond, the monsters’ attack on Beach City, the arguments with her mother. All her anger, her insecurities, her fear of not knowing who she was— she grabbed all of it and put it into a ball, one she was carrying in her throwing hand. She extended her arm all the way behind her back. And when the wind blew the curtains opens, she propelled her arm forward like a whip.

The scissors —and metaphorical ball— broke free of her hand, made a straight line and finally flew out of the window; out of sight.

Connie stood still, catching her breath. The first thing she noticed was that her chest, while still swelling with anger, felt notably lighter. The second thing was Steven’s voice calling her from the phone. The final thing she noticed made her scream:

“Holy shit!”

“What? What happened?” she heard Steven calling to her.

“I threw the scissors out of the window!”

“…WHAT?”

Connie dashed towards the window, holding her bathtub with her free hand, and stuck her head outside.

“Is everyone ok?”

“Yeah… yeah I think so,” said Connie with a relieved breath. “The street is desert at this time. Anyway, I think I can see the scissors. They felt right by the trash can, so maybe I accidentally stabbed a rat?”

Steven was hyperventilating, but he took a break from it to scoff at her. “Now is no time for jokes, missy! Oh man… you could have killed someone! Why did you do that?”

“Because you told me to, you dumb-dumb!”

“I didn’t tell you to throw a sharp object out of the window, you dumb-dumb!”

Connie shook her head. “Forget it, I don’t want to fight.” She leaned against the wall and let gravity slid her to the floor.

“Me neither,” said Steven. The sound of rain was quieter now. “At least did that helped?”

“Yes. Almost killing innocent bystanders always cheers me up.”

“That’s my girl,” Steven laughed and so did Connie, albeit weaker.

Still, she felt better. Her body was recharging energy quickly and her mind was emerging from whatever black hole it had been hiding in.

“I think I can go on with my day now,” she said and she meant it.

“Are you sure?” Steven asked. Connie reaffirmed her decision. “Well, that’s awesome. So… would it be cool if I drop by and check on you?”

Connie’s heart started to race up again as the anxiety came back. Check on you. Like she was sick and she needed to be taken care of.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” she said, firmly. “But later. Definitely later. I’ll call you.”

“But I… OK. Alright, w-we’ll talk later then.”

Steven sounded really bummed out, but Connie could pay it no mind now, lest she wanted to feel down the whole again. “Thanks for everything. And I’m sorry I made you stop in the middle of a storm,” she said.

“Oh it’s not so bad. Kinda weird though,” said Steven. “You know, usually you hide from the rain, lock yourself inside and look at it from the window of your house. But I’m under it right now. The sky is falling around me but I’m as dry as clean clothes. And, I don’t know, it’s beautiful. It makes you appreciate everything there is, even stuff that’s supposed to be ugly. Does it make sense?”

The words struck something deep inside Connie, but whatever meaning Steven was trying to transmit was ignored. She was not in the mood for lessons right now.

“I know what you mean,” she swiftly said. “So I guess I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright then. Please be safe. And call me.”

“I will.”

“Ok… I love you.”

Connie blushed. “Goodbye.” She cut the call. She should have said something else, something more. She didn’t know why she had been in such a rush to hang up.

She just knew saying ‘I love you’ was easier when they weren’t dating.

  With one long, invigorating breath, Connie stood up. She stretched her arms over her head until her bones cracked, then she bended and touched her finger toes until her legs were burning.

With the sudden rush of adrenaline, thinking became easier. The rage was gone and her chest didn’t feel as heavy. Connie has left the limbo, at least for now.

She looked for her phone. Her last study break was one hour ago. Most of that time had been spent talking to Steven. So much time —hers and his— wasted in vain…

Alright Connie, compartmentalize. There’s a lot to do. What comes first? She asked herself. Well, her red, stinging arm would be a good starting point. She headed for her bedroom’s bathroom and closed the door shut.

The bathroom was still mildly warm from the shower she took. The first aid kit was where she left it; resting over the sink, opened. It’s where Connie usually hid the scissors. She hung the bathrobe on a perch and checked the cuts on the mirror. They ran deeper than Connie’s usual handiwork, so she applied the process she used for her training injuries. Soap and water to wash the wounds. Dry well, apply antiseptic to prevent infection and then bandage the whole thing, from the elbow to the wrist. She’ll have to change the bandages after tomorrow at least.

Some petroleum jelly could help the wound heal faster and prevent scarring, and Connie’s mom had some in her first aid kit but she discarded that thought. Explaining to her mom how she got these wounds was out of question.

Connie was about to put the kit away when an idea hit her. She brought the bandages out and applied them over her right arm —her clean, unharmed right arm. There; now if anyone, be it her mom or her friends asked, she could appeal to a training accident. And if her mom wants to check the wound herself, Connie will show her the right arm. Her mom will comment on how well the injury had healed, or she’ll simply believe Connie was overreacting to a minor rash. In any case, she’ll be none of the wiser.

Connie looked at herself in the mirror —naked, except for the bandaged arms. Her reflection smiled sadly. You think you are so cunning, don’t you?

With that done, she left the kit over the sink and tiptoed into her cold room. She went to the wardrobe and chose a long sleeved shirt, some jogging pants, and a sweater.

Next thing were the sheets. They were soaked; perfect to catch pneumonia. Connie started to take them off. She stopped and instead she left her room —with the same feeling as Robinson Crusoe leaving his island—, and headed for the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of juice and drank it like an old man in the desert. She poured another glass and headed back upstairs.

Once in her bedroom, she took off the sheets, rolled them all into a ball and poured the orange juice over the sheets, with extra care as to not wet the mattress. The textile absorbed the juice like a sponge. Finally, she went back downstairs, threw the sheets into the dishwasher and set it on. In the unlikely event her mom questioned Connie about her dropping a glass of juice on the bed; Connie only had to point at the orange colored stains.

They’ll disappear after a few washes, anyway. Ironically, the marks on Connie’s arm might last longer. She entertained the idea of putting her shirt to wash, but she scratched it off. Being a doctor’s daughter, she knew blood stains were a pain to get rid of.

Satisfied with what she had accomplished, Connie’s heart gave a little thud as she approached the door. She didn’t feel like going for a walk, but she’d to recover the, sort of speak, crime’s weapon. She stepped outside and walked aimlessly around the sidewalk for a minute, looking for the scissors. She found them on the floor right next to the trash can. Five inches left and they would have landed on top of the trash. It really makes your mind think.

Or someone else’s mind. Not Connie’s. She didn’t have time to metaphors.

She knelt to pick the scissors. And then she saw them; or rather, they saw her. On the other side of the street, a young couple crossed sights with her. They keep their glance on her for less than five seconds before walking away, laughing. It was enough to throw Connie down a hole. Eyes seemed to materialize out of thin air, staring faces, judgmental glances; all of them pointing at Connie. All of them knew what she’d done. She’d been seen.

Connie dashed inside the house and slammed the door behind her. She felt to the ground, short of breath. That couple must be on their way now, totally oblivious of the effect they caused on Connie, and she can’t blame them; she couldn’t predicted that either. Her social anxiety had been tame for so long, Connie thought it was a thing of the past. That’s another thing to scratch out of her accomplishments list.

Nevertheless Connie had the scissors in her shaking hands, and all she wanted was to put them away.

She stood up and moved around the house exhausted. She picked a pair of clean sheets and went back to her room. She locked the door, shut down the windows and closed the curtains. She breathed out loudly. Now she was unseen and nobody could judge her.

She set the clean sheets on the bed. A strong scent of lavender hit her. Finally, she went to the bathroom; put the scissors inside the first aid kit, under everything else, and put the kit on the back of the cabinet, until next time.

Next time… now that was an upsetting thought.

With everything else done, she just had to get rid of the shirt. She had second thoughts about washing it, since throwing it away would be complicated. Feeling a headache incoming, Connie opened her closet and threw the bloody rag inside. It wasn’t like her to postpone things, but… who was she kidding? This is standard Connie’s stress dealing procedure.

Connie looked at everything she’d done, and felt at peace for the first time that day. Then her eyes felt onto her standing mirror.

Oh no, this won’t do, she thought, meaning her hair. More specifically, the crow nest that had taken over her head and that she usually called hair.

She grabbed her blue hairbrush. Her hair was so entangled the regular ministrations won’t do, so she attacked it with brutal brushing motions. In the meantime, her mind kept producing images. Steven under the heavy rain, checking the soaked engine that broke down when he stopped to talk to her. The disappointed glance of her mom when she finds out all the scheming Connie went through to hide the truth. Her own hands shaking with anxiety as she takes the real test and she realizes she doesn’t know any answers.

She set the brush down. There. Now the image in the mirror was presentable —although some days, Connie wasn’t sure if it was really hers.

“I’m alright,” she said, with a voice that felt alien even to her. “I’ll be fine. I’m a warrior,” she added, more convinced with each word.

She was a warrior. Maybe she’d lost her center, but she could find it. She could be strong again. Once she gets a grip of herself and gets into college, everything will be alright.

Right? Right.

With this new resolution, Connie walked to her worktable. Her failed test was still there. Next to it was the half-done new test she had been working on when the static became too much.

Now, she could keep working and pretend all of this never happened. That this was just a very long study break, that everything she did was normal and healthy. It’s what she was expected to do, right?

Once again she thought of Steven, taking time from his trip to sit down under a deluge to talk to her. Breathe with her, as if they were one.

Connie’s hand reached towards the test… And then went left, grabbed the nearest book and dropped it over the papers.

This can wait… she thought, uncertain.

“This can wait,” she verbalized defiantly to the World.

With that problem done for, she had a free afternoon. She tapped her chin —she hasn’t had this free time in a while.

She picked her phone and flipped through the library. There was this reboot of ‘Crying Breakfast Friends’ that Steven had been bugging her to watch, but she’d been rain checked until she could pass the test. Maybe it’s time to keep the study waiting. She shuddered at that inch of her rebellious younger self taking over.

She picked her earphones and lay comfortable on her fresh, lavender-scented sheets. Five minutes into the first episode and she was cackling and crying with a cartoon about animated fruits while her papers —her physical future— waited on the table. And they’ll keep waiting until tomorrow.

Connie didn’t know if this was a step forward or backwards. But a step’s a step nonetheless; and she was still moving. 

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XIII

December 28, 2277.

“Wait. Enclave? What the hell is an enclave?” Butch asks, brows furrowing.

“In this context, they’re the other group of power-armored assholes running the other radio station with patriotic music, and fancies themselves as the United States of America, though I think they really are what remained of the USA. They’re also the bitches responsible for my dad’s death, so there’s that,” Percy tells him.

“Holy shit,” DeLoria murmurs, throwing back another shot. “Hey hey wait, how do you know that? I didn’t pay much attention to history class but I don’t remember Mr. Brotch mentioning anything about the American government going all psycho with power armor.”

Percy pauses, brow wrinkling. “Dad mentioned something when I was younger, about how some of the history books we study as kids didn’t paint the entire picture, and when we were reunited in the wasteland, at some point when one of his scientists switched to the Enclave radio during dinner, he asked her to turn it off. Said it was run by fascists that came from a failed pre-war government.”

“But how does your old man know about that when the vault was sealed- oh. Oh right. The Overseer lied to us.” Butch finally gets it. “Damn.”

“Yeah, and look at where that got us. I always suspected that things weren’t always what it seemed. Plus, the truth slips out of Old Lady Palmer’s mouth whenever she mentions dad “arriving” in the vault. My doubts were confirmed when I looked through Almodovar’s terminal, before I opened the door. There were scouting reports. Pictures of giant ants.”

The bartender serves Percy another shot and she gulps it down before resuming her story. The number of cigarettes in DeLoria’s box is dwindling, and so did mine.

“Then when I got to Megaton, some of the locals knew about the brainwashing stuff, and all the pieces of the puzzle fell in place. Finding out that dad was parroting the Overseer’s propaganda hurt. The worst part is? I haven’t forgiven him before he died.”

“I um… I’m sorry, Perce.”

My friend shrugs at DeLoria. “It is what it is. I miss him already. He’d know what to do. I wish I didn’t argue with him before those assholes...”

A sniff resounded in the mostly empty bar. Soft cries escaped Percy’s lips, tears streaming down her red face. I wanted to offer an arm, a hand, anything , but DeLoria already wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Right. Great. That’s probably for the better. Sticking my non-existent nose in her business is becoming a dangerous habit.

Last night was probably a mistake.

“Okay, I think you had enough alcohol for the night,” the barkeep announces, and takes the scotch away. “The two of you, make sure she sleeps it off.”

“Hey Butch, you said you were gonna start a new gang, right? May I suggest ‘Our Dads Got Fucking Killed by Fascists’ for the name? We three could be the first members,” Percy slurred in between sobs. How she can find humor in the situation is beyond me.

“Yeah, she’s wasted alright,” Butch mumbles. “Hey, um, I don’t exactly have caps on me yet. Is Perce gonna pay the tab?”

I scoffed, fishing around Percy’s pack to pay off our bill. After tossing a few caps to the old lady, I helped Percy to her feet, and so did DeLoria. It was a struggle. I am a few inches shy of seven feet, DeLoria’s around six, and Percy is just a little taller than five. DeLoria looks at me with a weary smile. The two of us did the best we can to ensure this small girl doesn’t land face-first into the ship’s metal flooring. Us both being inebriated and Dogmeat bumping into us every three seconds did not help. I heard a patron that frequents the bar snicker at the sight of us, a girl about Percy’s age with the shittiest pigtails I’ve ever seen. On a human, anyway.

“Y’know what? Just carry her,” said Butch, rubbing the back of his neck. “This isn’t working. I need to get some shuteye for my first day as a barber tomorrow too. See you two around.”

“Goodnight, Butch,” Percy slurs, half of her ass leaning on a nearby table for support.

I nodded at the greaser and he left the premises, the confidence in his gait replaced with drunk swaying and awkwardness. Gathering our gear, I carried Percy’s pack and weapons on my back, then I swept her off her feet in a bridal carry.

She’s gotten lighter.

“Hey, big guy,” slurs Percy, hiccuping. “You do know that I am -hic- perfectly capable of walking, right?”

“The last time you said that, you almost fell off the boat.” I started heading towards the exit.

My friend sighs, shaking her head in resignation. “I might as well enjoy riding you then.”

I froze in my spot. The girl with the shitty hair snorted her drink and outright laughed at us. I couldn’t bring my eyes to look at Percy but I know that she’s even redder now, and she felt a few degrees warmer in my arms.

She stammers, slightly flailing. “I mean, I might as well enjoy you- the ride! I might as well enjoy the ride! Dammit!”

“Sleep it off, Percy.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” the bartender barked at us. “Get the fuck out of my bar and go hump each other someplace else. I’m closing shop.”

We left in a hurry.

Percy was breathing softly, seemingly asleep when we arrived in the Weatherly Hotel, the only clean place to sleep on the boat, where we were greeted by the owner and a Mr. Handy. Beside her, the boy we rescued and brought from Grayditch stands up and runs to us.

“Hey! You two came to visit! Whoa, what happened to her? Is she hurt?” the boy exclaims.

“She’s fine, just tired. We need a room.”

“Hi, Bryan,” Percy slurs. She wasn’t asleep after all. “Shouldn’t you be asleep already?”

The owner smiles. “She’s right, Bryan. Off to bed.”

“Aw. Aunt Vera, I wanna hang out with Percy and Charon more.”

“You can do that tomorrow when Percy is feeling better,” Vera replies, and she nods to us. She had the room unlocked and I stepped in, placing Percy on the bed, and I dumped our gear on the floor. I locked the door behind us afterwards.

While I made sure nothing was out of place, Percy was sloshing water in her mouth, which she spat in a bucket. Staying clean even when she cannot take a full bath are some of her habits and rituals that I got used to. They’re probably good ones. She’s not resistant to disease like I am.

I turned to check on Percy. She had stripped down to her underwear, glasses haphazardly tossed to the bed.

The alcohol in my system is impairing my judgment. I should be turning around and should not be watching Percy tend to herself, but I just watched her. Life in the wasteland claimed some of her softness, and she had a few scars here and there, but she’s still attractive. Her legs are toned from all the walking we do, and her shoulders slightly are wider than her hips. When she turns around though, her behind is… something else.

Wait.

I’m looking at her bare ass.

I need to turn around. I need to turn around, but my body isn’t letting me. I can feel myself tenting at the crotch of my pants. This isn’t good.

When she turned to me, naked, swaying, and smiling, I thought I was in another dream, but I felt her warm breath and I know I’m awake. Things are happening too fast. My eyes dared to meet hers, then it trails below, to her small erect nipples, wet and shiny from her half-bath, and the dark patch of fuzz between her legs.

Damn it. I wanted to claim her. Act on the fantasies I have about her on nights that my body was too warm for my own liking. Put those nipples in my mouth. Bury my face between her legs. Pin her against the bed and make sure the entire boat hears her cry out my name.

“Big guy. Come to bed with me?”

But I hear the slur in her speech, and it took all of my willpower to shake my head.

“No. Percy. You’re drunk,” I say to her firmly.

“And?”

“I don’t want you to do things you’ll regret later, and I do not want to take advantage of your vulnerability.”

“Wait, who said anything about- I just want to sleep next to you again, Charon.”

“Naked?”

Mouth open and brows furrowed, she looks at herself, and curses. “I am- oh no, I am so sorry, holy shit,” Percy apologizes. “Fuck. Fuck! Stupid ass drunk idiot! I’m never drinking again,” she says to herself.

“Keep your voice down. I’ll go look for something you can wear.”

“Dammit, Charon I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to harass you like this, oh my God-”

“I do not feel harassed, but I appreciate the apology. Now, refrain from making any more noise,” I tell her, and I reach into her pack. A flimsy red nightgown was the last thing I expected.

“Percy, is this fine? This will not protect you from the cold much.”

She looks at me, then at the thing, and snatches it from my hand. “Yes! Um, thank you Charon. I found it when we were looting and-”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Percy. Get dressed.”

She nods, turning around and dressing herself, then she clears her throat. “All clear. Your turn.”

I cleaned up and changed into something more suitable for sleeping, Percy’s back in sight, her arms wrapped around herself, shivering. When I finished changing, I got in bed.

We lay on the bed next to each other, but she seems so far away.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“Charon. I don’t want you to think that I’m like some of your former employers who, uh, used you for your body.”

“I don’t think of you that way.”

“That’s a relief. You’re important to me.”

I look at her, and she’s facing me now, eyes soft and filled with a feeling I cannot describe. “Thank you. You are important to me too.”

Burying her face in my chest, she wraps an arm around my waist. I pulled the covers over us, and I held her.

“Night. Love you.”

February 7, 2278.

Two days after DeLoria’s first visit, he came over again. He brought with him a few of Percy’s belongings from Megaton, including Dogmeat’s teddy bear. The mistress entrusted a copy of the house key to the greaser, much to my dismay, but the dog has been restless without Mr. Bubbles and having it back gave me some relief.

It smells more like dog slobber now than it did Percy, but Dogmeat is still comforted by it. He misses her. I miss her too.

Dr. Li said she is getting better, but she’s still cautious. The doctor told me to not have too much hope; she had seen patients seemingly recover only for them to crash after a few days. It scares me. I wouldn’t know what to do with my life if Percy dies.

Dammit, I don’t want to think about that. She is going to live. Percy is a tough gal.

At this point, only Dr. Li, the greaser, and I are allowed in Percy’s room. She caught one of the scribes she entrusted attempting to extract blood from my partner without her authorization. I know something’s up, but the doctor isn’t budging. What is she hiding from the Brotherhood about my partner?

One of these days, I might need to confront her.

Smoking isn’t allowed in Percy’s room, so DeLoria and I just chewed bubblegum in silence while I maintained our equipment. I sorted out Percy’s change of clothes, came across that flimsy red sleepwear, and tucked it under her other belongings, what’s left of my skin burning hot. I’m doing my best not to let my mind wander to that night. Butch is fiddling with his Pip-Boy, identical to the one my partner owns, and I sigh in relief in knowing that he didn’t see me touch that thing. He already has several wrong ideas.

While I was hastily putting it away, a slip of paper fell.

It turned out to be a photograph. She found a camera when we stormed Paradise Falls, to save some kids. I remember the look on her face when Little Lamplight’s brat of a mayor told them that slavers took their friends.  We ended up opening the slave pens and trashing the place. Percy and I told them to find Hannibal Hamlin in the Washington Monument. Meeting Hamlin was one of my nicer memories from the past few months.

I’d do anything to see the determined gleam in her eye again.

I look at the photograph. It’s of me and the dog. Why would Percy keep something like this?

In the photo, I am asleep, taking a nap on the couch, and the dog was laying on my chest, looking at my partner behind the camera. I flipped it over, and there was some writing on it. Months of being taught by Percy paid off. She taught an old dog new tricks: I learned how to read.

“1-13-2278. Charon and Dogmeat.” This was two days after we got rid of my contract.  “The two loves of my life, after scotch,” she wrote under that. There’s a hollow heart drawn next to it.

I snort at the caption, knowing Percy’s sense of humor. Calling me Mr. Dreamboat, joking that I am her boyfriend… hell, she managed to freak out a few of the bigots in Tenpenny Tower with it once.

Now that I’ve thought about it… the playful nicknames, the touching, the concern, her putting me above herself, the trust she puts in me, the “love you” she mumbled while piss-wasted when I slept next to her in Rivet City; how did I miss all the signs?

Was I too taken in by the belief that smoothskins cannot harbor these feelings for ghouls? What did that damn kiss in the rotunda mean?

Does she even know the consequences of that kiss? If blondie wakes up and tattles to the Brotherhood about the Lone Wanderer kissing her ghoul bodyguard before running inside the chamber, it will ruin her. They might treat her even worse than before. My fears of people hurting her because of being associated with me gets worse as the days pass. There are so many things I want to ask her, so many things I want to talk about, but she’s still lying there, unconscious, under life support.

This can’t be the way things end.

Does she love me the way I love her?

I just want to know my place in her life.

[moonlitonyxandopal]

SH Scribbles #3

An: It's kinda long, but you'll like it. I promise. Please bear with my errors, and thank you in advance. Xoxo

Walking aimlessly for hours, he later realized that he was at the edge of Konoha City. The Great Naruto Bridge was at sight. His onyx eyes darted from left to right.

Light posts were illuminating the whole bridge. Sasuke stood against the railings, inhaling the december breeze, feeling the coldness of the night. He was there to jump, to end his dreadful life. In between of deep inhales and exhales, he closed his eyes then jumped.

But he didn't heard splashes of water, or didn't even get soaked. He felt someone grab his body, cold and slender arms hugging him from behind. He didn't know who, or what it was but he knew it was struggling to lift him up. He grudgingly opened his tired eyes sideways, then narrowed it slowly to focus on who prolonged his agony.

To his surprise, it was a woman. A woman with long, dark colored hair that reached her waist. She was wearing a long, light colored sleeveless dress that reached her struggling knees. His head titled when he found out that she wasn wearing sandals that are soaking wet. But it didn't bother him.

The woman managed to bring Sasuke back to safety, to the other side of the railings. "Please, don't do that again." She requested in between ragged breathing. "I never lifted anyone heavier than-"

"Why did you stopped me?!" Sasuke needed to handle his anger management issues as soon as possible.

"Hi! My name is Hinata." She deadpanned. "What's yours?" She offered her hand. He frowned as his eyes darted to her hand. Her head bobbed lightly, and shook her hand slightly. She was persistent, while he was getting frustrated. But in the end, Hinata smiled wider as Sasuke shook his hand with hers. In between grunts and sighs, he introduced himself. "Sasuke."

The two eventually got to know well together that night. They visited a 24/7 coffee shop which Hinata insisted on Sasuke to try. He ordered food and drinks for two but the cashier was confused on why would he order that. He argued with the cashier that he have company outside. The cashier nonchalantly accepted his order then prepared for it.

As the food came, Sasuke saw Hinata thanked the waiter but the waiter didn't managed to look at her. The waiter left then he stared at her. "Let's eat!" Hinata exclaimed as she clasped her hands.

Sasuke was on his fifth or sixth spoon when he noticed that Hinata didn't even touched her food. He raised an eyebrow as he finished his sixth spoon of food. Hinata covered her mouth as she made an excuse. "Oh, I'm not really hungry, nor thirsty."

"Okay then. More food for me." Sasuke remarked. Then they left the shop as soon he finished eating, and drinking.

They visited another 24/7 diner which Hinata insisted on Sasuke try. "Thought you weren't hungry or thirsty?" he questioned as he was being pulled by her to the reception.

"Yes, I'm not. I just wanted to show you the diner's interior design, and luscious garden." She hummed as they approached the reception.

Sasuke looked at the man at the reception. His head tilted as he focus on the man's pearl-like eyes. It was filled with color and life. It was very familiar, but the pearl-like eyes that he somehow remembered was not as vibrant as his. And suddenly, he felt her cold hands that made him snapped back to reality. "You have to right our names in their logbook." she smiled.

"I have to right our names?" He clarified. "Yes, your name sir." The man answered that made Sasuke look at him. He then cautiously grab the pen and began writing. The man's eyes widen a bit as he saw Sasuke writing two names - his name, then the other name that made him tremble as he read it.

They managed to enter the diner. Their eyes scanned the diner's interior design. Fancy lights illuminating the inner dining area. They danced their way out to visit the diner's garden. And it left them at awe, different kinds of flowers were blooming in midst of the December nights. As she was scanning the flowers, Sasuke managed to look at her. He thought what made this night so special. "Maybe, because of her." He answered himself as he walk his way to her. He grabbed those cold, and slender arms of her, and hugged her, letting her absorb the warmth he was giving. She gasped a little but managed to hug him back. "Let's call it a night, shall we?" she whispered as yawned shyly.

Sasuke's eyes lit up as he got an idea. "I know a place, where we can spend the rest of the night." And that was the only time when Sasuke was the one who leaded the walk. They walked to a hotel, and got a room for two. Sasuke already experienced being questioned thrice on why would he spend for two, and it made him furious. He saw her struggling getting the pen, he then decided to write for her. He paid eventually then went to their separate rooms.

She bathed herself, he bathed himself. Both readied themselves to sleep, and the night was ending soon. She left a soft chuckle while he smirked as both of them entered their respective balconies at the same time. "Can't sleep?" she asked as she steadied herself against the railings of her balcony. He casually nodded as he approached her, reaching the sides of his balcony. "Stay in my room?" She bravley offered. And that was Sasuke was waiting for, her green light.

Warm rays of sunrise touched Sasuke's satiesfied face. As his eyes gradually open, he found out that Hinata was gone. He quickly got up to search for her, in the bathroom, in the living area, in the kitchen, in the balcony, but no. She was nowhere to be found.  Not sure what he was feeling, neither the two rooms were half empty nor half full, but he reluctantly fixed himself and decided to go down the reception desk.

"Sir, that was what we've been telling you since last night. We have asked you a lot times about booking 2 adjacent rooms with you not having a companion but Sir, you..."

"I saw her writing her name..." Sasuke pointed out, hushing the hotel clerk. "You saw her writing her name on the paper you gave me last night.."

The hotel clerk kept on denying Sasuke's story. Persistent on trying to prove that Sasuke's story were not true, the hotel clerk showed him a video footage caught in the cctv through a computer.

"I don't believe it." Sasuke barked as he spun his heel away from the screen of the computer. "How can that video prove that she wasn't with me since last night?"

The hotel clerk was about to answer but Sasuke, known for a man of few words, continued his speculations. "It can be edited or tampered right before you show it to me." he suspected.

"We can't do that Sir,." The hotel clerk assured Sasuke that he can not do such thing. "I'm sorry Sir, maybe she's not real..."

Unsatisfied with the hotel clerk's response, Sasuke stormed out of the hotel, together with the bags he checked in last night.

"Then I have to... Purposely to look for her." he grunted as he started the engine of his car, driving off to nowhere.

He went to their first stop, the coffee shop they visited last night. He demanded a cctb footage of their dining at the shop, the manager obliged. And to his surprise, he was caught in the video footage eating and speaking, alone, in the open dining area. All alone eating, drinking, speaking alone. "No, no, no. That can't be..."

The shop manager assured Sasuke that the recorded video footage was true and can never be altered nor edited.. Sasuke, defeated, left the coffee shop in dismay. He went inside his car, then slamed the steering wheel enough times for him to realize that it hurts, it hurt when she left her in the hotel, it hurt when she was not in the footage, it hurt for real.

He went to their second stop, the 24/7 diner. He purposely looked for the man at that reception last night. But the man approached him first. The man tapped his shoulder and requested if Sasuke has the time to talk. He brought Sasuke to his office, and offered him to sit down.

"My name is Neji. Hyuga Neji. And i am the co-owner of this diner." the man introduced. "And your name is Sasuke." he added as he opened the ledger of the diner's visitors last night. Sasuke nodded but barked. "Where is she?"

Neji's eyes suddenly saddened which made Sasuke uncomfortable. "I don't want to repeat myself."

Neji then decided to get a photo album in his office desk. He flipped some pages until he found a picture. "Does she looked like this?" he asked as his voice shiver.

Sasuke stared down at the picture. And there she was, the Hinata that he knew, but as he scanned the picture, it was taken 20 years ago. It confused him, resulted at his eyes flicker at the picture and to Neji." What is the meaning of this?"

"Her name is Hinata, my loving cousin. She was about your age when she-"

"She what?!" Sasuke demanded as he slapped the office desk.

"She died." Sasuke suddenly froze. His stare at Neji became threatening. "She jumped off at the Great Naruto Bridge. I bet that was where you saw her, eh?" Neji continued.

Sasuke can't accept and process the information thay he was getting. He grabbed Neji at his soulders and demanded the truth. "Her spirit may have a purpose. And her purpose was you." Neji managed to talk as he was being grabbed by Sasuke. "Please help her pass to the after life."

Sasuke left the diner and waited for the night to come. He then visited the Great Naruto Bridge. He waited for her to come. And he succeeded. He heard a small splash of water, and saw her soaking feet and sandals.

He looked at her, straight in eyes. His eyes scanned that face of hers, her uneven bangs, her nose, her lips, her exposed neck, her dress. Her white dress, flew gracefully through breeze by breeze. With all his might, he tried to contain all the new emotions he had been feeling with her since last night. But it slowly broke him, as predicted, Sasuke snapped.

"Your touch, the hug, our kiss! Even how we made love last night... It felt real, too real!" Sasuke voiced in between while catching his breath. "All too real..." he hushed as he looked away from those cold moonlit opal eyes of hers. "Then now I found out that you're..."

"Last night, Sasuke... all I wanted was to save you from your distress." Hinata spoke as cold as ice. "I want you to live life to the fullest. And not become like me, dead."

"But I don't want to. I want-"

An: There's a continuation actually. I'm just too lazy to post the other half.

[theatrelove3000]

You are my Sunshine Part 2

Welcome to part three! Again, angst and sadness. There is also a bit of abandonment and daddy issues in this one. Also, they wear white to the funeral. In a loy of cultures, white is a mourning colour. I personally follow this tradition if I'm able to. Some people don't like it and I like to be respectful of other people wishes about things like that.

Summary:The day of the funeral comes and a couple welcome arrivals come to support their grieving friend. Along with an unwelcome one.

Warnings: mentions of death, depression, daddy issues, abandonment issues, swearing I think

You Are My Sunshine

Noelle PoV:

I'm standing in front of a mirror in our hotel room. I am wearing a black dress with long sleeves and black Mary Janes. My hair is pulled back with a black ribbon. I can't wear this to my mom's funeral.

Loki comes out of the bathroom, his hair still wet from the shower. Feeling my struggle, he wraps his arms around me, letting me know that he wasn't leaving me.

'If you do not wish to wear this, you should change.' He whispers in my head.

I nod. I walk away from him and go to where my suitcase is sitting open on the bed. I sift through it a bit before finding what I am looking for.

I pull out a long white dress with flowers on it. The sleeves are loose and flowy with buttons up the side. My mom bought it for me in London, telling me that I looked like an angel in it. I hear a knock on the door but Loki is already going to get it. I hear murmuring from the doorway and see blonde hair out of the corner of my eye. Then dark brown hair. I turn to see Sif and Thor standing just inside the door.

I drop the dress and throw my arms around Thor. He hugs me tightly, lifting me off my feet. "You did not believe that we would let you go through this alone, did you?" He whispers in my ear. When he puts me down I move to Sif who hugs me just as tightly. Loki and Thor move out to the balcony while Sif stays with me and waits while I put on the dress. She starts to help me fix my hair, braiding the top part and leaving a few pieces to frame my face. When she is done I rifle through my bag again. I pull out my gladiator sandals and slip them on. I am finishing the lacing when Loki and Thor return.

Loki announces that Thor and Sif must have different outfits, as they are wearing what they would in Asgard. With a wave of his hands, he transforms their armour and leather into something more suitable for Midgard. Thor is in black slacks and a white button up shirt while Sif is wearing a white sweater and blue jeans. He then changes his attire to a pair of dark jeans (that could easily pass off as fancy and not casual) and a white button up with a black vest over it.

With that, we all exit the room and make our way to the street. Sif is shocked by all the cars and people, specifically the womens clothing.

I hail a cab and the four of us pile in. I tell the driver where to go and we're off. When we arrive, I pay the driver and lead my friends over to James.

He glances at the tall couple flanking me and Loki and at what we are wearing. He raises an eyebrow at us but clearly decides not to say anything. Wise of him. After I introduce my friends, he motions for us to follow him into the small chapel where the ceremony is being held. As we walk up the aisle, I spot the casket.

My momma is in there.

I grip Loki's hand in an attempt to stable myself. I do not want to fall in front of these people. Loki squeezes my hand reassuringly and I feel Sif loop her hand through my other arm. I look over at her gratefully and see Thor is holding her hand. I smile at them, glad that they are here.

I find seats in the front and sit down. I sit on the end because I will have to stand up to go eulogize my momma. Loki sits next to me, Sif and Thor behind us.

The ceremony begins, though I barely listen as her friends speak. Loki keeps my hand between his two and in his lap. He keeps glancing at me to see if I'm alright. I'm not and he knows it but I don't cry.

The preacher introduces me and I stand, squeezing Loki's hand one last time before letting go. I go to my spot next to my momma's casket and picture. I pull the necklace she bought in France from my pocket and place it inside the casket with her.

I take a deep breath.

"My momma was the best person I have ever met. She was kind and patient and loved with her whole heart. She was more than this world deserved. More than I could ever hope to become." I blink a few times before continuing, "I wasn't a good enough daughter. I don't live close so I didn't see her except for a special occasion here and there. In the past 3 years, I saw her 4 times, the day she died included." I turn toward the casket, "I am so sorry for not being around Momma." I look back out at all the people in the seats. "When I was ten, my father left. We knew it was coming and we were prepared. We knew he had to go for his work. That doesn't mean that it didn't hurt that he abandoned us. This beautiful woman raised me on her own. We waited for my father for thirteen years. I eventually stopped waiting and moved away. When I moved out, my mom moved on with James. He made her happy again. When I first met him, I knew he was good for my momma. He treated her like the queen she is... was." I start to tear up again, but I let them fall this time. "I am so thankful for everything he did for her. I'm so happy that I got this woman as a mother. I wouldn't have traded my time with her for anything." I take a deep breath to steady myself. "Momma used to say to me, 'it's you and me, baby girl. You and me forever.'" I look at the casket. "Now it's just me." I break down. I let myself have my moment of weakness, then straighten and say, "You and me, Momma. You and me, infinity."

I walk down to my seat and into Loki's waiting arms. He pulls me close and I listen to his breathing. I don't cry.

I sit and listen to James speak. All the usual funeral things. I feel a hand on my knee and look up to see my father sitting next to me, facing James. He looks exactly the same as he did the day he left. It makes sense considering he is Asgardian. I turn my face into Loki's neck and match my breathing to his. I will not lose my temper here.

It isn't until I hear it around me that I notice people are singing. James turned around in surprise to hear it as he sang to my mother's casket.

I recognize the song immediately. My mom was a theatre geek. They sing I’ll Cover You reprise from Rent. I can’t help but sing along.

As the song ends, I feel my dad's hand on my shoulder and lean away from the contact. I just can't handle it.

We all exit the church and follow the hearse up the hill to bury her. I don't want to go but I do. I do the whole process. After the service, Loki, Thor, Sif, and I are huddled together at the gate to the cemetery deciding what to do.

"Noelle."

I turn towards the sound of my name. I see my father standing a few feet away. I start to walk towards him when I feel Loki's hand on my arm. He follows me, constantly touching me in some way.

"Hello, Father."

"You have grown up so beautiful."

"What are you doing here?" I ask, biting back the urge to scream at him to leave and my face clearly shows it as Loki's grip on my arm tightens slightly.

"I came to pay respects to the mother of my only child." He says calmly, "and to see you."

"Well, you've done both. You can leave now."

Loki pivots his body so that he stands with his back to my father, hand still on my arm.

"Love, I know you are angry but maybe you should invite him for a drink with us. I will be with you the whole time." Loki whispers in my ear.

"I owe him nothing."

"You're right but your mother would want you to try with him. He did leave you and I understand that hurts, you know that I do. But you also have a chance that I never did. He seems to want to get to know you."

I know that he is right. I nod and he returns to his previous position.

"Prince Loki." My father says quietly, bowing slightly. Loki waves his hand dismissively.

"Please, Tyr. I am not a prince here. We are here for Noelle."

"Thank you for caring for my daughter." He says. My grip on Loki tightens. He covers my hand with his soothingly.

"How long have you been courting?" My father asks, eyeing my hand and not seeing a ring.

"Almost three years."

Tyr nods. I release Loki and walk back to Sif and Thor. Loki follows after a short conversation with Tyr.

"I invited him to meet us for a drink. He agreed and said he will follow us there." I nod and lace my fingers through his.

"Have we decided where to go, then?" Thor questions.

"There's a really cool place just down the road. We could walk." I tell them.

Lucky for Thor and Sif, they are dressed casual enough for them to get away with what they are wearing in a bar. Loki and I decide we can change before we leave. I brought a change of clothes but Loki can transform what he wears at will. We go somewhere empty and change: him into a t-shirt and leather jacket, me into jeans and a tank top with a denim jacket.

We start walking to the bar and my father follows. I use the term "bar" loosely. It is more of a brewery with a dance floor. We get there and I order five drinks, putting it on a tab. There are going to be more beverages and I don't want to pay every time. The IPA in these beers is high but not enough to get an Asgardian even close to tipsy. Thor brought his flask of Asgardian liquor and poured some in four of the five beers. We find a booth and slide in. My father pulls a chair up to the table. He takes out a flask of his own and adds whatever is in it to his own glass.

Sif raises her glass and we all do the same, "To Lady Beth." We all drink. The others only take a mouthful while I start pounding mine. I finish half of it and set it down to see them staring at me.

"What? You think a half Midgardian girl can't drink?" They laugh and we start to talk amongst ourselves. 3 drinks in, I'm a bit past tipsy and the others are definitely getting there. That's when the man on the mic announces that karaoke is about to start.

"Lady Noelle! I will buy you a new book from the bookshop down the road if you sing." Thor roars over the thunderous music.

"With what money, Brother? You haven't got any of this realms currency." Loki laughs and leans his back against the wall, pulling me to sit between his legs.

"I am the almighty Thor, God of Thunder, Future King of Asgard! I don't need to pay!"

"Unfortunately, your highness,” I say with a mocking hand motion to look like a bow, “You have no royal status here in America. Even if Tony Stark himself were to be there, they wouldn't just give it to you."

"Stark would just pay for it." Loki adds.

I laugh and lean my head back on his shoulder to kiss his jaw.

"Not at the table, Noelle. Please!" Sif groans. I laugh and stop kissing him.

My father looks very uncomfortable. I find it almost… amusing.

"So, Lord Tyr. Where have you been all this time? Where did you go when you left my mother to raise me by herself?" I ask nonchalantly, though I let the sarcasm slip into my tone.

Loki's grip on me tightens in a small warning but I don't care. I keep my eye contact with him and wait for an answer. I deserve an answer.

"I had received a message from the Allfather. He required my services in a mission that I am not allowed to disclose to anyone." He explains coolly, "I was informed about your mother and took momentary leave so I could be here to pay my respects and see the woman you have become."

"You could have come earlier. Could you not come to my graduation? To any of my last sixteen birthdays? Three of which have been in Asgard, I might add."

"I am terribly sorry that I could not be there, I truly wish that I could have been there for you. I also had a job to do. A task to keep the universe safe."

I tear my eyes away from his and face Loki again.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, too," I mutter.

It's silent at the table for a moment. Thor and Sif go off to get another round and Loki and I talk to each other through our connection. My father pulls a book from inside his coat pocket. I watch him from the corner of my eye.

'You are so guarded to him. I understand why but you really shouldn't be so harsh. He feels bad enough, it seems.'

'I will behave with him as I like. I don't trust him and don't really want to pretend that I do. I grow tired of playing pretend.'

Loki nods but continues, 'I understand, my dear, but you really should try to be kinder,' Before I could protest, he starts again, 'I know you do not want to but your mother would wish for you to at least try and be nice.'

I sigh into his neck.

By this time, Thor and Sif returned to the table. They passed out the drinks and added the strong stuff.

I realize that my eyes are closed after a moment of them being that way. I really need to sleep. Loki realizes this and suggests that he and I go back to the hotel but I shake my head. I can't seclude myself. I need to have a little social interaction. I can't just shut the world out the way I did when I thought Loki died.

Loki frowns but let's it go. I take a sip from my glass and lean back into him. He leans my head against mine. Sif is looking at us like we have worms crawling out of our ears. Thor is just focusing on the current singer. When I notice Sif staring, I laugh and lean away from Loki to explain.

"In Midgard, this isn't scandalous in any way. In fact, this is tame compared to what some people do in public." She raises her eyebrows at this news. Thor must have heard me too because he reaches over and takes her hand between his own, all the while staring at the singer. Sif smiles and leans into his shoulder. I return to my previous position wrapped in Loki's arms, pressed to his chest.

We sit there for a while longer. Eventually, I decide to order a pizza and have it delivered out to the brewery. Loki explains it to Sif and Thor before they eat it and once they try it, we basically arm wrestle over it. My father just sort of sits there and watches us. I'm not sure what he's doing but I don't care that much. I make sure he gets something to eat but other than that, I let him be.

At around one in the morning, Tyr decides it's time for him to go.

"I know that you do not want to leave Noelle alone at a time like this, Prince Loki, but I was hoping I may have a word with her." He looks at me at the end.

"That is her decision, Lord Tyr. You must ask her." He replies, looking at me.

I take a deep breath and start to move away from Loki. He tightens his hold and presses his lips to my temple before whispering, "Are you sure you are alright?" I think for a moment. I realize that I'm not going to see father again for a very long time, if ever, so I need to try and forgive him. I've been angry for a long time.

I don't want to be angry anymore.

I nod to Loki and he kisses my cheek before letting me go. I stand up and take Tyr's arm. I lead him to an empty part of the brewery and stand in front of him, crossing my arms over my chest.

"This was not you, Noelle. This was all me. I could not provide you comfort in a lightning storm and I would not have been of any use on a bright, sunny day either. I spent all my time in another place mentally to the point where your mother could not get me out of my trance. When you know you are not good enough for people, you begin to stop showing up and then you do not show up enough times and it starts to feel like leaving. Until you finally do."

"You were there for the Allfather, weren't you? And the queen while she lived? What did they do that I didn't do?" I am holding back tears.

He reaches his hand out to touch my arm. "You never did anything, Noelle. You were just a small girl." His eyes start to haze a bit, his voice cracking, "I was who I was and there is nothing you did or could have done. I just was not ready for you. Or anyone." He pulls his hand back as I look away from his eyes, so similar in colour to mine. "But I think I have changed." He pauses for a moment, taking a breath, "The Allfather and Queen Frigga believed that I am capable of the tasks they gave me. They never knew of you and your mother. They believed in who I have always been for them."

"Who are you?" I ask, letting the tears fall.

"I have almost completed my mission. I have another lined up." He places his fingers under my chin and makes me look at him. "I came here to do what I told you I wanted to do: Pay respects to your mother. I am grateful that I saw you and I am sorry for what I put you and Beth through. I am glad that she took wonderful care of you. It brings me joy to know that you have become such an accomplished and beautiful young woman."

I sniff, take a deep breath to stop the tears before speaking again. "You have almost finished the mission?"

He nods and gives me a small smile. "I have."

"Your mission was to stay." My voice cracks. He is silent, the smile fading.

"Look, thank you for telling me your side. Loki thinks that if I forgive you, it will bring me peace." The tears start to well up again, "He is usually right about these things but... I don't see how he is right about this one. And I can't." I do my best to keep from sobbing and continue speaking, "Your mission was to stay. You don't think I had it in me to allow my father to grow?" I uncross my arms and look down at my feet before making eye contact again. "I'm happy I saw you and heard what you had to say and it makes me feel better knowing that I had nothing to do with what you did. I always thought that this was my fault somehow. But it... it's not." I pause. 

"I didn't do anything." I take a step back from him, towards the door. I place my hand on the back of a chair to help me stand.

"I am glad you have found a prince. It pleases me to know you could work your way up in the world.”

I look down, take another deep breath and feel as though a weight is lifted off my chest.

"Wow." I sigh.

"What?"

"I always thought you cared about me. It just suprises me that you only thought about who I would end up with. It’s almost like you believe we are beneath you." I suddenly feel the pull of Loki in my mind and know that he is checking to make sure I'm okay. I need him.

I start walking towards the door we came in, "Thank you for coming, I hope you get home okay." And I leave. I walk through the door and see Loki, Sif, and Thor sitting in the booth, watching the door Lord Tyr and I disappeared through. As I make my way back to the table, Loki stands and makes his way to me. He reaches me, wraps one arm around my waist and I start to break down. I stop halfway to the booth and look at Loki.

"I am going to pay and then we are going outside. I can't break down here. You go get Thor and Sif." He looks at me skeptically and I feel his worry surge and I squeeze his hand.

'I'm okay,' I tell him. He nods, not believing me and does what I ask of him while I go to the front and pay. I surround my body with illusion to hide my tears and red eyes. It fools the guy behind the bar so I pay and walk out to the parking lot. Loki finds me not long after with Thor and Sif flanking him. I take his hand and start walking. He doesn't ask questions, just allows me to pull him along with me.

I grew up here so I know the area like the back of my hand. I don't really know where I am going until I get there.

My mom used to take me to this park when I was a child. When I had a bad day at school, she would buy me ice cream and we would sit on the swings. We came here after my date left me at prom to go to a party with friends. We sat here on hot summer days with popsicles and watched the kids play.

Thor and Sif are suddenly fascinated with everything in the park and I take the opportunity to bring Loki to the bench Momma and I always sat at. The second he sits next to me and pulls me to him, I feel the illusion fall and I sob into his chest. He just holds me and strokes my hair, humming softly. He lets me cry all of the tears that I have been holding back all day and he does so without complaint.

As my sobs turn to whimpering, I turn my face so that I can see Thor and Sif on the swings. Well, Sif is on the swings. Thor is on his back under his. He must have fallen off because Sif is laughing hysterically. As big as Thor is, you can't deny his speed. Before she knows what is happening, Sif is on her back with him leaning over her. He laughs before she throws her arms behind his neck and pulls his lips down to hers. The sight of my friends happy brings a small smile to my smile. I look up at Loki, who is staring down at me with a worried look in his eyes. He gently brushes a strand of hair out of my face, letting his fingers linger on my face for a moment.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, tearing up again, "I know you wanted me to forgive him but I couldn't do it. You're wrong about this one, Loki." I keep eye contact as I watch the emotions pass behind his eyes.

"I never expected that, darling." He nods in the direction we came from, "That kind of forgiveness does not come so easily."

He pauses and pulls away enough to look me in the eyes without having to look down so much. "Life is a long time and I hope you get there someday. I hope I get there with you. But that is never what I was searching for right now."

My eyebrows pull together in confusion, "What did you want from me?" I ask him through the tears.

"Noelle, did you forgive yourself?"

We look at each other for a moment before I break down again. He holds me close as I cry. I'm so grateful for him at this moment. I don't know what I could have possibly done to deserve him.

'The question is not what you did, my love. The real question is what did I do to deserve you?'

I smile into his neck and lean my head up to kiss his jaw.

"Loki! Lady Noelle! Come join us on these things here!" Thor calls us over to where he and Sif are on the swings and Loki looks at me questioningly before standing and holding his hand out to me. I take his hand and we walk over to the swing set. I let go of Loki's hand and sit on the empty swing beside Sif.

I kick off and start to swing, throwing my feet forward and backwards to go higher. Sif follows suit and soon Thor and Loki are swinging with us. We are all laughing like little kids, getting progressively more competitive in terms of how high we could get. I show them how to jump off the swing while it's still moving and it isn't long until Thor and Loki make it a contest to see who could jump farther. Sif and I just sit and talk and laugh at the boys when they fall on their faces. I tell her stories of my mom and about things we did together.

By the time we head back to the hotel, the sun is starting to rise. The four of us get some breakfast from the little cafè in the lobby, then Loki checks Thor and Sif into a room near us. By the time my head hits the pillow, it is 6:30. Loki crawls into the bed after me and wraps his arms around my waist. He pulls me flush against him and I fall asleep instantly.

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/55580260

Chapter 9:

The next morning Nick woke up to the soft tune of cheery music that came from the radio that used to wake everyone up every day. He instead hadn’t heard it for a long time now, because he had usually overslept it or he had been to high to notice it. Still tired, Nick looked out of the window into the twilight of the morning and asked himself how anyone could stand up at such an unearthly hour. But some Wellies were already walking outside, so he guessed they got used to it. And also, they didn’t experience any wild chases yesterday.

The music followed him when he walked down the stairs and entered the kitchen, where he met Morrie. He could only rasp „Morning,“ and had to clear his throat because for some reason his voice left him. 

„Morning, Nick“, Morrie returned casually. „Fancy a coffee?“ 

Nick affirmed immediately.

„There you go,“ the other man said and placed an already filled cup on the counter. „With milk, just the way you like it.“

Nick stared at the cup, still dealing with his own thoughts. He was unable to decide how he should feel. He couldn’t handle that he was in one room with Morrie just like that, without getting attacked, drinking a coffee with him like old friends and that Morrie even cared enough to serve it the way he liked. Nick felt numb, as if it was a dream, as if he would still lie at the couch in Sally’s place and yet it was like he held back feelings that could break out any second. Above all, he didn’t know how to act, especially not after what they had done last night. Had Morrie been serious or did he only want some amusement? 

„There must be something terribly interesting in that coffee if you keep staring at it like that,“ Morrie ripped him out of his thoughts. „As if you wanted to summon a ghost.“

At Nick’s puzzled look he added „You tried that before.“

„Really?“, Nick blurted out. „I can’t remember.“

He took a sip from the hot drink, thinking about it and he suddenly felt a sharp sting in his chest. Why did Morrie have to bring old memories back? Who knew how long that had been.

„Nevermind.“ Morrie shrugged. „Uncle Jack’s News Hour is about to start, I don’t wanna miss that.“

Nick followed him into the living room, asking himself what was the last time he actually watched a broadcast of Uncle Jack. That was certainly a long time ago too. 

„Wakey, wakey, everyone! It’s another fabulous day in Wellington Wells…“ declared the charismatic and ever so jolly uncle from the telly and minutes later, Nick was sure that everything was quite alright after all, that there were no serious problems in town, that everything could be solved with just a bit more confidence, and joy, of course, and that everyone in town had a lot of fun every day. His mood was getting better and better until it came to the news of an incident in the Avalon Hotel. 

„Some of you might’ve heard rumors about a downer attack at the Birdie Callagher Concert in the Avalon Hotel last evening. What a ridiculous story“, Jack shook his head, sounding all amused. 

„The truth is, it was a way too well played out theater act to add some spice to the program. No one was really hurt and our lovely singer Birdie Callagher lets you know that it was indeed a very pleasant event and she’s exited to return to the Avalon whenever she can.“ Jack smiled at the camera and put the papers away.

„And don’t worry,“ he added and playfully held up a finger, „if there’ll ever be a downer attack somewhere, you’ll hear it fist from Jack Worthing. That’s me.“ He winked at the camera in an irresistible way. „And for now, let’s listen to the brand new song of our favorite new singer.“ With that, the broadcast ended and was followed by a cheerful song that must’ve been one of Birdie’s. 

„Anytime you smile, baby, you know you drive me wild, crazy! That's why you got me screamin'. I think I might be dreamin’…“

Nick’s stomach turned at the thought of having to listen to this until the end. Then thankfully Morrie turned off the tv.

„I heard she’s Virgil’s creation, just like you,“ he stated.

„I’m not his ‚creation‘“, Nick disapproved. „I’m just his favorite.“

„You were,“ Morrie corrected him. „Weren’t you in the Avalon too? And didn’t the bobbies chase you yesterday?“ 

Nick sank into the couch, clinging to the now empty mug and remaining silent, so Morrie went on.

„I was wondering if you only made it up to make me come around. I guess I have my answer.“

„I’m not proud of it,“ Nick simply said, still looking away.

Morrie silenced too and Nick now wondered how he would judge him now.

„Since when have you been a downer?“, he suddenly asked and Nick almost let the mug fall.

„I’m not a downer,“ he bursted out. „Murderer, downer, what’s gonna be next?“

Morrie stayed calm and took a sip of his coffee before he went on.

„Are you on Joy right now?“

Nick sank back down in defeat.

„No…,“ he confessed. „I forgot it in my jacket.“

Morrie wiped his forehead.

„Why am I not surprised?“

He took a bowl from the couch table and offered it to Nick.

„Here, take one of mine.“

„Only one,“ he repeated when he saw Nick greedily reaching out for the bowl.

„I know, I know, only one per hour. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way.“ Nick took one pill and eyed it.

„You’re still taking Vanilla?“

Morrie shrugged. „It’s still the best mixture. Makes me happy but not dizzy.“

Nick popped it and hoped it would come along with the Blackberry.

„About yesterday…“, Morrie came back to the topic and gave Nick a serious look. „Do you still mean it?“

Nick was glad he only needed seconds to get what Morrie was referring to.

„Yes, I absolutely mean it,“ he answered with emphasis and returned the look.

„It’s gonna be hard work,“ Morrie said. „Do you still remember how a band works?“

„Sure, it’s nothing but a bunch of egomaniacs that try to get their own way. Actually it can’t work but somehow it still does. Right?“

Morrie sighted.

„You couldn’t do all you want anymore.“

„I know.“ 

Nick tried to remember what it felt like, but the Vanilla cloud in his head spread out and made him unable to believe that there could be a problem.

„One more question,“ Morrie went on. „Do you think Virgil knows what you did yesterday?“

The question caused Nick to wriggle about on the couch, feeling very uncomfortable.

„I hope he doesn’t,“ he said meekly.

„Okay…II talk to the lads today and you make amends for Virgil,“ Morrie decided and pointed at Nick. „Do your best! Kiss his feet if you must!“

„I’ll make it“, Nick waved him off. „He always came around at the end.“

„Or you did…“, Morrie muttered to himself.

„What did you say?“

„Ah…nevermind…“, Morrie shook his head and Nick chose to forget about it.

„Well…I guess I’m out then…“, he said unsurely and left the couch.

„Wait,“ Morrie followed him. „Not in these rags. You can’t risk that someone recognizes you again. I’ll borrow you some of mine.“

„You borrow me clothes?“, Nick asked in surprise.

„Yes, that’s what I said. Follow me..“. Morrie made a gesture and Nick obeyed nervously. He had never worn one of Morrie’s clothes - why would he? But he was surprised that he got to that point now after so many years. While he leaned at the doorframe he tried not to look at Morrie’s stuff while the other man was searching in his dresser. 

„It’s gonna be one size too large for you but the color should suit you,“ he said pulling out a dark blue suit that made Nick weak in the knees. He couldn’t help but imagine Morrie wearing it.

„I’m waiting downstairs,“ Morrie said and left the room.

Nick didn’t want to have such strong feelings about such simple things as a suit but putting on a layer that had Morrie’s scent on it was something he couldn’t take calmly. He skimmed over the cloth and felt sorry that he couldn’t keep it. Going back to Morrie, he tried not to show how much it affected him.

However, Morrie was confused today too. If someone had told him yesterday that he was going to let Nick Lightbearer back into his life he would’ve thought that someone was suffering from too much Joy. He had been so sure he had learned his lesson once and for all, until he found him on his doorstep again, being afraid and helpless, with his clothes dirty and shredded, giving him this pleading look that he could barely withstand, especially when he looked like Norbert Pickles, with this cute messed up hair…

Morrie had locked him up in the guestroom because he couldn’t handle the sight, because he had been afraid to soften again, to let Nick use him for his selfish plans and then throw him away again. But of course he couldn’t forget who he had let into his house and he couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

Morrie was glad that he didn’t hurt Nick but he still couldn’t trust him. Even if he wanted to. He wanted to believe that Nick changed, that the monster the music industry had turned him into was gone and that he had turned back into Norbert Pickles again. Morrie had no greater wish than to get him back and at the same time he was afraid to lose him once more, to find out that all of this was just a short moment in the eccentric life of the Lightbearer and he would walk out of the door and never come back again.

Perhaps his fears had been the reason why he had lost all is good grace and taken the opportunity yesterday. What he had really wanted, he didn’t know. As if he could get Norbert back with this, showing him what he lost, but trying to be not too nice, to protect himself. It was like begging or punishing him or both. Or he had only comforted himself and used Nick just like he had used him.

Whatever the reason was, he knew that he shouldn’t have done it.

„Nick, before you go…I have to tell you something…about last night…“ Morrie said when Nick came back, dressed in his clothes. Morrie’s voice was quiet and he bowed his head as if he couldn’t handle looking Nick in the eyes. Nick however couldn’t get his eyes off him and waited eagerly for what he was about to say. 

„I shouldn’t have done this…“, he said meekly.

Nick was upset. It was not at all what he had hoped for.

„You think it was a mistake?“

Morrie still looked down to the floor.„I should’ve contained myself,“ he almost whispered. Then he took courage to look up again and their eyes met.

„Can you forgive me?“

Nick was melting away at the sight, and still, his decision was fixed.

„No,“ he answered and shook his head, causing Morrie to give him a shocked look.

„I can’t forgive you that you think it was mistake. And I’ll change your mind. Just you wait.“

With that, he turned around and stormed out of the front door.

„Norbert!“, Morrie shouted after him but Nick was already out of reach. All he could do was watching him go and fighting down his worries.

Nick reached the Avalon without making any new enemies for once and used the secret entrance to his suite that Virgil had installed for him. First, he carefully looked around the room to see if any fan had sneaked past the staff and was lying around somewhere. When he didn’t find anyone, he crawled out from under the bar and started changing into his fancy rags with regret. 

However, he also noticed how much he had missed them and how he slowly turned into his full self again. In the bathroom he adjusted his wig - finally some hair he could tame! He felt much more comfortable in his skin when he returned to his bed where he had left Morrie’s suit. He carefully folded it, something he never did, but he knew how accurate Morrie was with his things and he didn’t want to anger him at any cost.

Still, he shortly cuddled into the jacket to take in the scent before he folded it back on the bed.

After that he hoped to find Virgil in the hotel. He assumed he was in the breakfast lounge because the buffet was still open. He left the suite, now being Nick Lightbearer again and strode along the corridor where he met a boy who’s face fell at the sight of him. 

„Lovely day for it,“ Nick greeted him in an overenthusiastic way.

„Right as rain,“ the boy said half-heartedly.

„I can’t hear you,“ Nick insisted, smiling widely.

At that the boy put on a silky mile.

„Right as rain, Mr. Lightbearer, Sir!“, he greeted him with fake excitement.

„There we go!“, Nick said and laughed as he made his way down the stays, not noticing the rude gesture the boy threw after him. It wouldn’t have changed his mood anyway. No one would take him for the rotten downer he had been yesterday. 

With an expansive gesture he pushed open the wooden double doors leading to the breakfast lounge and strode in, looking around for Virgil.

Then he walked around the room, searching the tables, all aware that the guests were staring at him, either in disgust or with awe. It was likely that Virgil had already seen him if he was in this room. 

Nick stopped when his gaze fell on a thick blonde mane in a corner of the lounge. The man in the purple suit who sat next to her could only be Virgil. Of course, Nick thought to himself. He should’ve known that Virgil wouldn’t give up on Birdie just because someone gave him a black eye. Nick had to act like nothing happened.

He approached them while they talked silently to each other and didn’t take note of Nick. They jumped when he loudly knocked on the table right between them.

„May I join?“, he asked with amusement, ignoring Virgil’s annoyed look.

„Did I interrupt you?“, he added and gave Virgil a suggestive look.

„Nick,“ Virgil almost blurted that out but he caught himself halfway. „…

allow me to introduce Miss Birdie Callagher. Miss Callagher…“ he made a gesture towards Nick, „…Nick Lightbearer.“

„Birdie Callagher, really? I’ve heard so much about you…“, Nick said and tried not to stare too much.

„I hope only happy things,“ she answered and offered him her hand which he gently kissed. „It’s a pleasure to meet you.“

When he looked up to her he saw that she was giving him her ravishing smile with a mixture of surprise. Content with himself, he turned back to Virgil to say: „When you’re finished I’d like to talk to you in private.“

The look Virgil gave him was unreadable, but he answered: „Alright, wait for me in your suite. I’ll come along.“

With that, Nick was dismissed and doomed to wait. He hated waiting but he had to please Virgil, so he shortly said goodbye to Birdie and went back to his suite and stretched himself out on the big couch.

After what had felt like an eternity his manager finally granted him a visit and slumped down on the couch next to him.

„I’m glad you’re back to your senses“, he said with an emphasis that told Nick he could stop acting.

„You know it…“, he only said and tensed.

„Of course,“ Virgil shouted. „Wasn’t hard to guess. I’ve known you for years! I have to give it to you though, you surprised me. I thought you stay in the tunnel and let me make a good deal without mistaking it all. I should’ve known you would come to steal the show.“

„So..you..didn’t ditch me?“, Nick asked meekly.

„Hell no, do you think I can only have one star at a time? You still had a chance. And what were you doing with it?“ Virgil pointed a finger at Nick’s face. „How long has it been since you promised me to get your shit together? Two days? And then you showed up as a downer.“

„I*m sorry I hurt you, Virgil. Are you alright?“

„I’m fine,“ he waved him off. „But did you think about Birdie for one second? She almost had a breakdown, didn’t see a downer before and the doctors were busy all night to cheer her up again. You could’ve ruined her, made her a downer. Perhaps that was your plan.“

„No, believe me, I had…no plan. None at all…“ Nick didn’t dare to look Virgil in the eyes anymore. He just curled up and hoped he could make it up to him.

„Well, that’s not a surprise. Thank god you didn’t freak her out again. I wonder how you got back in such a good shape today.“

„Yeah…actually…I’ve managed to do something right yesterday. That’s what I wanted to tell you.“

„Yeah, what? Surprise me again.“

„I think I can get my old band back.“

„You…think?“, Virgil squinted his eyes.

„Well…I convinced Morrie to join me again and he’s gonna talk to the band today and likely he’ll have them gathered back together by morning.“

„That’s indeed a surprise… Morrie Memento, ey? He’s sensible, he could do you well…“ Virgil thought about it, already back to business. „But…Nick?“

„Yes?“

Virgil gave him an urgent look.

„Don’t let him talk you into anything you don’t want. You better tell me first  before you do it.“

Nick was puzzled.

„….okay?“

Virgil got up from the couch without further explanation. 

„Well, then, I’ll go prepare a happy reunion I guess. And you…“, he looked at him sternly and pointed a finger at him. „You keep your head clear.“

„Yes, Virgil,“ Nick was eager to obey. „And…Virgil?“, he carefully held his manager back and locked gazes again.

„I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.“

Virgil didn’t look angry anymore.

„You trust me now?“

„Yes.“ 

[drakewalkerfantasy]

WIP Wednesday/Thursday

I’m a little bit late to the party. But being sick for past 2 days (still am, but thankfully without temperature anymore) So thank you @desiree-0816 for your tag. 

At the moment I have too many WIPs I’m trying to work my way through. 2 from these WIPs will be published today or tomorrow. Here is short previews for them. + 1 bonus for my two part mini-series continuation of my Can you fake love? mini series. I put more sneak peaks than I intended, so now put them in a cut, please let me know, if anyone is interested to be tagged and for which WIP series or mini-series.

Happy to present sneak-peak to my first chapter to my new series called Consequences

He huffed, downing one drink after another, not paying attention to what he was drinking, his eyes dropping back to the bar in front of him. His thoughts involuntarily returning to the girl, but he stubbornly pushed them away. Frustrated and angry by the fact he couldn’t get her out of his head. Hurt and angry by the fact his mother managed to get to him once again.

By the time he was done and ready to leave the club, he was more than tipsy, and the anger boiling inside him became only bigger. Beckett rose abruptly, almost tripping over his feet. He looked around, searching for Zeph, but couldn’t find him, so he typed him a quick message letting him know that he about to head back to his place. When he was just about to exit the club, he felt someone bump straight into him. His arms instinctively wrapped around the person’s shoulders, preventing them both from the fall.

When the stars align? Part 1 first part from 2 parts mini-series part of my mini-series friends to lovers AU

“Where are we?” she asked. “We are in a field, obviously,” slyly replied Beckett taking Maeve’s hand and leading her further into the field, choosing a narrow path toward a lonely standing tree. Maeve’s eyes grew wider the closer they approached their destination. The details of an area becoming more visible and she gasped when she noticed that a tree was lit up brightly with different lanterns hanging from it and placed around a picnic blanket set for two. “Beckett, how… when…,” she asked when they finally reached the top of a small hill where the tree stood. “This is… beautiful,” she whispered, and her heart made a flip when she looked around them. “You are beautiful,” murmured Beckett approaching Maeve from behind and standing next to her before walking toward the sitting area. “What?” blinked Maeve in surprise taking her place next to Beckett on the blanket, carefully taking her heels off and tucking her legs under. “I mean…,” Beckett cleared his throat, a blush reaching his cheeks once again. “I mean, this what people usually say on a date… right? And you look nice in this dress, so it was simply stating a fact.” “You mean on a fake date?” questioned Maeve blushing, but her face brightly lit with a smile and her eyes shining.

When the stars align? Part 2 second part from 2 parts mini-series part of my mini-series friends to lovers AU

A year later after their fake date Beckett paced outside of Maeve’s house ready to take her to their first official date. Not just as a friends, but as a real couple. He was so nervous about it, that he came forty minutes earlier and now was pacing outside of her house, glancing at the watch he was wearing every couple of minutes, waiting for the time to come.

He was ranking his hand through his disheveled hairs and his heart was thundering in his chest. Throwing the last glance at the watch he took a step forward, finally knocking on the door waiting for someone to let him in. In a minute he heard a light steps approaching the door revealing a petite blond woman on the threshold. Beckett cleared his throat swallowing hard before greeting the woman in front of him.

Flames of Yesterday. Chapter 14. 

This was the last day of the seminar in Miami, ending with the fancy dinner in their schedule. And the opportunity to unwind after the busy week they all had. Diana and Oriana were beyond excited to dress up for the occasion and show up the new dresses they both bought the previous day. As somehow everyone forget to let them know about this event.

Diana sat on the bed of their hotel room, digging through her travel bag searching for sexy set of underwear to match the beautiful blue midnight dress laying in front of her, paired with a silver stiletto.

This is something I didn’t wrote in a while, but I really loved the idea and I honestly would love to continue it some day.

The woman in a blow: Chapter 4/?

Without noticing anything around him he collapsed on the sofa in front of the TV gripping a bottle of rum. His thought slowly starting to form, at first this is just one thought taking a shape in his alcohol-obscured brains. This is not true. This simply cannot be true. Damien’s eyes are shut, heart racing as after long distance marathon, his palms are sweaty and all his muscles gone numb. He took another mouthful of rum, noticing how badly his hands are shaking. Another thought of disbelief instantly flew into his mind while burning liquid flowed down his throat. This boy… he is not my son… he simply cannot be. Damien groaned tightening the grip, picture of two and a half years old boy clearer and clearer started to appear in his mind. His curly hairs, square jaw and aquiline nose are unmistekably his. When almond shaped, deep set and nut brown eyes are hers… Alana’s… Truth hits him in the guts making it difficult to breath, his eyes wide open but unseeing, bleeding knuckles give a dull pain the one he barely noticing. I have a son… He thinks, heart trying to jump out of his chest and another thought corrects him in the same instance, making his heart shrink from pain. I had a son… As soon as truth hits him he can feel the pain wash over him as he continues to drink. He hardly noticing how much time has passed, noticing just after his first bottle of rum got empty, that time got past 4 o’clock in the morning. Getting up for another one on his already shaken legs, he got back to TV collapsing on the sofa one more. His brains are slowed by an amount of alcohol already consumed. But his heart still shrinks in pain and memory of HER slowly occupies him as clearly as if it was yesterday. No matter how much alcohol he will drink this last memory of her will never let him go… and this pain will always be there. “Now even stronger”, sad bitter smile touch his lips, never reaching his bloodshot eyes. His grip tightening on bottle of rum, eyes slowly closing, letting pain wash over him and this memory slowly takes him to the past.

She laid across his chest playing with his hairs, lazily placing kisses on his chest, playing with her butterfly pendant. She seems to be lost in her thoughts, but he knew better than to ask her questions. He couldn’t tell how much time had pass before he broke silence, kissing the crown of her head making her jump a little.

- Alana, what is wrong?

- Nothing, - she shook away his question. He could feel her body tense next to him and her hand froze in his hairs.

- Common… I know you better than this… Alana, what happened? Since you got this pendant, you like this all the time and this couple of months worsen. Please, let me in… do you have a problem?

- I don’t HAVE a problem. Just drop it. Please… just let it go, - quickly she got up from bed annoyingly picking up her clothes, that were ripped off the previous evening, and getting dressed.

- What are you doing?

- Getting ready to work, if this is not obvious.

- Alana, we are on vacation…

- I got an assignment, - she said not turning to him, but checking her reflection meeting his gaze in the mirror.

Taggs: @fluffy-marshmallow-heart​ @annekebbphotography​ @perriewinklenerdie​ @thequeenofcronuts​ @symonde​ @lapisreviewsstuff​ @madampugzalot​ @emichelle​ @elles-choices​ @lilyofchoices​ @boneandfur​ @walkerismychoice​ @hopelessromantic1352​ @confessionsofabrokegirl​ @msjpuddleduck​ @desiree-0816​ @universallypizzataco​ @feartheendlesssummer​ @catlady0911​ @the-soot-sprite​

[notmyrick]

General Arc 2

/She had a Rick once, but she also had a Diane. / They traveled to Muskegon, Michigan. Her work made them travel there, and they rented a small house for the two of them. She kissed Rick goodbye as she packed her stuff for work. He grumbled in discontent at her leaving again and was tinkering with their newest invention. They both had an unbelievable love of science despite their chosen profession. If she wasn't at work, or if he wasn't gallivanting somewhere in the galaxy doing who knows what, they both would sit in the living room thinking out loud and inventing what should've been the impossible. "I'll be back late tonight." She said. "Whenever are you not." He started. "Rick..." "Just go Roxy." She stopped at the door and blew another kiss to him as she left. /She had a Rick once, but she also had a Diane./ "What the FUCK!" she yelled as she threw whatever was at reach. She was home alone, snot and tears were dripping down her face. She flopped onto the couch and screamed into the pillow. There was a knock on her front door, so she lifted her head and shouted she was fine, then hit hear head against the pillow. Tears escaped as she calmed down and sat back up. She looked around and found the place a mess; she started to clean. It's been a year since they were in Michigan. It was a rough year with all her late nights which caused most of her and Rick's arguments. Last night was another argument, and he spilled that he was seeing another woman. The end result was that she kicked him out of the house, and he was staying at a woman's place named Diane. She grabbed all the broken pieces with her bare hands, not minding the small cuts they gave. When she was out of things to clean, she opened the fridge to stuff her sorrows away, but saw a well-placed creme brulee. She sighed closed the fridge and picked up the phone. The phone rang for a while and a feminine voice appeared on the other side. "Hello, I need to speak with Rick." /She had a Rick once, but she also had a Diane./ Rick and her were at the company house. They sat on the bed in the master bedroom. She clasped Rick's hands in her own and their knees touched. "Do you love her?" She asked, an empty feeling burst inside her chest. When he didn't reply, she hummed. "That-, Diane, is able to give you something I can't." She knew. She knew Rick knocked that woman up and that woman, Diane, has his child. She, herself, was infertile. Although Rick told her it was fine and if they wanted a child, they could just adopt, she knew he craved something familial. And to a certain degree, she did too. They both wanted to prove they could be better parents then their own, but there was something special to be able to share genes with another living being. "Rick, I love you. Not a single moment in my life have or will I ever stop loving you. However, I will not stop you from your own choices. If... if you love her and stopped... stopped... if my feelings are not reciprocated, then you can be with Diane. If you don't regret it, as long as you are happy." She monologue and clenched her hands as well as eyes. She waited for his answer, she waited for the hole in her chest to expand like the universe. She waited for the pain that will last until she was 6ft underground or scattered in the wind. Then she felt pressure on her lips. Their eyes locked as he kissed her and she gave in for this temporary bliss, it was sweet like the dessert he made her every day without fail. At least she can get some closure. "I'm not leaving you." He said. She felt elated. "But I can't just leave Diane." He continued. She felt shocked. "And you need to make a plan." He smirked, kissed her, and left the room. Now she was bewildered. What the fuck just happened? /She had a Rick once, but she also had a Diane/ A bunch of reporters and paparazzi gathered around a vivacious redhead as she walked down the court steps. She smiled an alluring smile to the camera. Everyone around her was shouting for her attention. "Now that you have actively participated into the "Free love" campaign and even become the face of it, what are your next steps for the cause?" "I will be supporting the free love campaign for as long as I am alive. I will also be adjusting my company's standard moral ethics policy to fit my current ideals." She said calmly. "It is rumored that you only advocated for the free love campaign because some other woman had intruded into your marriage is that true?" "No comment." She replied with a smile and continued to answer questions. The TV was blocked by the same redhead that was on the screen as she looked at Rick and Diane laying lazily on the couch. "If you guys want dinner, I suggest the man of the house get us some fucking groceries unless you want to munch on saltine crackers and beer." She grabbed Rick's hand to pull him up and to take his seat as she sat down next to Diane. He stumbled off the couch before mumbling and going to the store, leaving the two women in the house. "Didn't end up like you thought, Diane?" She spoke accusingly. "I don't know what you mean?" She replied all innocently. "Bull shit, you're a psychologist, you may not be smart, but you are clever." Roxx continued. "Let me lay out your thought process. As soon as you figured out Rick was "married" you used your empathetic nature to lure him to love you the same way you do. It took some time, but then he fell in love with you, but wouldn't admit it, so you got him drunk, drunk enough for some ballsy, stupid, liquid courage so he could sleep with you. It took a few shots, but you got the result in the form or a plastic stick with double lines. You "hid" your pregnancy for a mere 3 weeks, not even the full month. Then you "let slip" your current incubation which drove Rick to be a spluttering fool. All you had to do at that point was wait for another argument to surface." "Is that what you think?" Diane smiled at her, amused. "It's what I know. However, that was only phase 1. It was time for phase 2." She took a dramatic pause and a swig of beer left by Rick on the coffee table. "Phase 2 of your plan consisted of being there for Rick, be his emotional barrier against the oh so cruel world. And with him not returning to me he would undoubtedly stay at your place in which physical, emotional, and verbal exposure would get Rick on your side. When you guys married out of wedlock, only then would you tell your unfettered adoration for Rick. Not only would that stroke his ego and give you a few brownie points it would fix the wall around his heart that was caused by me and be fixed by you." She wasn’t done yet. "Unfortunately, your phase 2 plans were derived based on the assumption that I would either act cool as a cucumber or become totally enraged beyond reason. Both true, and I did. But you didn't expect me to put my pride down. Your analysis of me is spot on, creepily so, stalker professional you know." She applauded the blonde for a job well done. "Miscalculation on my part." Dianne replied, just casually confessing everything she said was true. Roxy smiled and changed the channel. "You, however, underestimated my love for the blue haired dildo buying us groceries. Rick is like a black hole; all he ever does is take from his surroundings. You don't know this now, but you will. He is the only exception to everything. You will either love it, hate it, or both." Her smile never left as she got up from the couch and left. /She had a Rick once, but she also had a Diane./ "Why are you doing this?" Diane asked as Roxx placed a beautiful necklace on her. The vanity mirror reflected the redhead smiling through it. "You already know the answer, sweetheart." The redhead walked away from the blonde who was dressed in a very sexy attire. Diane replied through the mirror. "Because Rick is the only exception to anything." The blonde droned what you have said to her a million times before. She finally faced the redhead when she sat on her bed. "Rick might be, but I'm not. You don't have to force yourself to act like this. We only need to keep up public appearances, this private stuff doesn’t affect us at all. Helping me doesn't benefit you at all, quite the opposite, it's hurting you." Diane offhandedly mentioned.  Roxx rolled her eyes in which Diane obviously saw. "Sweetheart, don't sweat the small stuff. What I do concerns me and since it's not affecting you, you shouldn't care of my actions as of late." She got up from the bed and pulled Diane in front of a full body mirror, fixing her up and smoothing the dress of wrinkles. "Tonight, you and Rick will have the evening, and most likely the entire tomorrow, to yourselves. You and him are going to a nice dinner, some miscellaneous adventure, then go to some fancy shmancy hotel where you'll fuck like rabbits. I'll hold the fort down here. Now go." Roxx shooed the blonde away toward the front entrance where there was a blue haired penguin. She went up to him and gave a kiss on the cheek while giving a credit card to Diane. "I'll cover. Try not to run me dry." Roxxane said. "No promises." Rick replied instead with a smirk. Diane looked at her and there seem to be a shift in the atmosphere between them before Rick swept Diane off her feet and carried her to the car. Roxx watched as the front door closed and she was all alone in the house. She let out a breath of relief. Rick asked her months ago to get along with Diane, he seemed to really want this to work. She agreed, but only after a few arguments, shots, and single viable point. The redhead heard crying and she quickly went to the source. As she picked up a blonde small human to hum back to sleep, the single viable point which made her agree to be tolerable of Diane looked up at her and smiled. Her heart shattered that day, but also seemed to grow larger.