#note how robert passes his drink to his free hand before going in for the kill

[farewellsickle]

@gato-hedonista the people hauve spoken. YAOI BEAM!!!!

would you believe they both still think theyre casual after this

[attapullman]

Robert From Next Door | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You've lucked out with the perfect neighbor, a kind and overly helpful WSO. He puts up Christmas lights, lends his lawn mower, and grabs your morning paper. But what happens when he's out of peppermint tea one night?

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings & Notes: Robert "Bob" Floyd x gn!reader, extremely fluffy, food mentions, heavy making out, shirtless Bob, only referred to as Robert for the series, unrealistic expectations of next door neighbors, 18+ as always. This idea hit me like a bus while walking the dog (where I almost was hit by a bus) and has been fully unable to leave my brain since then. Cozy, sweet, overly helpful Neighbor!Bob is literally all I want for Christmas. And he's my holiday present to all of you!

robert from next door | if only the neighbors knew

“I have a ladder you can borrow.” You look up from the box of Christmas lights you’re detangling in the garage to see your neighbor standing in the opening to the street. Coffee mug in hand as he watches you loop out another knot. He’d noticed your garage open that morning, too early for a Saturday, and came to investigate or possibly offer assistance. If there is one thing Robert Floyd does best, it’s help his neighbors.

You had moved into the tidy bungalow just under a year ago, placing a potted fern on the doorstep and painting over the dated beige walls. It was finally starting to feel like a home. Now with the holidays approaching (as reminded by the entirely too jolly Santas everywhere in town) you were excited to start new traditions in your humble home. And it started with putting twinkling lights on the house, lights currently tangled in the cardboard box you haphazardly threw them in twelve months ago. 

Threading out another knot, you give him a playful smile. “How do you know I don’t have a ladder?”

“Lucky guess?” He’s not going to admit he’s scanned and memorized nearly every inch of your garage.

The day after the moving truck came and went, you were thrilled when your first new neighbor rang your doorbell. While you had expected some middle aged woman with a plate of brownies and a plea for babysitting, you were pleasantly surprised at the man in a flight suit (Lt. Robert Floyd according to the stitching) with the striking blue eyes who stood there instead. He didn’t have brownies, but he happily gave you the lowdown on the neighborhood as you sat amongst moving boxes drinking lemonade out of paper cups. 

As the months passed, an easy friendship had developed amongst neighbors. In the morning before making his way to base, Robert would scoop up your morning paper and walk it up the seven steps to your porch. The paper boy always threw it short. And despite numerous pleas to leave it be - you didn’t mind the short walk - every morning when you went for the paper, there it sat neatly on your mat along with any misdelivered mail.

And when he wasn’t saving kittens from trees in his free time, Robert was a shining example of a great neighbor. Driving his truck for a trip to get plants at the nursery, lending his mower when yours broke in the heat of July, cleaning your gutters when the leaves fell…you shouldn’t be surprised he’s now offering up his ladder so you can enjoy your Christmas lights. Looking down at the tangled mess, you hadn’t even thought about how you were going to get them actually on the house. Nails? Did you even own nails?

Not even an hour later you’re standing on the sidewalk facing your home with a hot cup of coffee in your chilly hands. Propped up on a ladder with detangled lights in one hand - and a tool belt around his waist like your personal Mr. Fix It - Robert hums to himself as he hammers nails into the trim before wrapping the first strand of lights in place. 

You had accepted his ladder graciously, but mentioned you needed to hit the hardware store first for nails. With a nod of his head he left your garage and you continued on the lights. It was a tedious project, but rewarding once the final strand lay flat against the concrete floor. You were digging around in boxes for tools when your neighbor reappeared. He had a ladder and his tool belt, a full box of nails clutched in his large hand. Cheeks warm, you assured him you would buy your own. He let out a playful pfft.

“Nonsense. It’s Saturday, the hardware store will be packed. Consider them an early Christmas gift.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Let me at least trade you for them? A cup of coffee?”

“Do you still have those Kona beans?” His ocean blue eyes are hopeful.

Your smile widened as you nodded. The overpriced beans you had expensively shipped every month were a favourite of the weapons systems officer. Last month you had hosted the homeowners association meeting (for the first and hopefully only time) and Robert had raved about the coffee you served. He was used to the basic stuff they made on base, his own home brewing not much better. Your coffee was the best.

When you came back to the garage after whipping up a carafe - hot mug in hand - you shouldn’t have been surprised to see your neighbor already up the ladder, deep into the project.

You holler up to him. “Robert, get down! You don’t need to do that!”

But he waves you off, insisting that he had already started and might as well finish the job. He would just drink your delicious coffee once he was done. And so you were relegated to the sidewalk to make sure everything looked straight from the street. 

From this distance you could admire him innocently. The military-issue wire frames that catch the morning sun. Broad shoulders under the neat canvas barn coat he recently replaced when the corduroy collar ripped. His strong hands shielded from the chilled wind under his workman’s gloves. Because someone like Robert Floyd follows safety precautions and owns workman’s gloves. 

At this angle you can see the slight smile on his lips as he strings lights along your porch. For the next hour you watch him put up lights, him occasionally turning back and asking you how they look.

“Are you sure they’re straight?” You promise him they are, but he meticulously checks his work anyway. He wants your house to look perfect. 

The wind has tinged both your cheeks a deep pink and the cold is starting to seep through boots. Robert has nailed the last of your lights to the trim and deemed them faultless. He comes down the ladder and walks to stand beside you to admire his handiwork. Hands on hips - with that damn tool belt still astride his waist - he turns to you beaming at a job well done. It’s impossible not to beam back, thinking how long it would have taken you to do even a job half as good.

“Thank you for putting up the lights. You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” He isn’t sure whether your cheeks are red from the cold or something else. “I’m so lucky to have you as a neighbor.”

His smile is permanently stuck at your compliment. He opens his mouth to make a joking comment about the coffee you owe him - anything for more time together - when he feels the telltale buzz in his pocket. Pulling it reluctantly out after shedding a glove, he sees it’s Phoenix and is only semi-annoyed. They have lunch plans, which he’s running late for. And while he’s sure his front seater would approve of him blowing her off for the neighbor he can’t stop talking about, he’s a better friend than that.

Turning back to you, where you’re enjoying your freshly strung twinkling lights, Robert rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I have to head out…lunch plans. Rain check on that coffee?”

Nodding through your disappointment, you help him gather up his ladder and assure him that coffee is his whenever he wants.

The following morning you pad toward your front door, eyes bleary from a deep sleep. The house was cold and you pull your robe tighter around you. Through the glass panel in the door you can see your paper on the mat, as always, ready for you to consume over coffee and toast. As you open the oak door and scurry to shut it with the paper secured, something - or rather someone - catches your eye. 

Robert stands in the doorway of his own bungalow, calmly watching the neighborhood. The thick fair isle sweater covering his wide shoulders looks incredibly cozy, and he nurses a mug between both hands. He exists in that moment without worry, and you’re envious. 

His placid expression is broken when he feels your eyes, turning his head to see you, bedhead and newspaper clutched in your fist. His lips turn in a warm smile and he raises one hand in a slow, friendly wave. Your heart flutters, utterly taken away with how surely he carries himself, how sweetly he treats others. An emotion quickly squashed when you realize you are still standing in a bathrobe and knobby socks, flying back inside and shutting the door with heated cheeks. 

As you go about working on your Sunday chores, you keep picturing Robert’s face, that small happy smile you can’t get out of your head.

Later that night, after hours of tossing and turning in the sheets unable to find peace, you finally trudge down the hall into the living room, settling under blankets on the plush couch with a cup of chamomile. You’ve lost details of the plot of the movie you started, brain racing as your fingers fidget with the mug. 

The faint trill of your phone on the coffee table breaks you from your thoughts.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Bo-Robert…from next door?” You yawn a hello while checking the clock. It was nearly one in the morning. “I just wanted to check if everything was alright? Noticed your lights were on.” 

A warm feeling spreads through your chest at his concern. Picturing him peering out his kitchen window with the striped cotton curtains, filling up his own kettle, distressed that your house lights were on so late. You’d like to think he wore tartan pajamas, neatly buttoned. Those would suit him. 

You settle back into the cushions as you reply. “Everything’s fine. Just couldn’t sleep.”

His thoughtful nod can practically be heard through the phone.

“Better question is, what are you doing up so late?” 

The whistle and clink of boiling water and china crash over the line. A sigh pulled from his lips before responding. “I was going to make myself a cup of tea while I finished some reports, but appears that I am out.”

You glance down at your own mug of tea. It’s late, but not that late.

“What kind of tea do you like?” He muses on about his lack of preference - an equal opportunity tea lover - before admitting he was looking forward to a cup of peppermint. You make your way to the kitchen, phone pressed to your ear as you both open your cupboards. Your voice feels small as you offer, “I think I might have some.”

A silence lingers on the line. An unspoken late night implication that neither of you knows what to make of it. Your fingers flip through boxes of tea that take up too much cupboard space. Pomegranate, green, oolong. You don’t even drink tea that often. But right as you think you have too many white teas, you see the striped box of peppermint tea, one lone bag waiting for its turn.

You empty the box and walk to the window in your kitchen, where you can see the faint light on through his curtains. You clear your throat. “Look out your kitchen window.”

To your disappointment, Robert does not wear tartan pajamas to sleep. Although you are delighted to see his shirtless chest, defined from years of Navy training. He waves at you through your respective kitchen windows, holding up his mug of hot water. You lift up the tea bag, and his face splits into a toothy smile.

Before you can offer to bring it to him, he’s already turning toward his front door, speaking into the phone, “I’ll be over, just a minute. Need to find my coat.”

By the time there’s a soft knock on the door, you’ve turned on the kettle and gotten a fresh mug for him. You open the door, greeted by the tip of his nose and ears a merry red, the cold kissing his features. He’s been outside all of a minute. You usher your neighbor in, watching him observe how you’ve put up garlands and festive knickknacks in the entry since his last visit.

He slips off his boots, bare feet settling on the cold hardwood, and fingers the collar of his canvas barn coat. In his rush to come over he’d thrown his coat on forgetting his bare chest. It feels obnoxious to be half naked in your home, so he keeps his coat on and follows you to the kitchen. 

“Peppermint still good?” You tease, the packet of tea leaves in your hand. He nods, slightly distracted by how cozy you look in your soft loungewear and the robe from this morning. Dunking the bag into the hot water, you search for a topic to pass the steeping time. But when you turn to talk to him, words catch in your throat because he’s right there.

Eyes so blue the sky is jealous. Shy smile so friendly it warms the room. Your thoughts dirtily flit to the tool belt around his waist on the ladder, fingers adeptly wielding a hammer. Fingers that brush yours in the proximity. He’s so close and your brain blanks as bodies simultaneously take action.

Your mouths find each other effortlessly, bodies pressing together as if they know the moves the two of you were just figuring out. The low-lying tension building for the past year breaking the surface as the dark of the house gives you both the bravery needed. His hands are cold as they find your waist, your hands too warm on his chilled jaw.

His mouth is all soft lips and hard pressure, the faint hint of toothpaste in his taste. It’s exactly as you imagined, but better.

Lips become more desperate the longer you connect, your back suddenly against the counter as he presses into you. This moment has been building since he’d watched you first walk up the front steps with that too big moving box. A hand slips into his sun-bleached locks he always has so perfectly combed. He moans into your mouth, a sinful noise in the quiet kitchen. 

Before sense can interrupt, you’re reaching for the zipper of his coat, revealing every inch of his toned pale chest as the zipper slowly comes down. You slide a hand over the skin, a low gasp slipping out at the strong muscle. You’ve been attracted to his mind for so long, it feels unfair his body should be attractive too.

He shrugs out of the barn coat and follows you to the lowly lit living room, where the couch is softer on your back than the counter edge. Sitting side by side, knees knocking, he’s more hesitant to touch you in this context. Despite his body screaming to explore every inch of his pretty neighbor’s mind and body, he knows he’s basically barged into your home and immediately stuck his tongue in your sweet mouth. You get to set the pace. 

“This okay?” His hand encompasses your knee, thumb rubbing smoothly through the fabric. You nod, tilting your head toward him to continue kissing. He’s warmed up now, your home and body bringing him to temperature. Robert smiles into your kiss. You can’t get enough of him, wanting to consume him fully. He’s delicate with you in the most delicious of ways; gentle kisses pressed to your soft lips before sliding his tongue across to politely ask for access.

Your mouth can’t open fast enough.

You place you hand on his hip, enjoying the warm skin and lean muscle beneath your fingertips. Groaning lightly into your mouth, he blindly reaches for your hips to bring you into his lap. His tongue takes its time to taste you, learn every intricacy of your flavor. Administration so thorough your eyes roll back in your head. The sounds escaping you music in the darkened room.

Fingers dance across skin, finding purchase on thighs, shoulders, chests. You can’t get close enough to him, resting one hand on the back of his neck as your swollen lips press harder to his. Robert loves the way your thighs straddle him as he leans against the couch cushions, his warm, large hands along your back bringing you closer to him. Your sharp inhale as one hand toys with the waistband of your lounge pants.

When his lips trail down your neck, praising the delicate skin, you can’t hold back your declaration any longer. “I…I’ve wanted this for a while.”

His lips pause, brow furrowed. “This?”

“You.”

That gratified smile will forever be imprinted along your neck. “I’ve wanted you since the day you moved in.”

The whimpers that rip through you when he nips the thin skin behind your ear have him grabbing your chin and swallowing your sounds. Reveling in the shared passion you’ve both had simmering beneath the surface. Can’t help his hips rutting up into yours, glorious friction he’s been craving satisfied. You giggle through a moan against his lips.

“So, we could have been doing this all year long? What a shame, lieutenant.” 

You ground down in his lap, running your own tongue along his lips and savoring his taste. Thoughts of what he tastes like after his peppermint tea have you wrapping your arms tighter around his bare shoulders. Behind his head, outside the window, the faint glow of the Christmas lights he strung up shines in the winter night. How did you find this perfect man, and how is he your neighbor?

You express your gratitude for him with your mouth along his jaw, licking along the skin while he deliciously whimpers in your ear.You can only take so much before you’re sealing your lips over his again, inhaling his every breath.

As lips finally reach exhaustion - brains well past tired as the clock strikes a new hour - Robert and you pull apart with content smiles. Already cold without his warmth, you immediately lean back into him. He’s practically a furnace now under your ministrations. Unspoken words pass between as you invite him to sleep on your couch with you. A throw blanket produced from the nearby chair as the two of you tangle your limbs. There’s something comforting in the way he rests your head upon his arm, your knee upon his thigh. Again, it’s like your bodies know the actions like they’ve been waiting for you to finally figure them out.

You’ve just settled your head upon his warm chest when a thought strikes you, prompting you to lean up to look at those sleepy cerulean eyes. The small curious smile he gives you melting your heart.

“Did you still want your tea?” 

He shakes his head with a chuckle, using the last of his energy to tuck the blanket tighter around your body. “It’s okay. I got what I really wanted.”

Your heart feels two sizes too big as he presses a kiss to your temple before sleep takes you both. 

When the winter sunrise streams through your curtains the next morning, you refuse to get up. Perfectly warm wrapped up in the thin throw and your neighbor’s arms, you are purely too content. When Robert blinks open his eyes and gazes at your face, he sees the same placid smile he wore the morning before. The same one he’s had since you moved in next door. 

Despite both being all too happy to remain entangled on the couch, sharing small kisses on any skin within reach, the responsibilities of Monday morning dawn and you must get up. Reluctantly you release him, watching him fold the throw neatly upon the sofa arm before helping you stand. Warmth blossoms down your spine the more you’re in Robert’s presence, the little things he does meaning so much to you. Especially as he strides through your home shirtless, musing about the whereabouts of his coat on the kitchen floor.

Your eyes flit to the cold mug of abandoned peppermint tea as you offer him coffee. But he’s intent on getting home for his flight suit, the drive to base longer than he’d like. Of course, he would ideally spend the morning drinking your expensive delicious coffee and listen to you go on about the neighbors down the street with the atrocious holiday decorations. If you’d let him, he would spend every morning like that for the rest of time. But his admiral would put him in drills all week if he was any later.

You walk him to the door, robe pulled tight across your chest to keep out the cold. He’s pulled on his boots for the short walk and wraps his arms around you in an intimate embrace, disappointed this perfect night must come to an end. You bury your nose in his jacket-covered chest to enjoy the last of his herbal and citrus scent, hands reluctantly slipping from his middle. He turns to leave and both your hearts pang.

When Robert reaches the end of your path, he bends down and picks up the paper, thrown too short as always. He turns around and retraces his steps, walking back up the steps and straight up to where you reside in the doorway still. Fingers brush as he hands you the newspaper, saving you the walk as he always does. Only this morning he tips his head to press a kiss to your lips.

You’re already adding peppermint tea to your shopping list as you walk back into the house. Just for him.

see what antics happen at the next HOA meeting

taglist: @callsign-mongoose

[lovelytsunoda]

shut up and put your money where your mouth is // oscar piastri

summary: the reserve drivers have a little mischief pool going, keeping themselves occupied on weekends where they have nothing better to do. until nico hulkenberg pushes y/n and oscar a little too far and makes them confront how they feel about each other

pairing: oscar piastri x female alfa romeo! reader

warnings: alcohol is involved, drinking games are played (spin the bottle, seven minutes in heaven) and a massive prank war is waged on every driver in the paddock, implied smut scene at the end, but no smut is written. sexual innuendos because jack doohan is a little shit, y/n is too cool for oscar (she's also really mean to fernando but in a funny way . . . sorry nando) mentions of a crash ( everybody was fine, y/n is just still feeling the emotional effects )

author's note: so for a while now i've been wanting to make a story or a fic that focuses on the reserve drivers because i feel like they all sort of get forgotten, so this fic is dedicated to the reserves and those who hide behind the scenes : )

"alright, jamie and logan got the extra dye from alex, liam and dennis are going to distract the old man." y/n started eagerly, making grabby hands towards logan sargeant, who gave her a strange look before passing over the bottle of red hair dye. "oscar, do you and jack have a way of getting into his driver's room?"

the reserve drivers were standing outside the alpine hospitality building, mischeif in their eyes as a plan started brewing. the reserve and development drivers were only performatively employed through driver's academies. they had no real reason to be there on race weekends. very rarely were they actually needed.

it was natural for them to get bored, expected, even. because who wanted to stand around and look at data all day when it didn't even affect them? who wanted to take a ten hour flight to another continent just to sit around and do nothing all race weekend except look good for the team?

and that's when nico hulkenberg had made his proposal. every season, it was a new game. always disruptive to the regular drivers, always chaotic and more than once it got guenther steiner swearing at the lot of them. two teams, a season full of dares and challenges.

and may the best pranksters win.

jack doohan nodded. "it was shockingly easy to get his keys. all you've gotta do is find a way to swap out his shampoo for the dye. and then when he goes to take a shower after free practice," jack clapped his hands together. "his hair will be red before the old codger knows what hit him."

their team was the young guns, the under twenty-fives. there were more of them than anybody else, but they were competing against guys who had been there way longer: nico hulkenberg, antonio giovinazzi, robert schwartzman, nyck de vries, stoffel vandoorne and pietro fittipaldi

"i'll come inside with you. since the contract thing started, people in alpine hospitality have been giving me a wide berth." oscar piastri shrugged his shoulders, hands in the front pockets of his black chinos, making his alpine polo ride up, exposing a sliver of his toned stomach.

y/n sucked in a barely audible breath, hoping that nobody around noticed.

she wasn't sure when she developed a crush on the aussie f2 champion, but she knew it wouldn't lead her anywhere good. never mix business and pleasure, so she had always been told.

no, it was better to leave oscar to his own devices. to pretend she felt nothing towards him.

"you don't have to." she said gently, pulling a denim jacket over her alfa romeo polo. with any luck, she was little-known enough that the hospitality staff wouldn't recognize her and just let her pass through.

worst comes to worst, she could always pretend she was coming to say hi to abbi pulling, who had recently signed to the alpine young driver's programme.

"you don't even know where his driver's room is."

she hated it when oscar was right. "fine." she pouted, hooking her fingers in her belt loops. "but let's make it quick, before daddy szafnauer gets the wrong idea."

jack snorted, and logan shook his head, wishing he could leave the conversation.

"excuse me, what?" the american frowned, raising his eyebrows. "there's something wrong with you."

"what?" she laughed, sipping from her plastic starbucks cup.

god, oscar would never tire of that sound, the visual of y/n throwing her head back, smile splitting her features as her hair spilled down her back.

"he's like, the fourth most fuckable team principal. don't even get me started on daddy toto."

"there's a scale?" jack looked scandalized. "i am but a mere child, too innocent for this!"

oscar snorted. "according to the country of australia, you're street legal, doohan."

"here's the scale: toto, jost, andreas, otmar, christian, mattia, mike, guenther, fred, franz. i'd fuck ted kravitz, too. don't underestimate daddy kravitz."

somehow, at the revelation that y/n wanted to fuck toto wolff, oscar's ego ached. if her type was six foot five austrian men old enough to be her father twice over, what chance did he have?

'"i know way too much about you." logan shook his head, beginning to walk backwards. "good luck fucking fernando over- bad word choice given that last conversation, let me know how it goes."'

y/n laughed, playfully punching oscar in the arm. "come on, alpine's most wanted. i've got an old man's day to ruin and a self-centered german to upstage."

y/n tossed the bottle in the air, catching it with a grin as she brushed past oscar and headed into the hospitality suite.

oscar watched her go with wide, bright eyes, attempting to casually hide the boner forming in his khaki's as his eyes zeroed in on the alfa romeo driver's sashaying backside, made extra prominent by her tight black jeans.

"you coming, problem child?" she shouted, a bright smile on her face as she stuck her head out of the glass door.

"coming in just a second!"

"i'm sure he's coming in more ways than one." jack snorted, patting oscar on the shoulder. "you are so whipped, mate. and you aren't even getting good sex out of it. that's a crime, oscar!"""i'm sure he's coming in more ways than one." jack snorted, patting oscar on the shoulder. "you are so whipped, mate. and you aren't even getting good sex out of it. that's a crime, oscar!"

"fuck off!" oscar whined, pushing jack's hands away as he sauntered up the hospitality steps. "i'm doing it for my commitment to the bit."

he wished that he had sounded like he believed it, but everybody knew that he didn't.

everybody knew that he did it because he was head over heels for y/n y/l/n.

he ran to catch up to her, directing the testing driver in the direction of fernando alonso's diver's room. fernando was never the original target of that prix weekend's scheme. in fact, y/n was never supposed to be the person who planned it. this was supposed to be frederik vesti's weekend to plan and execute the scheme.

but after an unfortunate incident in fp1 resulted in fernando cutting y/n off and sending her into the wall, cutting her coveted rookie driving session short, a session she had fought freddie vasseur tooth and nail to steal away from theo pourchaire, plans had changed and she'd swapped weekends with fred.

drawing the keys out of her jacket pocket and offloading her frappucino on the australian standing next to her, she opened the unmarked door to fernando's room, rolling her eyes at the massive spanish flag hanging on the wall.

"where's the fucker's shampoo? he doesn't get to ruin my one young driver session and get away with it." she started pacing, hands reaching to the back of her head to tap on the brim of the backwards baseball cap she was wearing. "changing his hair color is fucking mercy compared to what i should be doing to him."

"shower's are that way." oscar nodded, cocking his head towards a royal blue hallway. "how many points do you think this is going to get us with the hulk? you have to admit, that stunt he pulled on crofty and brundle last week was kind of legendary."

y/n rolled her eyes, heading towards fernando's shower and wishing she had brought gloves. seriously, what do old men get up to when they shower? she didn't want to find out. she could get a goddamn staph infection just from stepping foot in the damn thing.

"all nico did was fuck with the microphones. they fixed it in less than half an hour. all that happened was making sure that fp1 was narrated by darth vader." she shook her head, wincing as she reached into fernando's shower, wishing she could have gotten somebody else to do it. "nico shouldn't even be doing the scoring if he's participating. why can't kubica do it? he's a neutral party."

but there wasn't enough money in the world to pay one of the other reserves to stand in fernando alonso's shower.

she uncapped the bottle of men's head and shoulders, overturning it in the bathroom sink as she turned on the faucet, watching the thick, cream colored liquid bubble and fizz as it went down the drain.

"robert made it damn clear that he wants nothing to do with this." oscar laughed, trying to decipher the label on the side of the starbucks cup, curious to see what sweet concoction was in the cup, especially knowing that she didn't like to drink coffee.

"understandable. i think robert's kind of done with everybody's bullshit. mostly theo's, though. frankly, so am i. truth be told, i think vasseur wants me gone." she frowned, twisting open the bottle of red dye that logan had given her and upending it over the plastic bottle. "i don't think that he's a fan of the fact that i'm never going to drive competitively."

"that's a bullshit reason for him to fire you."

"that's what i said!" y/n complained, throwing her hands in the air as she waited for the thick red dye to drain. she wasn't even sure if her plan was going to work: fernando's hair was dark, and it was arguable that the color might not even show unless the spaniard bleached it first. "i've never wanted to drive competitively, but after what happened in magny-cours, i'll never be able to compete again."

she had never wanted the fame, the glory, the champagne and the trophies. all she'd ever wanted to do was drive. she'd had a mediocrely successful season with the w series in 2019, followed up by half a season in formula three before a three-car crash had broken four bones in her foot.

she could still drive, and she loved her job working in testing and development, but she could tell that frederic vasseur was tiring of prepping and training a driver that was never going to make it to f1. a driver that would never compete in anything ever again. the crash had stolen all of her self-confidence, and there was nothing she could do other than pack all of her dignity in a box and walk out of the prema garage, terrified to ever race again, for fear of another incident occurring. her partnership with the ferrari driver's academy had fallen through a year later, and she counted her blessings every day that alfa romeo had rescued her from the wreckage of what she had seen her life becoming.

shaking her head as she realized that the dye bottle was empty, she rinsed it out before stowing the evidence in her jacket pocket and putting the cap back on the shampoo bottle before thrusting it back into fernando's shower.

"come on, piastri." she grinned, taking her drink back from the academy driver. "let's get out of here. all we can do now is wait for the old man to have a shower, and then nico is going to have to give in and declare us the winners."

they got their answer three hours later.

y/n was walking through the paddock with jamie chadwick and jessica hawkins, twirling her paddock pass between her fingers as she made small talk with the girls she considered to be her best friends.

"so, y/n . . . " jess started, the pom pom on her signature beanie hat bouncing as the brit walked. "are you finally going to tell oscar?"

"nope." she answered. too fast, always too fast when it came to feelings. too quick to catch them, even quicker to deny them. especially when they concerned the boy at the center of every f1 news story in the last two weeks, ever since he had announced he would not be signing with alpine, but in fact would be ousting daniel ricciardo from mclaren. "never. no feelings whatsoever."

"aw, jess, look at her face go all red." jamie laughed, nudging y/n's side. "she's definitley in love with piastri."

"um, go fuck yourselves. both of you." she laughed, trying to hide how flustered she was. she had been waiting all day for fernando to come running out of hospitality, cussing her out in spanish at the top of his lungs. "the way my life is going, i might not even be around the paddock next year. i've actually started looking into testing for formula e, maybe i can become a reserve driver or something there. mclaren will need people."

"vasseur finally sick of seeing your face in his garage?" jess replied sadly. "i'm sorry, love. freddie just has a stick up his ass and someone needs to yank it out. with force."

the girls laughed, arms around shoulder's as they kept walking down the paddock. y/n froze, reaching for jess and jamie's arms, trying to get them to slow down before they walked past the alpine suite. jack and oscar were sitting on the patio with liam and dennis, waiting to see the fruits of their labour.

"who did this?! which pendejo is responsible!?"

"jesus fucking christ." jess groaned. "please tell me that you didn't."

on y/n's other side, jamie extended her hand for a low high five. "so that's what the dye was for." she laughed as the front door to alpine hospitality swung open, a furious fernando alonso standing on the front steps.

his hair was still soaking wet, but it was clear to everybody in a five mile radius that his hair was now a very vivid cherry red. the pure look of rage on the spaniard's face should have been enough to send a shockwave of terror through her body.

instead, it just made her feel alive.

at the patio table, the four boys had collapsed in laughter. jack had his head buried in his hands while liam had his phone out to videotape the entire encounter.

"did you cabrons do this?" fernando roared. "as if what you've done to the sanctity of this team wasn't enough!"

"oscar, run!" she could hear dennis hauger shout through his fit of laughter.

oscar stayed put, laughing to himself as he looked over at y/n.

and when he winked at her, she thought her legs would buckle, the butterflies spreading through her stomach so rapidly that she thought she might be sick.

she had been past the point of denying her feelings to herself a long long time ago, and now the aussie had a permanent place in her dreams, in both horny and wholesome ways. her fingers had become quite acquainted with the motions they robotically performed whenever oscar piastri appeared in her late-night fantasies.

"oi fernando!" she shouted, throwing her middle finger up in the air, ignoring all the patrons and crew members who were gawking at the alpine driver. "that's for sending me into the barriers, you old cunt!"

when fernando turned back to her, jessica grabbed her hand, and in a fit of laughter the three girls took off down the paddock to the aston martin garage.

nico hulkenberg had decided to award ten points for that stunt.

he had given himself eight points for the darth vader microphone trick.

the war would continue for weeks upon weeks, only stopping for the summer break. jessica and y/n had teamed up with liam to cover lawrence stroll's desk in plastic wrap, rendering it unusable and relishing in watching the multi-millionaire throw a fit when he couldn't figure out how to get the plastic wrap off his ikea desk. ( worth eight points. )

robert schwartzman and antonio giovinazzi had countered that by gluing clown wigs to the headphones used by the ferrari pit wall. to this day, mattia still didn't know who was responsible. ( worth five points. ferrari were already enough of a joke as is. )

and suddenly they were in sao paolo, and the season was almost over. begrudgingly, hulkenberg had relented and crowned the younger group the winners.

y/n had hefted the large lego trophy with a proud look on her face, standing in the center of oscar piastri's king-sized hotel bed while the other reserve drivers clapped for her from the floor.

they had gathered together for one last hurrah, a night without pranks or fighting or superiority complexes. a night to celebrate: logan, nyck, oscar and nico were all being promoted.

and y/n had news of her own that she planned to announce after the season ended in abu dhabi: she would be leaving f1 to go to formula e and act as the reserve and development driver for avalanche andretti now that she knew for certain that vasseur would not be renewing her alfa contract for another year.

jamie would be leaving for indy nxt, and liam for japanese super formula. it was truly their last night all together, their last night of things being the way that they used to be.

"i think we need to end this season properly." pietro insisted, reaching for the bottle of ferrari trento that was in the middle of the circle where they were all sitting. "it's our last season together, so forgive me for growing attached to you motherfuckers."

with news of nico returning to grid with his new place at haas, he had been quick to hand the reins of the prank war to his young apprentice. pietro fittipaldi intended to take his job very seriously, and was already dividing the teams for the 2023 season.

"psst, i'll still be around." y/n said, hopping down from the bed. "someone's gotta keep piastri in check. and who else is going to remind you all just how fuckable your bosses are."

"ugh, never say those words again, i beg you!" antonio begged. "if i ever hear you talk about 'daddy mattia' again, i swear i will put a laxative in your drink, just like i did to steiner."

the laxative stunt had won giovinazzi eight points, but at what cost? guenther had been pissed off for the rest of the weekend, and there had been a smell lingering around the haas motorhome despite f1's best efforts at cleaning it up.

y/n just laughed, holding out her plastic solo cup. "hit me, fittipaldi. i want as much champagne as can fit in this glass."

pietro shook his head, but abided the testing driver's request, filling the solo cup up to the line.

"what do you say that we make this night a little more interesting?" jack doohan proposed, looking over at oscar and y/n out of the corner of his eye.

the two young adults were sitting directly next to each other, their knees touching through their jeans. and then jack suddenly had the best worst idea ever.

he turned to liam, lowering his voice and whispering something into the kiwi's ear before they both burst out into sly grins.

"oi, fitti, how much champagne is left in that bottle?"

pietro frowned, looking at the green glass bottle in his hands. "like, a third. why?"

"just drink it so we can use the bottle." liam suggested, offering up his own solo cup. "pour the rest of it in here."

"nope." robert schwartzman cut in. "liam, i refuse to deal with your drunk ass again. that can be somebody else's problem today."

as pietro passed off the bottle, nico met liam's shit eating grin. still chuckling to himself, the red bull junior nodded in the direction of oscar and y/n, who were signing the nineties song blasting from pietro's phone in a very tipsy, our of key way. but somehow, they were perfectly in tune with each other, even if their rendition of 'hot in herre' didn't match up with one nelly was singing on the other end of the phone speaker.

nico's eyes widened as he watched jack set up the bottle in the middle of the circle.

they were going to play spin the bottle, but with the number of men outweighing the number of women, it was a set up for chaos. but even more than that, it was supposed to be a way to get two very specific lovesick idiots to finally admit how they felt about each other.

"who's ready for spin the bottle?!" liam shouted, being met with cheers from some of the other guys. guys who just wanted to see something really stupid that they could use as blackmail material.

but nobody missed how oscar and y/n instinctually moved away from each other as pietro shut the music off, a dusting pink on their cheeks as y/n moved to put jamie in between her and oscar.

"aren't we a little old for this?" stoffel vandoorne sighed. "we are grown ass adults."

liam shrugged. "you don't have to play if you don't want to."

"and let you jackasses have all the fun?"

"i say trophy bearer over there goes first." jack proposed, pointing at y/n.

nobody missed the way that her eyes flicked to oscar, nerves settling in her stomach. it was fine, she told herself. there was no way that the bottle would land on oscar. and next year, she'd be in a different paddock and her heart could cool down from all the ways that the aussie used to make it race.

taking a deep breath, she leaned forward to spin the empty trento bottle, nails scraping against the label. she closed her eyes, sitting back on her heels and crossing her fingers behind her back that god would be on her side.

hoping and praying that it wouldn't land on oscar.

and because her eyes were still closed, she didn't have a chance to watch jack nudge his foot into the circle, stilling the bottle's movements so that it landed on oscar piastri.

oscar's face flushed pink as he leaned back against the bed. next to him, liam and jack cheered, as did nico from the other side of the circle.

"oscar and y/n!" the german cheered. "now where's the closet? we're playing full seven minutes in heaven, out here we'll set the timer. you kids have fun." nico winked

trying not to make eye contact with each other, oscar and y/n got to their feet, slowly walking over to the closet like they had been sentenced to the gallows.

"ladies first." oscar coughed out, sliding the mirrored door open and allowing y/n to slip inside the confined space. the future mclaren driver followed her inside.

they stood less than two feet apart, breaths heavy.

"we don't have to do this if you don't want to." oscar said quietly. "nico is a jackass. we can just stand here and talk for seven minutes."

"oscar," she cut him off. "i need to tell you something." the time for being a coward was over. she wasn't going to be here next year. if oscar didn't feel the same, at least she wouldn't have to deal with seeing his stupid, pretty face every day. "i'm not coming back next year. vasseur told me that management is changing, and that the new guy isn't likely to keep me around if i'm never going to drive competitively again. i'm going to andretti, oscar. i'm going to be a formula e reserve in 2023."

"what? what do you mean you went to andretti?" oscar's voice was faint as he stared at her, his eyes slowly moving from her plump, pink lips, down to her tiny black garage top, the lace of her bralette peeking through the deep-cut collar, her cleavage on perfect display.

if he was ever going to do something with his feelings, now would be the time.

but y/n didn't even give him the chance, pressing up on her toes to smash her lips to oscar's, his hands flying to her waist. it was a searing kiss, all teeth and tongue as oscar pushed her back against the wall.

sometimes, a kiss could say more than words.

she moaned as oscar's hands squeezed her thighs through her army green flare pants, the aussie taking that moment to gently slip his tongue in between her lips. her fingers carded at his hair, gently pulling a small handful, eliciting a growl from the driver's throat before he changed his area of focus, hungrily kissing her neck.

y/n gasped at the feeling, a sensation made double as oscar's cold hands touched her skin, teasing the bottom of her shirt, running over her toned stomach.

"oscar." she whined, feeling a familiar ache in between her thighs. in the back her mind, she wondered if they were nearing the end of their seven minutes.

or if nico had even bothered to count.

they got their answer when a harsh knock on the closet door startled oscar so much that he tripped on his own feet, falling to the carpeted floor.

"time's up, kiddos!" stoffel shouted from the other side. "make yourselves decent and then get your asses back out here."

getting decent would be difficult: her hair was a mess, a hickey already forming on the side of her neck, and there was definitely a bulge in oscar's jeans that wasn't there when the duo entered the closet.

"fuck." she mumbled, resting her head against the wall. "what do we do?"

"it's my room." oscar reminded. "i can just kick them out, and we can finish what we started."

"good plan." y/n agreed, throwing the closet door open.

the pair stumbled out, and oscar found himself tugging the tails of his button up shirt over his crotch, hoping that nobody could tell how massively turned on he was.

"everybody out!" he shouted. "this night has been incredible, but i'm very tired and have things to do in the morning." he lied blatantly, dragging dennis and jack to their feet.

logan gave him a very confused look. "the fuck? tomorrow is race day? they don't need any of us."

"logan." jamie said gently "read the room."

it took the american a minute as the rest of the reserve drivers groaned, abandoning their night of champagne and debauchery. or at least, relocating it from oscar's room. but when the pieces clicked in his mind, his eyes went wide. "what the fuck? you're kicking us out so you can fuck, aren't you?"

"ew!" robert shouted. "god, you guys are terrible!"

jack and liam just winked at each other as they slipped into the hallway, thankful that their plan had worked, and that the two would finally stop being idiots around each other.

"yes, now get the fuck out unless you want to watch." y/n concluded, kicking theo pourchaire in the back to try and get him to stand up.

"wait, live porn is an option? i'll hide in the closet, i swear you won't even know that i'm there!" pietro shouted, half joking and half not as oscar pushed him through the doorframe.

"out!" oscar shouted again, holding the door open as all of the drivers walked out in single file.

"call us in the morning and tell us all about it, love." jessica winked at y/n as she and jamie followed stoffel out.

"oh of course." y/n agreed. "see you all in the morning. or not!" she shouted down the hallway before oscar closed and locked the door.

they stood toe to toe, soft smiles on their faces.

"hi, lover." she said softly, eyes on his lips.

"hi." he said, just as soft as he pressed his lips to hers. "no, where were we?"

"well, i think you were about to do this." she hummed, pulling her shirt over her head and dropping it to the ground.

oscar's eyes darkened at the sight. the lacy black bralette was even better now that he could see all of it, the halter strap sweeping up around the back of neck. as she spun around, he could see the thin strap draping low down on her back.

"god, you're beautiful." he rasped.

she wasn't prepared for how deep his voice was going to get, but it thrilled her to no end, knowing that she'd had that effect on oscar this entire time.

"you know what makes it even better?" she lowered her voice, pretending to be distracted as she started to undo the buttons on oscar's shirt. "i'm wearing a matching thong."

"bed, now." oscar insisted, sweeping her off her feet.

it was going to be a looong night.

[spontaniousmusicalnumbers]

Matthew and Mary Ficlet #2

Prompt: Matthew plots how to get Mary to visit a pub with him

A/N: Though I set out to wright something light and fluffy, the angst took over. Unfortunately, setting it between the trial and the Servant’s Ball is a fairly angsty time for Matthew so the tonal shift is probably truer to character.

Matthew rested his head on the back of the train seat and closed his eyes. It had been an incredibly long day. He and his mother had risen early and gone to York for a murder trial. His cousin’s valet had been charged with the murder of his first wife and had, unfortunately, been convicted. Matthew and Isobel had chosen to support Mr. and Mrs. Bates along with Mary, though if Matthew was honest with himself, he had only gone for Mary. Mary’s maid, Anna, was the unfortunate Mrs. Bates and he knew that Mary would be by Anna’s side. Matthew had worried that Mary would need as much help as possible to help keep Anna calm, and as a lawyer, Matthew felt he could help explain the proceedings to the two ladies.

After the verdict, Robert and Mr. Murray had suggested that they take Anna to a pub to help calm her nerves and explain the next steps. Isobel, Matthew and Mary decided to join in as well, Mary devoutly holding Anna’s hand the entire time. As Mr. Murray and Matthew talked over how to get the sentence commuted to life imprisonment rather than death, Matthew couldn’t help but think about how much he would be enjoying himself to be sat in a pub with Mary under different circumstances. As it was, he kept sneaking glances at her, seated to his left side, arm around Anna and eyeing her pint suspiciously. He had placed it in front of her with a flourish when they first sat down, and she had given him one of her sharp glares. “Do they not serve tea here?” was her only response. She had yet to touch the glass. Matthew suppressed a smile, noting to himself that this was not the time for one of their sparing matches.

However, now that they were on the train back to Downton, Matthew’s mind was free to wander. There was not much conversation in the carriage. Mr. Murray had gone directly to London. Robert and Isobel occasionally would attempt some small talk and Mary was sitting with Anna as tears streamed silently down the maid’s face. Matthew’s fingers itched to reach over and hold onto Mary’s hand which was sitting on her lap tantalizingly close to his own. He could feel the eyes of his mother—and her father—watching him and didn’t dare. He contented himself to instead catalogue the image of Mary in a public house into his brain. He smiled inwardly as he recalled the way she took one single sip from her drink with a pinched look on her face before turning to him and saying “there, I drank it. Happy now?”

He was not, it seemed, happy now. All he could think about was how to manage another pub outing with Mary. One where he would be free to tease her. Preferably without an army of chaperones or, heaven forbid, her odious fiancé. She had offered to come with him to lay Reggie Swire’s ashes in Lavinia’s grave; perhaps he could suggest that they go to the Gratham Arms and drink to his memory? No, that wouldn’t work. Isobel would be bound to join them in the churchyard, and he couldn’t very well not invite his mother to the pub with them. He thought of the time, years ago now, that he had invited her to inspect the refurbished cottages with him. That was the type of outing he would need to come up with. They had never managed to go see them. He had gotten mad at her for some misunderstanding and by the time they were friends again too much time had passed. And after that, well then there was the failed attempt at an engagement and the War.

He bitterly thought of all his regrets from the past six years, and now he would soon lose her forever. She hadn’t set a date for her wedding yet, but she had stubbornly insisted that she would still marry Sir Richard Carlisle. He had told her that she didn’t have to, that she would always be welcome with him, but it made no difference. Her grandmother had once told him that she still loved him. It wasn’t that he doubted Violet’s words—and there had been that one glorious kiss—but as her engagement to Carlisle dragged on, he couldn’t help but feel despair mounting inside him. He could feel her slipping through his fingers. He simply had to do something. Even if it was just to find a way to have one drink with her in a pub.

He and Isobel bid Robert, Mary and Anna goodbye at the station and walked home together in silence.  Once they got to Crawley House, they had a quick supper and Isobel announced that she would retire early. Matthew kissed her cheek and wished her good night. His head was still reeling from his turbulent thoughts, so he padded off to his study to read before turning in. He picked up his book, but soon cast it to the side, as it only kept Mary in his mind. She had given it to him for Christmas a little over a week before. He had picked out the same book for her and they were both reading it; planning to get together in a few days and discuss it. He caught sight of the notes he had begun to scribble in the margins and felt a pang in his heart. Would this be the last book they read together? He stood up and poured himself a healthy serving of whisky and downed it. He told Molesley to lock up and that he would not need any further assistance tonight. The last thing he wanted was for Molesley to fuss over him. He undressed quickly and climbed into bed, willing sleep to come quickly.

Unfortunately, it did not. He lay, staring at his ceiling, thoughts of Mary filling his brain. It wasn’t just the day’s memories that he puzzled over. There was also her assertion that she had to marry Carlisle and that he would despise her if he knew the reason. He had known—and loved—her for the past eight years. He could not imagine anything that could make him despise her, and he was plenty able to come up with horrifying scenarios to keep them forever apart. 

As the hours crept by and sleep evaded him, his mind kept returning to moments in his past. The first time he ever saw Mary; how he had been lamenting the current Earl and Countess pushing one of their daughters at him, only to find himself face to face with the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. One of their earliest dinners; she had challenged him, likening him to a hideous sea monster. The first time he held her hand; offering her sympathy over the unfairness of her father’s home and mother’s fortune being passed to him. The time they had laughed over a salty pudding and planned a visit to see the cottages; he thinking that maybe she did not despise his very existence, only to have his hopes dashed as she rushed to greet the “old bore” her mother had been pushing her at that night. He cursed himself for not listening to her the next day when she tried to apologize to him. Instead, he let his bruised ego brush her off. They had barely spoken to each other for months after. It wasn’t until Christmas that they had mended their fences. Every year the Crawley’s played charades on Christmas night and Robert put Matthew and Mary on a team together, hoping to break the ice between them. Matthew and Mary had surprised everyone by winning every round that night. It was that night that Matthew first had the idea to leave books for Mary. He spent the next few months hiding books around the Abbey for Mary to find. She never directly mentioned them but would make offhanded comments that let him know that she had read the books and suspected their origin. Before long he found a book sitting on a side table in his own drawing room that smelled faintly of Mary.  Next, he recalled a terrifying night: the night of the 1914 election. Mary’s younger sister had been injured in a fight. He had been in the right place at the right time to bring her home from the election and once he had ensured Sybil was in his mother’s capable hands, he rushed to the Abbey to fetch Mary. Mary was horrified to hear of her sister’s injury and to thank him for his gallant deed arranged for a supper of sandwiches to be served to him in the dining room. It was that night that he had kissed her for the first time, unable to hold back the emotions any longer. It was also then that he proposed. A rushed and sloppy proposal that had tumbled out of his mouth before his brain even registered that he was speaking. Mary had said she needed to think. He waited months for her answer, finally withdrawing his proposal, convinced that she did not love him. Another rash decision: one that he desperately wished he could take back.

Finally, he made the resolve that if nothing else, before the week was over, he would find some excuse to get Mary to join him for a friendly drink. They could laugh and joke and pretend that they had their whole futures together. And then he would bow out, move back to Manchester and leave her to her own life. His heart ached at the thought of life without Mary, but he knew he could not witness her life with Carlisle.

* * *

He woke more tired than he had felt the night before. He composed a note to Mary letting her know when to meet him to place Reggie’s ashes. In it, he included what he hoped was a casual invitation to go see the long-forgotten cottages. He hadn’t been around to see the job completed, after all. He had tried to think of some other ruse, but his mind kept returning, as if those blasted cottages had been the catalyst for all their missed chances.

He was pleased to receive a return note at teatime. Mary would be happy to join him on a tour. He began planning.  He asked Mrs. Bird to pack a picnic lunch for him, sandwiches, preferably the same as they had eaten that night in 1914. He wondered if Mary would notice. She probably would, she was sharp enough, but would she catch the significance of them? They would place the ashes tomorrow and go on their outing the following day. He breathed a sigh of relief that at least his plan was in action.

* * *

Laying Reggie’s ashes did not go as Matthew had planned. It was a somber affair, which Matthew had expected. What he had not expected was Mary’s startling announcement. She pronounced that she would soon be leaving, from the sound of it, much sooner than he was prepared for. The even more shocking announcement was when Isobel stated, as a matter of fact, that Mary was still in love with him.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but it’s as plain as the nose on your face,” she said bluntly.

Taken aback, Matthew said, “I thought you didn’t like her for throwing me over.”

“That’s a different conversation.”

“Mother, it has to be like this,” he protested. “I’m afraid I can’t explain why, at least…I’m not going to.”

“Something to do with Lavinia?”

“Maybe”

“Well, you see, I think you’re wrong,” Isobel began. “Lavinia wouldn’t have wanted this. She was a sweet girl, a kind girl. She wouldn’t have wanted you to be unhappy.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Matthew cut her off. “I deserve to be unhappy. So does Mary.”

“Nobody your age deserves that!” She turned to him, “and if you are, and you can do something about it and don’t, well, the war has taught you nothing.”

“That’s your opinion,” Matthew said, looking away from her.

“Yes, it is.”

Matthew shifted his weight and then stomped off out of the churchyard, his mother’s admonishment ringing in his ears.

* * *

That night as they entered the Abbey for dinner, Isobel once more implored her son to fight for Mary. She knew Matthew was stubborn, but she also knew that there was no one in the world that he loved more, nor was there anyone Mary loved more than Matthew. As it turned out, the fight for Mary became much more real than Isobel could have predicted. Mary had made the decision to call off her engagement to Sir Richard, something he was not prepared to take lying down. Soon the other members of the party could hear his raised voice emanating from the library. Matthew, unable to bear the thought of Mary dealing with his temper alone, rushed in to help. Isobel did not hear all of what was said, and Matthew certainly did not fill her in afterwards, but apparently a small scuffle had broken out between the two. Matthew emerged from the library, hair disheveled and bow tie askew announcing that he was ready to go home. He did not wait for Isobel or the car to be brought round, instead he stomped off into the darkness.

* * *

Isobel was shocked the following morning when Mary showed up at Crawley House. Molesley showed her into the drawing room and Isobel noted that she had clearly taken great care in selecting a fetching walking suit, one Isobel suspected was a favorite of Matthew’s.

“I’m sorry to surprise you, this morning” Mary began, perching on the sofa. “I had expected Matthew to come up to the House but when he didn’t, I thought perhaps I had gotten the time wrong. Since I was ready, I decided to come and meet him here.”

“Do you have plans with Matthew today?” Isobel asked, surprised. “He never said.”

“Oh,” Mary frowned, her perfect mask slipping for the briefest moment before she smiled and added, “it was nothing, really. Maybe he forgot, or I got the day wrong.”

Isobel was not used to seeing Mary seem so unsure of herself. She assured the girl that Matthew had probably lost track of the time and she would go find him for her.  What she found was Matthew, holed up in his study and brooding. “You do know Mary is here to see you?” she asked tentatively.

Matthew looked up, startled by Isobel’s voice. “No, I didn’t know. Why?”

“She seems to think the two of you had made plans for today.” Isobel answered. “She had expected you to collect her and when you didn’t, she walked here.” She noticed the color drain from Matthew’s face as he leapt to his feet.

“I completely forgot!” He seemed almost frantic as he started looking around his study. “I need to check with Mrs. Bird about the sandwiches, and I’m not dressed for walking!” Isobel watched with amusement. It was the liveliest she’d seen Matthew in ages.

“Tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.” She said supportively.

“Offer Mary some tea and tell her I’ll be down in a minute,” he said, turning around wildly. “I still can’t believe I forgot.”

Isobel assured her son that she would and turned to find Molesley. She ordered the tea and returned to find Mary reading a book that had been sitting in the drawing room. “He had a bit of a late start this morning,” she assured Mary, “but he’s just coming now. I’ve asked Molesley to bring you some tea while you wait.” She paused, noticing the book in Mary’s hands, “What were you reading? I don’t recognize that one.”

“Oh, this?” Mary shrugged. “It’s The Secret Garden, I loaned it to Matthew ages ago. He laughed at me for loving it so much, but I read A Little Princess to Sybil when she was young and it’s by the same author.”

Molesley brought the tea and the two women chatted politely about the weather and wondering if Mr. Murray had made any progress for Mr. Bates yet. Matthew burst into the room, still seeming flustered but there was no denying the sparkle in his eyes as they fell on Mary. “I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting,” he began as she rose from her seat. “I suppose we better head off while the weather is with us.”

Mary followed Matthew to the hall and noticed the basket that he was picking up. “What’s this?” she asked with a coy smile.

“I figured since I kept you waiting, we might miss luncheon. Mrs. Bird was kind enough to make us up a few sandwiches.” He smiled and opened the front door, stepping aside to let her pass through, thankful that his error had made the sandwiches seem more natural.

They set off down the lane, chatting amicably. He suspected that she knew that the whole outing was just a cover to spend time with her but at this moment he did not care. He hadn’t spent time without the added difficulty of one of them being engaged to someone else since before the War. They arrived at the cottages and rested against a wall eating their sandwiches.

“Of course,” Matthew began, “They’re occupied now so I can’t give you a tour of the inside changes like I would have when the work was being done.”

“Do you suppose Papa would have let us go into them on our own like this?” Mary said, the smile on her lips again. “It would be very scandalous, the two of us with no chaperone inspecting the dark nooks and crannies.” She tore a little corner of her sandwich nervously.

Matthew gulped. The thought of hiding away in some dark corner with Mary was almost too much to bear.

“You know, this kind of sandwich always makes me think of you.” She said, her voice low.

“Whyever for?” He asked, hoping against hope, it was for the same reason that they made him think of her.

“You probably don’t remember,” she said, her eyes trained on her hands, “but they’re what we ate together the night you proposed to me.”

Matthew swallowed the urge to whoop with joy and instead tried to put on a casual air as he said, “Oh? I hadn’t noticed. Given that you never even answered me, I’m surprised that you remember.”

“Oh Matthew,” she said, reminding him even more of that fateful night, “I’m so sorry that you ever doubted me. You must know that it wasn’t because of Mama’s pregnancy or even that I didn’t love you enough. Everything was so complicated, and I just couldn’t tell you. I still can’t. I know you’ll hate me all over again, and I just cannot lose your friendship.” She turned suddenly; Matthew too spellbound to ask what she could have meant by that confession. The wind picked up and she shuddered. “Golly, it’s cold today. Maybe a walk wasn’t the best idea.”

“You know,” he said, seizing the opportunity, “we’re not that far from the Grantham Arms. We could pop in there to warm up before I take you home.”

She turned back and gave him an appraising look. “You’re not just trying to get me to drink beer again, are you?”

“Why would you say that?” he asked, feigning innocence as they began the walk back to the pub.

“It’s just a thought,” she said smiling. “Don’t think I didn’t see all those glances checking to see if I drank the last one. I’ll go, but I don’t want beer.”

“I suppose beer is too middle class for you?” he asked chuckling, and very pleased at how well his plan was working.

“Don’t push your luck.”

“After you milady,” he said with a slight bow as he held open the door for her. “I’ll go fetch us drinks while you get a table.” Mary pursed her lips in derision but hurried off to find a place to sit. There were two tables available: one was right in the middle of the room and very public. The other was tucked back in a quiet corner. She knew which one she would prefer, the question was, how much trouble would she be in if word got back to mother, or worse her grandmother? In the end she chose the table that was more removed. She figured in the end that though the repercussions would be worse, the chances of her being spotted were less and those were odds she could deal with.

Soon, Matthew appeared by her side with two pints. “Now, before you say anything, yes, I do expect you to drink this.” He held up his hands to stop her protests. “It’s no use arguing with me, it will warm you up more than any cup of tea.” She made a face and took a sip. Matthew couldn’t help but laugh. He picked up his own glass, “No, you’ve got to do it like this.” He took a large swig.

“I will not!” she cried indignantly.

“You can’t say you drank beer if you’re only going to take those pitiful little sips.”

“Who says I want to say I’ve drank beer?”

“I think you’re afraid.” He teased. “You think people will think you’re too middle class if you do?”

“I am not afraid.” She eyed her glass. Slowly, she picked it up and raised it to her lips. Then she lowered it slightly, opened her mouth to say something, changed her mind, took a deep breath and began to chug down the beer. She finished it, placed it on the table and placed both hands on either side of it and panted slightly, trying to regain her composure.

“Brava,” Matthew said, clapping. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” She looked up and glared at him, her expression clearly telling him to wipe that smile off his face. “Would you like me to get something else more to your liking?”

“Yes” she panted.

Matthew got up to fetch her a cup of tea, still smiling. He was still troubled by her imminent departure and her conviction that he would despise her, but he’d deal with that later. For now, he would treasure this moment.

[elegantwoes]

In the pale dawn light, the young knight looked as though he were sleeping. He had not been handsome, but death had smoothed his rough-hewn features and the silent sisters had dressed him in his best velvet tunic, with a high collar to cover the ruin the lance had made of his throat. Eddard Stark looked at his face, and wondered if it had been for his sake that the boy had died. Slain by a Lannister bannerman before Ned could speak to him; could that be mere happenstance? He supposed he would never know

Perhaps I am conspiratorial by nature but I believe that Hugh was killed by command. Clegane may be a bloodthirsty and violent individual but I don't see him acting out without getting a sanction from his boss. This was under the order of someone else. I can feel it in my bones. Or maybe that is my vitamin D deficiency talking

The squires smiled nervously until the king turned on them. “You. Yes, both of you. You heard the Hand. The king is too fat for his armor. Go find Ser Aron Santagar. Tell him I need the breastplate stretcher. Now! What are you waiting for?” ... Always, though, the graver thoughts crept in. He could not help taking note of the two squires: handsome boys, fair and well made. One was Sansa’s age, with long golden curls; the other perhaps fifteen, sandy-haired, with a wisp of a mustache and the emerald-green eyes of the queen.

Look. Yet another adult who bullies children. Is it any wonder why Bob died thanks to Lancel? That is what happens when you relentlessly bully a young kid. It will bite you in the ass.

“The woman tried to forbid me to fight in the melee. She’s sulking in the castle now, damn her. Your sister would never have shamed me like that.” “You never knew Lyanna as I did, Robert,” Ned told him. “You saw her beauty, but not the iron underneath. She would have told you that you have no business in the melee.”

Now I can't help but imagine a world where Lyanna and Robert did marry. I know a certain type of fans (*coughs* dudebro asoiaf fans *coughs*) act like Robert would have treated Lyanna differently, but no. Robert would have turned any woman he was married to into a Cersei. Perhaps not to the extent that they would start an incestuous relationship with their brother and pass of their illegitimate children as legitimate (that is a Cersei thing lol) but Robert would have pushed any woman to the brink where they consider killing him so they are free from him and enjoy widowhood. And personally I would have cheered them on just like I cheered Cersei for killing him.

Ned turned back. Robert took up his horn again, filled it with beer from a barrel in the corner, and thrust it at Ned. “Drink,” he said brusquely. “I’ve no thirst—” “Drink. Your king commands it.”

This scene reminds me of another instance:

Sansa lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip. The wine was cloyingly sweet, but very strong. "You can do better than that," Cersei said. "Drain the cup, Sansa. Your queen commands you."

Like father like daughter (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

“Let me tell you a secret, Ned. More than once, I have dreamed of giving up the crown. Take ship for the Free Cities with my horse and my hammer, spend my time warring and whoring, that’s what I was made for. The sellsword king, how the singers would love me. You know what stops me? The thought of Joffrey on the throne, with Cersei standing behind him whispering in his ear. My son. How could I have made a son like that, Ned?” “He’s only a boy,” Ned said awkwardly. He had small liking for Prince Joffrey, but he could hear the pain in Robert’s voice. “Have you forgotten how wild you were at his age?”

If you don't like him so much, Ned. Then why in the fuck is he still betrothed to your daughter??!! (* ￣︿￣)

This was the boy he had grown up with, he thought; this was the Robert Baratheon he’d known and loved. If he could prove that the Lannisters were behind the attack on Bran, prove that they had murdered Jon Arryn, this man would listen. Then Cersei would fall, and the Kingslayer with her, and if Lord Tywin dared to rouse the west, Robert would smash him as he had smashed Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident. He could see it all so clearly.

I have nothing to say to this. I am that speechless. However, I will make on note though. The naivety of thirty five year old Ned is less crtiqued in this fandom than the naivety of eleven/twelve year old Sansa. Let that sink in for a moment.

Littlefinger overheard. “If you know who’s going to win the second match, speak up now before Lord Renly plucks me clean,” he called to her. Ned smiled. “A pity the Imp is not here with us,” Lord Renly said. “I should have won twice as much.”

Ned Stark is hearing all of this and yet never does it occur to him that Littlefinger has duped him with how he lost his dagger. Think Ned, just think. I beg of you. I am on my knees.

But Sansa had the right of it after all. A few moments later Ser Loras Tyrell walked back onto the field in a simple linen doublet and said to Sandor Clegane, “I owe you my life. The day is yours, ser.”

Look Cujo did one good deed. I suppose he should get credit for it. He gets a quarter of a brownie point from me.

That night at the feast, Eddard Stark was more hopeful than he had been in a great while. Robert was in high good humor, the Lannisters were nowhere to be seen, and even his daughters were behaving. Jory brought Arya down to join them, and Sansa spoke to her sister pleasantly. “The tournament was magnificent,” she sighed. “You should have come. How was your dancing?” “I’m sore all over,” Arya reported happily, proudly displaying a huge purple bruise on her leg. “You must be a terrible dancer,” Sansa said doubtfully

Arya and Sansa are finally get along after several weeks of tension. How cute.

Ned ran his fingers through his hair. Any decent master-at-arms could give Arya the rudiments of slash-and-parry without this nonsense of blindfolds, cartwheels, and hopping about on one leg, but he knew his youngest daughter well enough to know there was no arguing with that stubborn jut of jaw. “As you wish,” he said. Surely she would grow tired of this soon. “Try to be careful.”

So let me get this straight. You see your daughter finally learning something that she actually enjoys and what do you do? Consider putting an end to it. What is wrong with you Ned?

He took out the dagger and studied it. Littlefinger’s blade, won by Tyrion Lannister in a tourney wager, sent to slay Bran in his sleep. Why would the dwarf want Bran dead? Why would anyone want Bran dead?

You literally overheard a conversation that disproves this, but okay continue believing this lie, Ned. (╬▔皿▔)╯

He was at the door when Ned called, “Varys,” The eunuch turned back. “How did Jon Arryn die?” “I wondered when you would get around to that.” “Tell me.” “The tears of Lys, they call it. A rare and costly thing, clear and sweet as water, and it leaves no trace. I begged Lord Arryn to use a taster, in this very room I begged him, but he would not hear of it. Only one who was less than a man would even think of such a thing, he told me.” ...... Ned had to know the rest. Ned felt half-poisoned himself. “The squire,” he said. “Ser Hugh.” Wheels within wheels within wheels. Ned’s head was pounding. “Why? Why now? Jon Arryn had been Hand for fourteen years. What was he doing that they had to kill him?” “Asking questions,” Varys said, slipping out the door.

So far I have reread ASOIAF as a whole a couple of times, however, despite knowing this book series for ten years now I still don't know the point of Vary misdirecting Ned from who the true killer is. Do perhaps any of you know, dear readers? Please share your thoughts.

Next chapter the King of Incels; Tyrion

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen 4

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, coercion, manipulation, hand job, loss of virginity

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Sorry it took so long to get this out. Hopefully I can work on part 5 now that I have this posted.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 4:  With its gallery gods and its garbage-bag trees

💀💀💀

Sam left you in the same daze that fogged the entire day. The night was restless as you tossed and turned, replaying the scene over and over. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw the lens staring back at you, imagined yourself on a screen, your hand moving between your legs, your pathetic mewls as you came for this man and who knew how many others. 

Well, he did say it was up to you how big the audience was.

You woke early and only checked in with your nan to fill a mug with coffee and start your day ahead of time. You needed to keep yourself busy after a night bombarded by your own thoughts and yet, you couldn’t focus enough to do more than stare at the blinking cursor.

You put on a Twitch stream to keep your mind from wandering too far but it did little to help your focus. You fidgeted, still without your phone, and again thought of the previous day and what you’d done. You’d never done that in front of anyone. You only ever joked about it online, that persona was everything you weren’t irl.

All your stupid online jokes and exaggerations got you into this. You fucked up because the line between virtual and reality was too blurred in your head. You got carried away and now you just had to deal. Well, you guessed it was a lesson no one learned the easy way.

You didn’t realise how much time passed until your stomach growled loudly and squeezed. You felt like throwing up but only had the slice of toast you scarfed down that morning to coat your stomach. You rubbed your eyes and headed downstairs to sneak some of your nan’s sugarless jelly cookies. She hated your snacking but she rarely finished a box on her own.

As you entered through the kitchen, you came to a sudden halt. You tilted your head and frowned as you heard your nan’s voice and the one that answered had you knocking your hip against a chair as you rushed into the living room.

“Just over there,” she directed as the leg of the couch scraped on the floor, “slide it against the wall.”

Sam stood straight dusted off his hands on his jeans. He stepped back and looked over the old floral sofa. 

“Definitely looks better over here,” he remarked.

“What the hell?” you blurted out.

“There you are!” your grandmother tutted, “I called up to you but you do what you always do and tune me out.”

“I didn’t-- I was working, I--” you cleared your throat and looked at Sam, “what are you doing here?”

“He’s being very helpful,” your nan praised, “how many times did I ask you to help me with this thing?”

“Sorry, I…” you swallowed and glanced between them.

“And smell that,” your nan inhaled deeply, “he’s making us dinner.”

“And I brought sugar-free dessert,” he added, “anything else I can do?”

“You’re so sweet,” she squeezed his thick arm.

“So are you… once you get past the frying pan,” he chuckled.

“I see a man in leather, I’m swinging,” she scowled, “you’re lucky you came bearing gifts.”

“Hey, look, we’re not all bad,” he smiled as she sat and he handed her the book from the small table that held the lamp and her ashtray, “I’m not like those guys who threatened your granddaughter.”

“And more honest than her,” she shook her head, “you didn’t tell me you were down at that bar. I warned you-- you really are lucky he was there.”

“Uh, sure, yeah,” you squinted at them, “didn’t you just tell me the other day I should grab any biker by--”

“I’m old, I say things,” she laughed but her eyes had a glimmer of ‘be quiet’.

“Would you like some more tea, Millie?” he asked as he took her empty mug and neared you, stopping in the broad archway that opened up into the living room.

“One more, if you don’t mind,” she smiled sweetly. She never smiled.

You hid a scowl and turned to follow Sam into the kitchen. He moved the kettle onto a burner and turned the knob. He stopped and opened the door of the stove and peeked inside as a blaze of savoury hot air blasted out at him. You felt it just before he let it snap shut and turned to lean on the counter, crossing one foot over the other.

“What are you doing?” you uttered.

“I told you I’d be back,” he shrugged.

“I didn’t think you’d--” you lowered your voice and glanced at the doorway, “what have you been telling her?”

“Everything she wants to hear,” he ran his fingertips along the precise line of hair of his goatee, “and nothing she shouldn’t… but that can change.”

“I did what you wanted. End of punishment,” you put your hands on your hips.

“End? Hmmm, I don’t think I said that,” his forehead wrinkled, “we’re far from finished… and come on, we both know you had as much fun as me.”

Your nostrils flared and you sucked in your cheeks. He was entirely too hard to figure out. He was that sort of man you hated and feared all at once. You just couldn’t predict him.

“I don’t… I don’t care what happens to me, just don’t hurt her,” you said quietly.

“Hurt her? Now why would I do that?” he taunted, “I mean, right now I have no reason to do anything like that.”

You squirmed and let out a breath, “please, alright?”

“Settle down, honey, you’ve been good… so far,” he said, “you just gotta keep it up.”

“Yeah,” you grumbled as the kettle began to shake and he turned his back to you, “any chance I can have my phone back?”

He chuckled as he searched the cupboard for the tea and plucked out a bag, “you’re funny… I like that but you gotta stop acting like everything’s a joke. It doesn’t hold up.”

💀

You found it hard not to wear a look of unamused confusion as Sam served dinner at the table and your grandmother sang his praises as he poured her wine she could actually drink. Just one glass but it was enough to loosen her up. You hadn’t eaten in the dining room since you were a kid, more used to eating at the counter, sitting on the wobbly stools or in front of the television.

Sam offered for you to clean up and do the dishes. Your nan was overjoyed at that, almost mocking. When you finished, you found them in the living room, some old Robert DeNiro movie on the television. You sat on the couch, as far from Sam as you as your grandmother yawned into her hand.

“Well,” she stubbed out her cigarette, “I should really be getting to bed. That wine is kicking in.”

“It’s early…” you argued weakly.

“You kids don’t get into too much trouble,” she warned as she stood with a groan and gripped her hip, “these ears still work.”

“Trouble? Me?” Sam kidded, “you don’t have to worry about me. I haven’t been a kid in a very long time.”

She smiled and nodded but for a moment she hesitated. She looked at you and pushed her tongue to her denture.

“Good night, girlie,” she said.

“Night, nan,” you forced out as normally as you could. 

You knew if she sensed your fear, she’d act out. She was always too brave for her own good and while you admired that, you didn’t need to get hurt because you were dumb as a brick.

She left slowly and you heard her television begin to crackle and the voices of the Law and Order actors were muffled behind her door. You hunched your shoulders and rubbed your hands together as you stared at Deniro’s wrinkled forehead and that characteristic squint. 

The lamp went out as Sam pulled the cord and the screen glowed in the dark. You felt the cushion dip as he shifted closer without subtlety. He slung his arm over your shoulder and you smelled his earthy cologne as he turned the TV up a few ticks. He pulled you to him as his hand came up to cradle your cheek.

“Shouldn’t we go… somewhere else?”

“She won’t hear us honey,” he cooed, “you just gotta be good. Be quiet.”

“Let’s go upstairs. Please,” you grabbed his hand as you pleaded.

“You keep arguing and I’ll make sure to wake her up,” he warned, “now,” he twisted so that he had your wrist in his grasp and forced it down to his lap, “put your hand down my pants.”

You gulped loudly and your hand trembled. You read enough fanfic to know what to do but your lack of actual experience had you nervous. Much like many things in your life. All talk, no skill.

You turned awkwardly on the cushion, your body uncomfortably contorted as his legs stayed pressed to yours. You struggled to unhook the button of his fly and the zipper was slow to descend. You felt the bulge as your hands moved against the denim and you hesitated as your fingers pressed to the elastic of his briefs.

“Mmm,” he purred as he hugged you closer, “that’s it, honey.”

Your eyes widened and you were happy the room was dark enough to hide your face. You pulled the elastic back with two fingers and shoved your other hand blindly beneath the fabric. You brushed against his hard dick and angled your hand so that you could grip him, his smooth length felt peculiar against your palm. Was he big? He felt big but didn’t have anyone to compare him to.

“Tighter,” he groaned at the friction as you moved your hand.

You squeezed and his hot breath grazed over your hair and he pushed his head back over the couch. He twitched as you kept a steady motion, trapped in the limbo of mortification and cluelessness. Were you doing it right? What were you even doing?

“Ah, honey, you’re so good,” he said as he rubbed the back of your neck, “goddamn.”

You said nothing as you focused on your hand. He snaked his arm under yours suddenly and pulled you over as he lifted his ass. Your hand was caught in his under as he laid you down beneath him. He reached down and fixed your grip on him as he held hovered atop you, his knees pressed into the cushion between your legs.

His arm crossed under yours as he poked along your jeans and shoved his hand beneath the denim and cotton. His palm was flush to your pelvis as he slid two fingers along your folds, held snug to you by the fabric. He swirled his fingertips over your bud and you gasped as your other hand gripped his arm in surprise.

“Honey, you’re wet already,” he whispered, “you sure you haven’t been waiting for this?”

You moaned as he pushed back along your entrance and dragged his fingers back, spreading your wetness over your clit. You quivered as you struggled to keep your own hand moving. He inhaled and groaned as played with you and pressed his lips to your cheek. He trailed up to your lips and kissed you, forcing his tongue inside as he shuddered.

He drew away with a sloppy noise and withdrew his hand from your pants. He sat up on his knees and pulled your legs to rest against his torso. He gripped the back of your jeans and yanked them down along with your panties. You smothered your cry as you were shocked by the force of it and the air of the room on your bare ass and legs.

He let your jeans dangle from one ankle as he bent over you again. Your leg fell over the edge of the couch as he held himself over you with a hand just above your head, fingers tight on the cushioned arm. He wiggled as he shimmied his jeans and briefs down with his other hand and you pressed on his chest.

“Wait, wait,” you hissed, “you… please, just… slow down… I never--”

“Shh, honey, you’re making too much noise,” he muttered, “it’s okay.”

“No, no, please, can’t we--” your voice caught as he lined his tips up along your cunt and rubbed it along your clit, “I’ll… I’ll use my mouth.”

“Later,” he whispered as his tip slipped down along your entrance, “honey, I need to feel you.”

“Pl--” your voice evaporated as the head of his dick stretched you.

You whimpered as he brought his arm down and nestled it under your head. He pushed further in and you gritted your teeth as you whined at the pressure of his intrusion. With each inch, the strain grew worse as a deep pain flooded your body. He shushed you as he forced past your resistance.

He covered your mouth as you cried out and barely kept your voice under control. He kept your head on his arm as his other hand cupped your lips and smothered out your agony. He forced himself in as deep as he could and your body tensed as your walls squeezed him. Your eyes rolled back as tears welled and spilled over the corners.

“Honey, it’s okay, we’ll go slow,” he coaxed, “just like that.”

He rocked his hips carefully but it still felt terrible. He pulled back and slid back in, each time it felt like he got even deeper than the last. His breath hitched and your own grew laboured as you huffed through your nostrils. 

He growled and sped up, just a little at a time, your cunt slickening his intrusion as his pelvis brushed against your clit and sent tendrils down your thighs. Even so, the pleasure was not enough to mute the pain.

“That’s it,” he uttered, “that’s it.”

He fucked you faster and the couch shook beneath you. His flesh slapped and the noise seemed to be monstrous, so much sure that you were sure your grandmother would come out and catch you. 

You grasped his wrist as you felt your climax rising. You squeezed and arched your foot as you were overcome and crashed down harshly as the pain tore through the ecstasy once more. He turned his hand and framed your chin as he kissed you again, swallowing your murmurs as he thrust into you over and over.

He lifted his head and dipped his thumb into your mouth as he held in his voice. He quaked and his motion stuttered but kept on. You felt his release, hot and wet, inside of you, a strange sensation that made you both sickened and aroused you.

He eased up and stilled at last. He brushed his nose against yours and chuckled under his breath as he wiggled his hips and you swore at the way it made your walls squeeze him. You blinked as your vision cleared of tears and the darkness. His features were blue with the light of the television, sinister and shadowy.

You went limp under him and breathed out slowly. You shook as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip and left a line of spit down your jaw.

“We’ll have to get that on tape next time,” he said, “but I doubt you’ll forget that, honey.”

[pocketfulofrogers]

To Outlive the Devil

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Summary: A good save and a case practically solved leads to intelligence almost losing one of their own. Can you get out before it’s too late?

Notes: Canon violence, nothing worse than a typically dark episode. This is a past and present cut together story and it’s just shy of 4k. 

Now

Your bleary eyes open up to a cold and damp bedroom. An abandoned… apartment? The peeling wallpaper had given way to yellow stained drywall. From the small window on your left, it appeared as if you were several stories in the air, but there were no distinguishable landmarks that told you if you were even still in Chicago.

As you begin to come to your senses more, you feel the thick rope tied around your wrists and ankles. The rough material burns against you skin and you notice you already have sores.

How long have I been here?

Your memory is fuzzy and your head throbbed violently. It isn’t until you shift uncomfortably that you realize it’s a heavy metal chair you’re tied to.

Slowly your body begins to pick up on the danger your muddled brain had managed to identify and your pulse begins to quicken. As much as you try, your heartbeat continues to pound in your head as you try to twist your arms free.

The pain that responds is only a small price to pay for even the chance of freedom. Desperately, you continue to twist and pull until one of the knots manages to loosen up enough for you to squeeze your hand out. It’s just a short sprint to the front door in front of you.

You will your frozen fingers to work faster as you pinch and tear at each knot and then internally scream at your stiff muscles to carry you forward just a little bit more.

When your hand reaches the doorknob and it isn’t locked, relief floods your system. But when you’re able to wrench the door open, the person behind the door barely registers in your mind before everything goes black once again.

Then

Jay leans against his fist on his desk and tries to keep his frustration at bay. They’d been at this for two days straight and had been on the case for the last three months. “That’s two bodies in as many weeks. Is no one else starting to think…”

“That maybe hunting Chicago’s very own Criminal Minds level serial killer couple is out of our depth?” You interrupt, tilting your head towards him. “Doubt it.”

In fact, over the last two weeks, it’s the only thing you could think about. A younger woman named Madison roped, at least you were hoping she wasn’t a willing participant, into a horrific and violent life by a man you had yet to learn the identity of. You’d spent many nights pacing your bedroom, ranting and theorizing to Jay when all he wanted was just a bit of sleep.

The further you dove into it, however, the less hopeful you became for a quick arrest.

Voight had about ripped your head off when you suggested passing the case to the FBI and got to hear the ‘this is our city’ speech once again. But the truth was you were running out of ideas, running out of leads to chase down the rabbit hole, and running out of time.

“I hate to say it, but Voight’s right.” Antonio almost looks pained, but he continues on before you can question him. “The first time these two surfaced five years ago, CPD went full force. They shut it all down, had every uniform pulling overtime, and tried to smoke them out. Instead, it scared them into hiding.”

“Five girls in three months, Dawson, they’re escalating.” You take a breath before looking him in the eyes. “I can’t keep notifying parents.” There’s a certain pang in your voice only those who have had to watch a parent’s life crumble around them can hear. Jay reaches out to squeeze your forearm for just a bit of comfort and you run your fingers over his.

It’s enough.

“Then we end this.” Voight’s eyeing you, sympathetic to where you’re coming from, but not willing to give up yet. “Let’s find these monsters and make them pay.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you nod and turn to Adam. “Ok, let’s go over everything together, see if we can find something we missed.”

“Since it’s all we have, let’s revisit the address on Madison’s unemployment file.” Jay suggests.

Adam looks confused. “The house was condemned last year, torn down in the spring.”

“I know, but what about the name on the house, did anyone look into it?”

“Figured it was a stolen identity.” Kevin pipes up. “Clara Knight, died in 2012 of a heart attack at 66. No other properties in her name.”

“Knight?” Mouse perks up and starts shifting through his files. “I found a few erased emails from a Robert Knight, but I couldn’t find any relation or connection.”

Adam is already typing ferociously. “Got a death certificate for a Robert Knight, 68, died a few months ago. Seems like the guy barely existed.”

“Any children?”

“A daughter.” His face is grim. “Murdered in 99, she was 16.”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle. “Pull up a picture of her.” You don’t need to see it to confirm what you already feared, but still the image of her face churns your stomach. A beautiful blonde girl with the hope of the whole world in her smile. “He’s been at this a lot longer than anyone thought.”

“Any property still in his name?” Voight asks.

Anxiety rippling through your chest, it feels like an eternity before Mouse nods. “His nephew Isaac put his house in Roseland on a tax form.”

Now

When you come to, the first thing you notice is that your restraints have been changed to zip ties and for a moment you’re concerned about your circulation. You’re worry is cut short by the cup of water on a table to your right, the plastic straw close enough for you to reach it.

The sudden realization of the searing pain in your throat and the cracked skin on your lips lets you know it’s probably been about two days. It’s the dryness of your tongue that overrides every single rational thought of concern that maybe the glass beside you isn’t safe to drink. But, fifteen minutes pass with no incident so whoever it is probably wants to keep you alive.

The thought sends ice down your back.

Alive for what?

“What do you want from me?” You scream into the empty apartment.

Then

“We need a vacation after this.” Jay declares as he leans the seat of the car back a little. “Somewhere warm with water so I can look at you in a tiny bathing suit all day.”

You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t miss the small smile you give before bringing the binoculars up again. “We’ll see what we can do about that.”

“Hey lovebirds.” Adam calls over the radio from the car down the street from yours. “Have you seen anything yet or are you too busy staring into each other’s eyes again?”

It’s Jay’s turn to roll his eyes. “Didn’t you just take your third piss break?”

“Hydration is very important.” He defends.

“I told him to wear the diapers.” Alvin adds. Adam tries to defend himself, but you can barely hear him over Kevin’s laughter next to him.

Just then, out of the corner of your eye, you see the movement of a curtain, the flash of blonde hair, and the air shifts. Jay immediately catches the tense set of your shoulders and starts asking questions.

“They’ve got a girl up there.” You tell him through gritted teeth.

“Are you sure? I didn’t see anything.”

You nod and get out of the car despite the hushed protests from Jay as he follows you. To do what? You weren’t sure yet but you had felt so powerless these last few months that maybe you weren’t being the most rational right now.

The curtain moves again and, rather than getting caught, you quickly spin around and push Jay against the car before crashing your lips to his. Other than a noise of shock sounding from the back of his throat, he doesn’t miss a beat.

“North corner window.” You mumble against his lips and slide your hands up his chest, tilting your head to the side to give him a better angle.

When he pulls away, he brings his phone up and looks you in the eye. “We’ve got confirmation on the nephew Isaac, but he’s got another girl up there. If we bust in, he might get spooked and hurt her.”

It’s quiet longer than either of you would like.

“What should we do, boss?” Adam asks for you.

“Do you think you can get in quietly?” Voight asks.

Jay waits for your nod. “We’re on it. Going silent.”

Picking the lock was nothing. Sneaking around a house you know nothing about except for a quick glance at a blueprint from 2005 was the difficult part. Jay splits the two of you up, sending you upstairs while he clears the lower level. Circumstance didn’t allow you the option to argue with him that splitting up in a situation like this is the worst thing to do.

He was your partner and it was your job to always have his back, as difficult as he makes it, but he’s rounded a corner into the living room before you get the chance to cuff him to you.

Your breath catches in your throat when a step on the stairs creak, but you keep moving until you find a girl in the second room you clear. She’s blind folded with on leg tied to the bed. She tenses when you approach, but relaxes once you’ve gotten close enough to whisper who you are.

“Tracey.” She says he name with a whimper and your heart breaks as you cut the rope and take off her blindfold.

When she sees you’re really who you say you are, she throws herself into your arms and begins to cry. There’s nothing more you want to do than to sit here and comfort her, but your ears picks up on a man’s voice you don’t recognize.

“Ok, Tracey, I know you’re so scared, and I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I need you to be brave a little longer.” You pull back and look her in the eyes. “My partner and I came in here alone. I need you to tell me where the man and woman who took you are.”

She nods. “I don’t know where she went, she left a while ago. He’s here, downstairs I think, in his office.”

There’s a crash downstairs, the sound of broken glass and your blood runs cold. Immediately, you look for any other way out, but there’s nothing. No balcony, no window, nothing. Voight’s on the radio already, but you silence him.

“Stay directly behind me.” There’s a kind of urgency in your voice that puts her even more on edge.

Creeping down the stairs, you can hear Jay struggling in the kitchen, but it sounds like he’s holding his own.

“Bringing the girl out.” You whisper into your radio and glance back at Tracey. “As soon as we get down, I want you to run to the door. Do not stop. When you get across the street there are people who will help you.” She nods but she looks terrified. “I swear I won’t let him get anywhere near you.”

It’s the door opening that alerts Isaac that something else is going on. You round the corner with your gun drawn and the scene before you makes your knees weak.

Jay is bruised and cut up, struggling against the man behind him, the arm around his neck, the gun pointed at his head.

“She said you were cops, but I told her she was paranoid.” Isaac snarls.

“Madison? Is she here?” You ask, your voice as level as your gun trained on his head. Voight is yelling over the radio, but you tune him out. “I’d love to meet her.”

He snickers and smiles wickedly. “Even if she could be caught, neither of you will be alive long enough to see it.”

He only manages a twitch before you pull the trigger and land a shot right between his eyes.

Jay falls forward, breathing heavy and you rush towards him. “Jay’s hurt!” You call out when the door is broken down. Adam kicks the gun away from the obviously dead suspect and you let them handle the scene.

“Where does it hurt? Did you get hit? I told you it was stupid to split us up! How’s your breathing?” Your hands are frantically searching every inch of his body. He has to grab your hand and grip it tight in his to stop the assault of questions rapid firing from your lips.

He sits up with a groan and kisses your knuckles when he sees the panic on your face. “I’m okay. Because of you it’s just a few cuts and bruises.” He manages a smile and you almost cry right there.

Voight places a hand on your shoulder. “Tracey is on her way to Med. Medics said she’s going to be okay. We’ve got another bus on the way for you. Nice work you two.”

Now

The creak from the front door opening pulls you from a daze and you wince at the sunlight flooding the room. A blonde woman stands before you with a duffle in her left hand and a gun in her right.

She tilts her head to the side. “You’re still alive. What a shame.”

You struggle to focus your eyes from the concussion you’re assuming she must’ve given you. “Maddison.” You croak out. “What are you doing?”

She drops the duffle next to you and grips your hair to pull your head back, pushing the barrel of the gun into your temple.

“I’m going to make you suffer.” She hisses and roughly lets you go. “I tried to warn him that you were watching us, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Isaac?”

“Don’t say his name!” She screams and the sound cracks through your skull. “He told me to get some supplies, but when I cam back, I watched from the back window as you murdered him.”

You shake your head and try to reason with her. “Maddison, he was hurting people. He was going to kill my partner.”

“Partner.” She repeats sarcastically. “You mean Jay Halstead, your boyfriend of 3 years?” Maddison moves in front of you to revel in the fear that has filled your eyes and smiles sinisterly. “Yeah, I know who he is.”

You start quickly, the panic in your voice betraying the training you were struggling to hold onto. “If you want to kill me fine, do it. But don’t hurt him, Maddison. Please, he’s done nothing.”

She tsks as she opens the duffle and begins to pull out long metal pieces until finally, a long-barreled shot gun. “Why would I kill you when the alternative is so much better?”

You begin to struggle against the restraints as your mind starts to put together scenario after scenario of awful images. Maddison pays no mind to you begging and pleading to see reason. Instead, she pauses from building some contraption to walk over to you and jam a needle in your neck.

When you come too again, she’s sat casually in front of you. “I thought hitting you in the head again might actually kill you, and that’s not what I’m going for, so… you’re welcome.”

You glance around again and notice the barrel of the shotgun behind you just to the left of your shoulder. “Yeah, thanks.” You deadpan looking back at her. “What’s with the ‘Saw’ set up?”

She raises a brow. “Hold onto that strength while you can.” She points out the wires and hooks running along the floor and ceiling to trace it back to the door in front of you. “I used to be a STEM major. Did you know that?” She doesn’t stop long enough for you to respond. “Turns out I still remember a few things.”

You stare past her towards the door and then look quickly back to the gun, beginning to piece together her plan.

“Yes.” She coos. “It’s exactly what you’re thinking. The first person that opens that door, if he happens to be the right height, will get a life ending shot to the face. And I’d like to ask you what the chances are that anyone other than your boyfriend will be the first through the door.”

None.

For the first time you feel utterly defeated, hopeless. Madison watches closely, soaking in every moment of your anguish.

“Now you’ll know what it feels like.”

Then

You phone buzzes for the fourth time in the last hour. “Yes?”

“He’s actually insufferable, where are you?” Will speaks quickly, his tone seeping in irritation.

You laugh. “April already sent me out to get him food because he was whining so much. I am in route with a burger and some other stuff from his favorite place. Should be there in 15.”

“Thank god.” He says quietly. “Would you give it a rest? She’s 15 out with enough food to hopefully put you in a coma so I don’t have to.” You laugh as Will continues to yell at his brother.

“I almost died! Where’s your compassion?” You hear Jay yell back and only laugh harder

“You have ONE bruised rib and a concussion. I’ve seen high school football players handle worse with less complaining!”

“If it’s not so bad, why won’t you let me leave?!”

“I’m stepping up the pace, be there soon.” You laugh and hang up.

The Chicago night was chilly, but something else causes the hairs on the back of your neck begin to prickle. You don’t stop walking, don’t even pause a single step. Instead, you glance in a shop window and catch the reflection of a woman, a flash of blonde, not too far behind you.

Casually, you switch the bag of food to your other hand, but before you’re able to grab your gun, there’s a pinch in your neck and everything goes black.

Now

Jay had forced his way back to work sooner than anyone recommended. You’d been missing for 5 days. Disappeared with no trace other than your cell phone and a bag of cold diner food spilt on the sidewalk. If it were up to him, he would’ve been at his desk the moment 30 minutes hit and you weren’t there.

Alvin called two hours later telling him what they found and Adam and Antonio had to physically restrain him, Will almost sedated him. Voight promised him that they’d find you, and Jay knew they’d do everything they could, but he needed to be a part of the search.

“Did she have any enemies?” Alvin asks and he doesn’t flinch when Jay begins to laugh sarcastically.

“Any enemies? Do you hear yourself? She had tons. We all do. But let’s stop pretending like her being taken the day we closed that case isn’t connected.”

Alvin tries to sympathize with him. “We have to ask. You know the drill.”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “Are you seriously going to treat this like any other missing person? It’s Y/N, Al! Y/N!”

“We know.” Voight says from his office door. “I made a few calls, Jay, we know where she is.” For a fraction of a second, Jay is frozen, but the thought of what you could be going through right now moves him. He’s grabbed his jacket and is in the car before anyone else has moved.

“I thought only the CIA had access to things like that.” Adam whispers lowly in the car into Kevin’s ear.

He shrugs. “Do think it’s out of the question that he’d break several constitutional laws to save any one of us?”

Adam sits back in his seat with pursed lips, nodding.

You struggle against the restraints long after Madison leaves you with only a gag in your mouth. The multiple cars pulling up and all the people shouting told you that you were running out of time. As of this very moment, you were locked into your fate of watching the man you loved die.

This was not an option.

The hard plastic digs into your ankles and wrists, your movements quickening with each door you hear them break down. You try to scream, to warn whoever was on this floor that there was a danger they couldn’t possibly see, but your muffled cries wouldn’t carry.

Tears soak the bandana shoved in in your mouth and you try to scream again.

No! Stop! It isn’t safe!

You hear Voight’s voice a few doors down and begin to try and rock the chair back and forth. It was considered heavy for a good day, and today was not that. Having not eaten or really moved in so long had left you weak and foggy. The adrenaline coursing through you veins only aiding a little in your efforts.

The sound of the front door breaking down sends a jolt of energy through you and you send yourself flying in front of the gun just as the bedroom door opens.

Jay raises his weapon at the sound before his brain can register what has happened. His wide eyes find yours just before you’ve hit the ground.

“Y/N!” He screams and rushes towards you. Frantic, shaky hands move quickly to remove the bandana and zip ties before applying pressure to your shoulder. “I need a medic!” He calls franticly over his shoulder, but when he turns back to you, he has to shut down the thought that you might not make it that long.

“You found me.” You try to say, but instead sputter blood onto your cheek.

“Oh, God.” He gasps. “You’re okay, you’re going to be fine.” But the more he says, the less you hear him.

“I love you.” You try to reach out to his face and graze his cheek, but your fingers won’t cooperate and only leave smudges of blood across his skin.

When your breathing starts to quicken and become more raged, he knows time is running out. So, in defiance of the orders and suggestions coming in through his ear piece, he lifts you up to cradle you to him and runs.

**

An annoying, incessant beeping is the only thing you can hear, but when you move to reach for it, a shooting pain stops you cold. You groan softly and pry your eyes open only to see both Will and Antonio hovering too close to your face.

Will starts to wave a flashlight in your eyes and you push him away. “When was the last time you guys brushed your teeth?”

Antonio chuckles softly and places his hand atop your head, his thumb brushing softly. “We got her.” He says quietly. “She couldn’t help herself. She stayed close to the scene to see the fallout and Kim caught her.”

Will nods his head towards Jay who was sleeping soundly in what you had to imagine was a very uncomfortable position. “We’ve been keeping an eye on him as well as you. Do you want me to wake him?”

You look back over at him and smile before turning back. “Better not. These are the last few moments of peace I’ll get for the next year at least. You would think someone would be a little more grateful towards you for saving their life, but I can already hear how mad he’s going to be.” Only a small part of you is joking.

“Well, I’ll get shot next time and we’ll see how you feel.” Jay’s sleep riddled voice carries from the corner, but he hasn’t opened his eyes yet. “I’ll give you an hour.” He adds before settling back in.

Now that’s the love of my life.

[captain-jensen]

Let’s Enjoy Tonight

Chris Evans x Reader

Request: Can I request a Chris Evans imagine where he is in love with Robert Downey Jr's daughter and is at a party at Robert's and talks to her on the balcony about her family and about her dad and eventually reveals how he feels??? Thanks 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💗

Warnings: Age gap 

Authors note: This takes place a couple of years ago to fit the scenario. I know it’s short but I’m a sucker for happy cliffhanger endings. 

       Tonight is a big deal. Your father was throwing a huge wrap party for the cast and crew of the last Avengers movie. You aren’t nervous in the slightest though, even given the scale of the party. For the last few months of filming you’ve been hanging out with your dad on set so you’ve gotten to know the rest of the cast really well. Not that you didn’t know them before hand, you’ve known them for years. This year was different though, you’re 22 this time around which means you have been hanging out with the Avengers like an adult, often getting invited to their karaoke nights. So to say you were excited for tonight would be an understatement. Excited in particular to see one original Avenger. Over the past few months you and Chris have become particularly close. It started with you guys pairing up for karaoke, then you guys starting eating lunch together on set, and when it came to the parties he or one of the other cast members threw you guys always stuck close together. You guys have become VERY close friends. Too close as some (like your dad) would say. Whenever you guys were in the same room you were always giggling together, making excuses to be as close as possible, whispering to each other, and often can be caught staring at one another across the room. Neither of you have made a move yet though, given a couple of obstacles. Obstacle number 1; Age, Chris is 37 years old, that’s 15 years older than you. Which doesn’t bother YOU but it does bring up the topic of obstacle number 2; Your dad. Your father is none other than the godfather of Marvel himself Robert Downey Jr. Now your dad is chill and understanding sure, but its hard to predict how he would react to the possible relationship between his daughter and one of his very close friends. Your dad however, was not a stupid man. He can see that there’s something between you and Chris, but he might be choosing to ignore it until it gets out of hand. You’re hoping that tonight is the night things get out of hand.

There is only about an hour left before people start to show up to your dads rented condo. You’re wearing a simple red dress that hugs your figure just right. Hopefully Chris will love it. “Y/N sweetie are you almost ready?” you hear your fathers voice outside the door.

“I’m done, come in dad” You see the door creak open slowly and then your dads head pops out from behind it.

“Sweetheart you look beautiful. A little intense though for the wrap party isn’t it? I mean that’s a lot of shoulder, are you trying to impress someone?” He asks only half joking.

“Oh my god dad, I’m just trying to fit in with the Hollywood crew” you retort. Putting to use the wit your father passed down.

“Well I’m relieved to hear that” He said. Even though he fully knew what your plan was, he was happy to not hear it come out of your mouth. “Well people are going to be showing up soon so lets go eat” and with that he walks out of your room to go snack on some hors d’oeuvres. 

 A knock at the door of the condo startles you and you jump up to accompany your dad at the door, welcoming the first guest of the evening. To your dismay however, it was just Gwyneth and her husband. After about an hour and several guest arrivals later, you finally hear his upbeat and loud voice through the music. You look towards the door and see Chris hugging your dad at the door. You coolly make your way to the door while trying to keep your excitement in your chest. As soon as your in Chris’ eyeline he can’t take his eyes off of you (your dad recognizes this). As you approach your father and who you hope will become your daddy, you put on your prize winning smile and pull Chris in for a hug. “I’m glad you came tonight” you say softly into his ear. 

“You know I would never miss a good party” he responds, pulling away from the hug after feeling a pair of suspecting eyes on him. Chris could never let it be known by anyone how much he liked you. He couldn’t do that to his friend. He also couldn’t help it. You were magnetic. Whenever you were around, Chris felt like the happiest guy around. He could never take his smile off of his face, and the same applied to you. After you guys separate your dads attention gets pulled elsewhere. “You look...really amazing Y/N” Chris says quietly to you. 

“Thanks, you do too Chris” you shoot him a wink and a sly smile. “Lets go get a drink” You say, already ushering him to the makeshift bar where a very skilled mixologist was slinging drinks left and right. You both order a drink and decide to sit at the bar. “So how does it feel knowing you aren’t Captain America anymore?” you ask. 

“Honestly? It’s bittersweet. I mean I’m grateful for it but I’m also excited to be able to explore different characters and stories and such” he responds. 

“That’s good. Do you have any projects coming up?” 

“Yeah I just signed a contract with Apple to do this limited series adaption of a book called ‘Defending Jacob’ I get to play a father in it.” he responds excitedly. 

“Chris no way! That’s awesome. I’m so happy for you!” you respond with just as much enthusiasm. 

“Thank you. That’s sweet of you to say” he replies with a soft smile on his face. You’re about to respond but you get interrupted by a hand landing on your shoulder, causing you to turn around. 

“There you are, I just got here and wanted to come say hi.” You see a wide grin on Mark Ruffalo’s face. He greets you and Chris, making small talk until he sees Hemsworth and takes his leave. 

“Do you wanna go outside?” Chris asks with a raised eyebrow, obviously nervous but eager to be alone with you while you look the way you do. 

“Yeah sure. It is a little loud in here” He leads you through the crowd by a strategically placed hand on your waist. Your heart hammers in your chest and you’re sure he can hear it even over the blasting music. You make it outside and there’s a couple small groups of people already on the balcony, but there’s enough space for you two to talk without any interruption. 

“So are you going back with your dad to California?” Chris asks once you get situated on one of the couches, knees just touching his. 

“I’m really not sure yet. It’s nice living rent free and hanging out with him, but I don’t know if I want to live in Cali, I really like the east coast” you respond. 

“Oh like Massachusetts?” he asks in a cheeky voice. 

“Well I was thinking more along the lines of New York.” You respond, not knowing that he held real hope in his heart that you wanted to move to Boston with him on a whim. He knew that wouldn’t happen though. There was no way someone your age would want to be with a man his age. He also knew your father would not approve. 

“Ah right. That makes sense”

“I’ve always wanted to see Boston though. I’ve never been to Massachusetts” you say. 

“Oh really? You know, I’m a pretty good tour guide if you’re ever interested” 

“Well I’ll definitely consider that” You fall into a deep silence. The other groups of people had made their way back inside some time ago, leaving you two completely alone for the first time ever. You notice a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead and know that he’s obviously anxious about something. “Are you alright Chris? You seem spooked” You decide to ask, seeing if he wanted to confide in you. 

“When you asked me earlier about how I felt not being Captain America anymore it made me realize the fact that I’m not gonna be working with any of those people inside. Not Scarlett, Mark, Chris, or your dad. It just kind of hit me”

“Oh Chris I’m sorry. But you’re still all friends, it’s not like you’ll never see each other again. That’s good. From what I’ve heard, castmates aren’t normally as lucky as you guys are when it comes to your bond” you respond, trying to comfort him. 

“Yeah you’re right. I’ve met some of the most amazing people during this time of my life.” He says. “If it wasn’t for Captain America, I wouldn’t have met your dad, therefore I would have never met you. So I’m still grateful.” He looks you deep in your eyes as he says this. He takes you in fully, like he’s trying to memorize your face. 

“I’m grateful too” You say. Looking at him just as deeply. 

“Y/N, I need to get something off my chest. Because I may see Rob again after this, but I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”

“What is it Chris?” You ask with baited breath. 

“These past few months that we’ve been spending time together, have been the best moments of my life. I’ve never felt more light and happy with someone. You’re beautiful, intelligent, caring, funny, and so open and in love with life. When I’m with you, I feel like a better person. I know you probably don’t feel the same way, and your dad wouldn’t approve. I just needed you to know” He says softly. He looks up from his lap to check your reaction. Where he’s expecting confusion and maybe even discomfort, he instead finds a warm smile and slightly glossy eyes. 

“Chris, I feel the same way. I like you too.”

“So you aren’t uncomfortable with the age thing? What about your dad? Does he know you like me?” He asks in bewilderment at the fact that his feelings are actually reciprocated. 

“It doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you. As for my dad, there might be a period of adjustment, but he’ll get over it. He probably suspects already.”

“Y/N. Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Yeah of course” 

“Can I... kiss you?” He asks, slowly leaning forward until he’s just centimetres away from you. Without another word, you close the distance, letting your actions speak for you. The kiss is tender but full of longing and ambition. He tilts his head to the side and deepens the kiss, letting his tongue swipe past yours languidly. Feeling out of breath, you break the kiss, even though it nearly kills you to do so. “I needed that” He says sort of sheepishly. 

“Me too” You look around quickly to check if there was any witnesses. But you were still alone. So you latch your mouth back onto Chris’ in a much hungrier and desperate kiss. He breaks away quickly though, not wanting anything to get too heated. 

“We should talk to your dad before anything else... escalates” He says, it’s then that you notice his slacks clung a bit tighter to his legs. 

“Or I can pretend to go to bed but actually go with you to your hotel” You suggest, trying to devise a way to avoid the conversation with your dad. “Then we can just tell him tomorrow” 

“Lying is not the best way to do this” He says with a small giggle. “I want to, but I want to make sure Rob won’t put a hit on me if he finds out I helped his daughter lie to him in order to sleep with me” He argues slowly while he lazily tries to fight off your advances. 

“Alright, that’s probably smart” You give in and stop trying to kiss him. “So how are we going to do this? Tell him tonight? Or maybe tomorrow at brunch?” You eagerly ask, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible so the two of you can enjoy each other in peace. 

“I say we enjoy tonight, plan exactly what we want to say, and do it tomorrow. Then we can spend the next couple of days together in peace” He makes another good point. 

“Ok. We should probably get back to the party then. We’ve been out here for a while. People will notice”

“Yeah we should” With that he looks over his shoulder and once he realizes the coast is clear he gives you one last deep kiss that literally takes your breath away. You both clear your throats and stand up. He walks with a more scandalously placed hand on your hip and shoots you a wink and that famous flirty smirk. You walk through the doors and back into the condo. For the rest of the night, even though you try to hide it, you’re both gleaming at each other and constantly sharing small touches. Robert, not being as oblivious as you both thought, tries to think of a nice brunch spot for the inevitable conversation tomorrow. Even though he could confront you both right now, he just stands by. Watching you enjoy your night next to the best man he could wish for for his daughter with a smile on his face as well. 

                                                   The end

[anobscurename]

ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART VIII — masterlist

concept: for your birthday, chris takes you to a burlesque club, where you reunite with anthony and sebastian. the first kiss. the slowest of slow burns. part nine of many.

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 5.2k

warnings: strip tease, kissing, aNgSt

author's note: nothing i can say will prepare you for the rollercoaster you are about to endure. i hate myself for doing this to you. ya girl really popped tf off on this one.

Looking at Christopher Robert Evans, you wouldn't expect him to be someone who happened to frequent burlesque clubs.

You also wouldn't expect him to have so many tattoos, but that's what a good long sleeve jacket was for.

It would be dangerous for anyone to assume anything about Christopher Robert Evans. And yet, assumptions were made... Just like how you had assumed he would forget your birthday.

It wasn't an unfair assumption, by any means. You had only been living together for about six months, of which he was only there for a few days at a time, before jetting back out to whatever location his film shoot was at.

You were close, but at the same time, not close at all.

It was hard to think of where you stood – neither one of you could really answer that question, and should anyone corner you both separately, you'd both resignedly sigh and claim "just friends."

That was why his gift surprised you on two different levels:

One, he had remembered your birthday. Perfectly friendly enough.

Two, he had gifted you something not quite friendly in the slightest... And that was where waters got murky. But you'd be fucked if you didn't admit just how willing you were to wade into those waters – murky or not.

The box had been delivered to the house late in the morning. Chris had been gone for just over a month this time – 46 days, you were unashamedly keeping count – and his absence didn't go by unnoticed.

Everything reminded you of him, even if he didn't spend a lot of time there.

The box had been from La Perla, and just the name – gold embossed on cream – elicited a visceral reaction of excitement.

You signed for it – a little too eagerly, given the delivery boy's eyebrow raise – before dashing inside to open it.

And now, there it sat, on your bed, silk ribbon still intact.

You weren't unfamiliar with the forever coveted – and forever out of your price range – Italian lingerie brand. But knowing it was from Chris... Your fingers inched towards the ribbon.

Your phone rang, rescuing you from letting your imagination run too wild. Checking the caller I.D., you faltered. It was him.

"Hello?"

"{Your name}! Hey." If you shut your eyes, you could see his smile. "Did you get the gift?"

"Yeah," you responded, a bit more breathless than you would've liked. "Looking at it right now, actually."

"And? What do you think?"

You hadn't the heart to tell him you hadn't opened it yet. "It's..."

You heard a familiar voice in the background. Two of them, actually. "Who's that?" "Is that {your name}? Hey, yo, {your name}! Happy birthday!"

"Guys, cut it out!" Chris laughed, the reciever crackling a little. You could only imagine what was transpiring on the other end: Chris trying to wrangle himself free from his friends all clamouring to get a word in over the phone he was holding just out of reach.

You giggled. "Is that Mackie?"

"Yeah, and Seb. I'm on set with them right now. Decided to drop by, say hi to everyone. Try and convince those two delinquents to come out tonight, but after they heard where I was taking you, it wasn't much of a task. Just managed to sweet talk the producers into getting them the night off."

"It better be great tonight, Kevin really wasn't impressed!" You could hear Seb's muffled shouts from across the room, followed by a "quiet on set!" from a voice you didn't recognize.

Silence was instantaneous from the clamour you had almost gotten used to from the other end.

"Hold on," Chris' voice was hushed. "Gonna get out of their hair before they start filming again..."

You found yourself perching restlessly on the edge of your bed as you waited for Chris to return to the call. There was some shuffling on his end, quiet apologies whispered to passing strangers he was trying to skirt past.

When he got back, he was speaking normally again. "About the gift. It's a bit much, I know. Not exactly Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge! but I know how much you love that film, so I thought it'd be fun if tonight... Well, if tonight we visited something close to it."

"You're not taking me to France, are you?" Your heart was in your throat, hoping he'd say no. Not that you wouldn't love to go, it was just that you weren't ready to make a trip that big any time soon. The panic of packing would be all consuming, and that was the last thing you wanted to be doing on your birthday.

His laugh was infectious. "God, no. In this economy?"

"So, where are you taking me, then?" Your eyes had narrowed in suspicion.

"Think Moulin Rouge, but smaller and more local."

"Oh..." There was one name that came to mind – Vulpecula, the Latin word for "little fox". A burlesque club, every bit as elite as the club you used to be a waitress at.

"Oh," he agreed. Even over the phone you could see the smug smile on his face. He had recalled you mentioning how you'd always wanted to go there, but could never get in. The moment he heard that, about four months prior, he had excused himself from the conversation – having given you some perfectly justifiable explanation at the time, reasonable enough for you to not suspect anything different – and promptly booked a front seat table there for your birthday. "So, listen, I'll be home in... Let's see, they have an hour left here before they wrap, from Georgia to L.A., that's four, maybe five hours...? So let's say no more than seven hours? I should be home by dinner, have a quick shower, and be ready to meet Seb and Anthony at Vulpecula around nine for the reservation. Sound good?"

That was in... One glance at the clock on your bedside table confirmed it. Ten hours time by the looks of it.

Ten hours was more than enough time for you to pick something Vulpecula worthy and get ready. You hoped. "Sounds good."

"Alright, see you in a bit."

You said your goodbyes, the thrill of finally going to a burlesque club beginning to rise. Your thumb hovered over the "end call" button, about to press, when Chris interjected one last time.

"Oh, and {your name}? Happy birthday."

———————

True to his word, Chris was home for dinner. "Dinner" being two pizzas balancing precariously in one scopic hand – held aloft, well out of Dodger's eager jumping reach – and roses clutched firmly in the other.

"You're back."

His face lit up at your presence, tired eyes becoming wide awake once more. "Hey there, birthday girl."

You let him put down the pizza and flowers first before you sprinted into his arms. The scent that you could only reconcile with airplanes from his flight clung to him, but if you inhaled deeper, the smell that was so distinctly Chris was there too.

He chuckled, hugging you back every bit as enthusiastically, even going so far as to pick you up and spin you around, Dodger yapping excitedly at the situation.

"I missed you, you asshole."

"I missed you too," he sighed into your hair.

You pulled apart. "You have no idea how quiet it gets here when you're not around. I almost feel bad for the shampoo bottles, they haven't heard you sing in a month now and it's– What? What are you staring at?"

A stillness had overcome Chris as he held you at arm's length, hands resting just above your elbows. He was looking at you.

"Just you," he affirmed softly. There it was again, that smile. "You look gorgeous. Doesn't she look beautiful, bud?"

Dodger, suddenly bored of the interaction, dashed off to go retrieve some chew toy or another.

"Guess he doesn't think so," you shrugged, suddenly shy under that molten ocean gaze.

"Don't listen to him. He doesn't know what he's talking about."

———————

Vulpecula didn't disappoint. Your eyes were wide in awe, almost wishing they were wider so as to take in as much as you possibly could. You were right by the stage, all of you seated in plush, velvet chairs. You sat around a gold and black vintage marble-top table cluttered with empty bottles and half full drinks.

Anthony and Seb – after showering you with birthday wishes and small gifts now residing in your discarded coat pockets – were reclined in their seats, drinks in hand, talking low to one another. You had heard a snippet of their conversation in passing. They had been debating how long you and Chris would last in this will they, won't they charade.

The very thought of a will they had your eyes rolling. As if that would ever happen. You didn't need to remind yourself: friends. Just friends, nothing more.

Sultry music, moody lighting, and the hint of wine and expensive perfume mingled with French cigarette smoke all invaded your senses.

"They look amazing up there," you whispered in reverence, eyes never leaving the dancers.

Chris leaned in, shoulder brushing yours. The natural magnetic pull he had on you snapped you out of your wonderstruck state, and you tilted your head to hear him better. His breath was hot against your ear as he struggled to be heard over the music. "Not as amazing as you look right now."

You shrugged the compliment off. It wasn't lost on you, the reason he enjoyed these types of clubs. "Yeah, but I could never do what they're doing right now."

"I don't know," he cajoled. "I've seen you dance before. You've got moves."

He was referring to one particular evening where you had decided to settle your differences over The Impromptu Never Have I Ever Swim™ – namely, who was at fault – with a dance battle. But that was nothing.

You quirked an inquisitive brow. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"No suggestions here," he said, hands raised in submission. "I'm just saying you've got moves."

At your scoff, he leaned in again. You weren't entirely oblivious; the implication of his words were crystal clear: "And you could out dance anybody in this room."

"Is that a challenge, Evans?" The smirk came easy to your wine darkened lips as you brought the flute of champagne to them for a sip. You had been rather indulgent in your mixing of alcohols all night, and compliance was becoming incredibly enticing.

"You can't compete where you don't compare, and these girls don't even come close."

The dismissive wave he gave the stage had caught the attention of Anthony and Seb, and they were now listening and watching intensely, both trying to hide their amusement behind their tumblers of whiskey.

"You are challenging me," you gasped in mock disbelief.

"If anything, it's a request," Anthony had attempted to disguise his commentary behind the whiskey glass, but had failed. The whole table had heard, earning him a slap on the arm from Seb and an amused quirk of your lips. "What? I'm just saying what we're all thinking. We're all thinking it."

"I'm not about to be sweet-talked into making a fool of myself by the likes of you, Christopher," you teased, turning your attention back to Chris.

He smirked. "I dare you."

"You really don't think I'll go up there." It was more a statement than anything. He knew the need to prove him wrong would heavily outweigh your dignity, and you hated that he knew that.

He shrugged, noncommittal, but still smirking. "I have no inclination to what you will or won't do."

That was it. The thread he'd been pulling at all night had finally unravelled, and it was probably the alcohol that had dulled your better judgement, but it was your birthday, for fuck sakes, and you felt like doing something memorable and insane.

"Guard my drink."

And then you were up, making your way to the dimly lit steps leading up to the stage.

If you had been there with anyone else, you would've been escorted out immediately. But that was the thing about loyal patronage, fame, and money... You could get away with almost anything. Your status was immediately elevated just by being in their company.

Seb watched you, mouth agape, as you sashayed to the front and centre. "Holy shit, she's doing it."

Uproarious applause met your arrival as your steps pulled the attention of the audience, but you could hear and see Anthony whoop in support above them all.

"How the hell did you pull this one off, Evans?" Anthony asked as he sat back down to enjoy the show, face laminated in a permanent smile.

"What can I say? I know my girl," Chris winked.

Seb sighed, digging some cash from his pocket. "You win, I guess," he grumbled as he handed over the money to Chris.

"That's mine, thank you." Anthony plucked it from Seb's fingertips. "You too, blue eyes. Hand it over."

"But I won," Chris all but pouted, confusion creasing his brow.

"You said you could get her up there with them in ten," Anthony corrected. "I said you could do it in five if she had the right amount of Moët in her. And would you look at that..." – he plucked the near empty bottle in question from the table to display to his friends – "the perfect amount of Moët."

Chris yielded. He fished some stray bills from his pocket and paid his fee.

The entire exchange was lost on you, however, as the song changed. There was a hush over the club as the music faded, and suddenly, there was a spotlight on you. The other dancers stood back, watching you in delight.

And then the music began to play.

And you began to move.

You were mesmerizing, incredible in your command of the stage. The sway of your rolling hips, the placement of your hands, roving over your body suggestively, but not overtly sexual. That was the beauty of burlesque – it was to sell sex without outright giving it, and it was as if you'd danced there your whole life, the way it flowed so naturally through you.

"Would you look at her up there?" Anthony breathed, something akin to pride in his eyes. Your relationship with the Falcon actor was strange – something close to siblings. Although, if you were to think about it, no big brother would ever be as proud as he was to be watching his little sister dancing at a burlesque club. It had been less about the dance, though – and all about the joy he could see emanating from you.

You liked being the centre of attention for one night. And you very much were.

The interaction at the table was practically forgotten as your friends stared up at you in admiration.

And when your hands traced your curves, moving languidly to the zipper at the side of your dress, Chris' breath visibly stuttered. And when the dress was slipping off of you – straps slinking off the delicate slope of your shoulders to allow the pooling of the fabric at your feet – Chris leaned forward in his seat, entirely bewitched.

You were wearing it – the lingerie he had bought for you.

It was a pretty little number – light champagne coloured silk, trimmed in black lace. It fit you like a glove, hanging off your frame in a way that revealed enough to stir a desire to see more, but not enough to have you shying away in discomfort in front of all the onlookers. The neckline was low, and the skirt fell just above mid thigh.

And still you danced, motions slow to the music, toying with the skirt, the straps, your hair. For that single moment, you were seduction incarnate.

He couldn't look away. You were everything in his world, the only thing in it. You were his world.

When you made eye contact with him, out in the darkness at the edge of the stage, he could've sworn he'd forgotten how to breathe.

You sank to your knees, sensual, undulating, gathering your now discarded dress. The smirk you had – so often teasing – was beckoning, mirroring the intent in your eyes.

You slowly dragged your eyes over Chris, taking in the state of him. What you had rendered him. The hold you had over him was tangible – the awed set of his agape jaw, the way his eyes were glazed with such intensity and want. It stirred something in you, something in the pit of your belly.

You cast him a coy wink before you lazily tossed the dress to him as if you hadn't a care in the world.

Sebastian sucked a whistling breath through his teeth when the song ended. "Who was that girl?"

Chris shifted in his seat, trousers having grown immeasurably uncomfortable. He found himself dumbfounded. "I have absolutely no idea."

———————

The excitement of the stage was still coursing through you when you returned to the table.

Anthony, who had rightfully given you a well-deserved standing ovation, gave you a massive bear hug that lifted you off the ground and had you giggling. "Wow," was all he said. And then, louder: "Wow!"

Nearby patrons cheered in agreement, and you felt your cheeks flush. "Stop it," you rolled your eyes.

"No, he's right," Seb smirked. "Isn't that right, Chris?"

Seb had tilted his head to peer at Chris past you and Mackie, cocky at having caught Chris out.

Chris – having crossed his legs to conceal the effect you had on him – could barely even look at you. "Yeah," he cleared his throat; it didn't help chase the rasp from his voice. "It was quite something."

You exchanged a slightly annoyed look with Anthony. "I don't see what your problem is, I was only doing what you wanted."

You plopped down in your seat, immediately taking a sip from your champagne. Chris' eyes followed your action, attentative – even more so when you caught a drop at the corner of your lips with your deft tongue.

As if he wasn't already hard enough.

And then his undoing – you spotted your dress. It was still exactly where it had landed when you'd tossed it, splayed across his lap. Unthinkingly, you reached for it, your fingers grazing his crotch and–

His hand shot forward, intercepting you, seizing your wrist in an iron grip. He looked to almost be in pain. "Don't."

What happened next, you didn't blame the alcohol this time, or the thrill the stage had left you with, or anything else. This was all you.

The air had been thick with desire – that all consuming want – and there was a glassiness in his blown out pupils – a need – that had spurred you on.

You grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him to you. Tilting forward, you captured his lips in a hungry starving kiss. He stiffened, before melting, becoming putty in your hands, kissing you back with a passion that set your entire soul and body ablaze. It was sloppy, liquor heavy on both your lips. He moaned into you, hot tongue swiping against the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. Entrance which you granted, whimpering as he deepened the kiss.

You had clambered onto his lap in the frenzied urgency. The hiss of pleasure he gave at the slow grind of your hips against him was almost enough to make you come undone then and there.

Searing hands travelled your body, fingertips digging into soft flesh every time you rubbed against him just so. He traced your curves, encompassing all his hands could reach without ever crossing the line you so desperately wanted him to. He was a gentleman, first and foremost – although he kissed like he hoped to devour you.

Your own hands carded through his hair, tugging at the strands, eliciting throaty groans you never dreamed of hearing from him. His lips muffled every mewl of pleasure you emitted, and for that you were thankful, because once his hand came to rest around your throat, you knew you were done for.

"Fuck," he growled out against your lips.

You finally pulled apart, head swimming and breathless. "Let's get out of here."

He stared at you for the longest time. You, who looked so beautiful with your kiss swollen lips. You, who was sat in his lap, looking down at him, eyes telling innocence, but lips suggesting sin. You, who was finally his. "You must know what you're doing to me."

You stifled a moan as Chris tilted your head back, gently leaving a trail of featherlight kisses from your jaw to your collarbone. Your toes curled, and you knew that if someone were to ask you your name in that moment, you wouldn't be able to tell them. "And what's that?"

"Driving me fucking crazy."

———————

You were still in absolute disbelief, convinced you'd wake up and this would all be a dream.

But it wasn't a dream, and you were there, with him, and your lips still throbbed in the remembrance of that kiss...

"Hold on," you said. Chris reluctantly halted his steps, turning to look at you. "Just wait here, I need to go get my coat."

"Don't be long," he said, voice low and soft.

You gave him a goofy half smile, still kiss drunk. "No promises."

You dashed off to the coat check station, leaving Chris in the foyer.

Ten minutes, that was how long it took. That was the number you would put to the time it took for absolute devastation to occur.

It wasn't your fault there was a line at coat check. Just like it wasn't his fault he happened to run into a particularly gorgeous woman from his past in just those ten minutes.

"Chris Evans?"

He spun at the sound of his name ringing out in the empty foyer. The music of Vulpecula was still faintly going in the background, muffled by the gilded gold doors that granted entry.

"Hey! Long time no see," he grinned. "I haven't seen you since...? Wow, it must've been ages."

"Since we broke up, yeah," she nodded in slow agreement.

"How's," he snapped his fingers, hoping to jog his memory. "Don?"

"We broke up, actually. About a month ago."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that." He made his consolation known through a friendly pat on the shoulder, thumb rubbing circles on the skin revealed by her sleeveless dress.

And it was at that moment you returned, seeing him and the woman, too close to be entirely platonic. He wasn't guilty of anything, you knew that. But the hand on the shoulder...

He hadn't noticed you yet, so you were given ample time to dissect the unfolding situation.

It dawned on you exactly why it bothered you so much. The way he was touching her, it was how he had touched you. Not in Vulpecula, no, but every day leading up to it. And it could've meant one of two things:

The first was that it was friendly. Suggesting that he had seen you as nothing more than a friend before... Before you'd fucked it up.

Or the second... That he had seen you as something more all along, and that was what he perceived her as right after that kiss you had both shared.

And honestly, you didn't know which was worse.

"I'm going to be in town for the next few days if you wanted to grab a drink and catch up..." You had stalked past them in that moment, coat draped over your arm, catching her words in passing.

Chris' eyes followed you as he spoke, distracted by your shift in mood. "I'm actually here with someone..."

He trailed off, watching as you didn't even look at him as you brushed past. "Um, hold that thought," he said, already starting to follow you out. Her entire existence was dismissed by his need to get to you and discover why you were suddenly giving him the cold shoulder. "It was great seeing you again, tell Don I say hi – wait, no, scratch that–!"

He was practically yelling over his shoulder as he chased you down. "{Your name!} Wait up!"

You didn't stop, but you were at a disadvantage – your heels, his long legs – and he caught up to you easily. His hand on your shoulder was enough to make you flinch. Who knew you could read so much into the touch of a shoulder? "Hey, what's wrong?"

Your heart could've broken at the gentleness of his voice. Could've. You'd steeled yourself already, and it was glaringly noticeable. "Nothing is wrong, Chris, forget it."

"Just wait–"

You shrugged his hand off your shoulder. "I said forget it."

"I won't," he stepped closer. "Not when I can see something is bothering you."

"Well, I will," you stated, voice flat. You turned away from him to continue your retreat. "Can we just go home?"

When he refused to budge – instead looking at you with those mournful blue eyes of his, you sighed, exasperation and a touch of anger laced through. Why were you so upset, anyways?

"Chris, I just want to go home. I'm tired and I want to get out of this ridiculous fucking outfit so please. Please can we go home?"

He watched as you backed away from him, already pushing open the foyer door to step out onto the curb. His voice was so soft when he next spoke, you hadn't even heard him over the sudden symphony of noises from outside.

"Okay. Okay we'll go."

———————

"Hey, Evans!"

Chris peeled his eyes away from your silhouette to find new purchase on the person who'd called him. He'd been watching you try – and fail – to get a cab for a little over five minutes now. He was still trying to puzzle through your sudden tonal shift, and had ended up simply staring at you from afar for what felt like ages. His eyes burned. Had he blinked? He couldn't recall.

"What are you still doing here?" Anthony hollered from the other side of the foyer. As he drew closer, his voice lowered. "I thought you guys left a while ago."

"Is {your name} around?" Sebastian asked, still in the midst of shrugging on his coat that he'd just retrieved from coat check. "We wanted to say goodbye before we headed back to the hotel. Early flight and all that."

Chris struggled to find his voice, and when he did, it didn't sound much like himself. "She's outside, getting a cab."

"Oh, you guys are gonna go home and—" Anthony wiggled his brows suggestively.

Seb was quick to land a gentle slap on Anthony's shoulder, a silent hint to shut the fuck up. "I know that face. And that voice." Sebastian drew closer – approaching Chris almost like one does a wounded animal – and placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I... I don't know," Chris sighed. His voice sounded strangled, even to him. "She won't talk to me. Wants nothing to do with me by the looks of it."

Anthony pursed his lips. "Well, what did you do?"

"Why?" Sebastian sighed in exasperation. The question was addressed to no one in particular – except maybe God.

Anthony ignored him. "Man, do I have to spell it out for you? She's crazy about you, giving you those big doe eyes everytime you come within a five mile radius. That is some love shit if I've ever seen it," he chortled to himself. Snapping out of it, he leaned in menacingly – big brother mode activated. "So what did you do?"

"Oh, man..." Chris groaned, trying to remember the events that had led to this point. "Well, she was getting her coat."

Anthony nodded slowly, showing he was following. "Right."

"And this girl I used to date, she came over and we started talking."

"You've lost me," Mackie said, still nodding.

"What do you mean?"

Lightning quick, Anthony smacked Chris upside the head. It wasn't hard, a love tap at most, but it still made Chris grimace. "What do you mean, what do I mean? Honestly, both of you are so clueless. Man, she's perfect for you. Literally, perfect. So what are you talking to your ex for?"

"It wasn't like that, Ant," Chris groaned, rubbing the back of his head. "Wait, do you think she thinks...?"

"I don't know what she thinks. What I think, is that you should fix it. As soon as possible."

"Guess I'm in the lead again, huh?" Sebastian slid his hands coolly into his pockets, rocking on his heels.

Chris frowned. "You guys bet on us?"

"Not with money. With something much more meaningful," Seb smiled.

Anthony nodded sagely. "The settlement on who the Black Widow belongs with."

Chris winced. "That's a lot."

"Well, I had faith."

"He's Team Chris-and-{Your Name}-Should-Get-Married," Seb nodded toward Mackie. "I'm Team Let-Them-Live-Their-Lives."

"Yeah, the names are still a work in progress," Anthony admitted.

Chris sucked in a deep breath, fatigue suddenly hitting him like a freight train. "Well, it's late. You guys should probably get going. I'll text you with an update tomorrow."

Anthony had already started heading out, Sebastian at his side. He swiveled to face Chris. "If I'm not scandalized by what's about to go down tonight, don't even bother."

Sebastian took Mackie by the shoulder, guiding him away. "I'm going to take him back to the hotel before he has an aneurysm," he smiled apologetically. "He hasn't planned yours and {your name}'s wedding in a little over four hours now."

As they departed the building, Chris could still hear Anthony calling out to him.

"I want to be scandalized, Evans! Scandalized!"

———————

"What part of forget it is not getting to you, Christopher?"

He leaned against the doorframe of your room, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankles.

"I just want to know what I can do to make it better. Tell me what I can do to make it better."

You gently removed your earrings, tossing them on your desk, before removing your coat. When you'd gotten home, you'd gone straight to your room, and, in a great imitation of Dodger, Chris had followed you there. "It's nothing."

"Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it."

"That's exactly it, Chris. It's nothing. We were both drunk, and it will never happen again. It was nothing. So forget it."

You couldn't even look at him, instead choosing to speak over your shoulder. Because if you had seen him, been looking at him, you would've seen the hurt in his eyes, the pain in the set of his jaw. Your next words were a dismissal: "Thank you for the gift. Good night."

But it wouldn't be a good night, not for either of you.

You were too tired to cry, too tired to sleep, too tired to dream. You were just so... tired.

And Chris... He spent the night sleepless. Entirely unable to do what you asked, and forget. You had seared yourself into his mind, and he was entirely incapable of forgetting.

[faithfulcat111]

Okay, this bit is going to appear to start in a really weird place, but that is because I wrote this entire AU stream of consciousness style in my notes and just broke it into sections to post here cause it was like thirty pages. So part two!

Vanya wastes no time driving to Diego's. She can't get Five out of the car by herself, so she goes into the gym and manages to find Al who looks like he could be in charge and asks if he know where Diego is. Al is immediately defensive, wondering if this is some weird ex. Not Diego's usual type, but hey who is he to judge. When Al asks why she is looking for Diego, Vanya explains that she is his sister and she has their missing brother and needs Diego's help. Sister instantly set off red flags because as far as Al knew, Diego was pissed and fighting with both of them. Al wasn't even sure how many brothers Diego had, having only seen one around (the only sibling around actually), and only heard of the others as a group in passing. But a missing one? No wonder the kid is messed up. He agrees to help Vanya get Five into Diego's room as Diego is out right now and holy shit, that is a legit kid. Too old to be a kid of Diego's, but he almost looks too young to be their sibling. And Vanya is grabbing a couple duffle bags and abandons the keys. Something weird is going on. Al gets the kid inside for Vanya, but decides he is staying out of this mess.

Vanya waits inside. Five isn't waking and Diego takes a few hours to get back from his vigilante stuff. Al manages to catch him and says his brother and sister are waiting inside so don't throw those damn knives at them. Diego is confused, but Al keeps going, saying that his sister showed up with a kid claiming it was their missing brother and the kid looked horrible and, Diego runs into the room and stops short when he sees Five of all people sleeping on his bed with Vanya reading beside him. He is understandably not happy about Vanya just showing up and wants answers about why she and Five of all people are here. Vanya tries to explain the best she can with her limitied knowledge: Five showed up at some point, Dad was keeping him at the house cause he is sick or something due to time travel, Luther tried to contact the siblings, but could only get ahold of Vanya, Luther got Five out of the house before taking off to some important mission to the moon. Luther never saw Five awake and neither has Vanya yet. Diego needs a moment before he asks why Luther even bothered getting Five out. Vanya says that all he told her was Mom mentioned it, that Five needed family. Diego still feels like there are so many missing pieces, but you know what, he'll take what he has and since Mom wanted Five to get out like everyone else, then he is staying out.

Five chooses this moment to come back to consciousness. The two just hear a slight whimper behind them at first and turn to see Five sleepily blinking his eyes open. They stare at him for a long moment before he just screeches. Vanya practically jumps on the bed grabbing Five and holding him which promptly shuts him up. He looks absolutely bewildered. Diego steps forward, cautiously asking if Five knew who they were and where he was at. Five reaches up one hand to touch Vanya's arm and just whispers in a far too raspy voice, "Ghosts can't touch me." And then passes right back out.

Okay, their brother has obviously been through some things and is traumatized af. Diego helps Vanya navigate their brother out of the coat, startling when something falls out of one of the pockets. It's Vanya's book. Clearly it is Five's copy as a quick flip through the pages shows a bunch of equations scribbled through the margins. What stops Diego though is that this is a library copy. And the last date it was turned in was in 2019. Nearly four years from now. Vanya sees Diego holding the book and starts to say something, but is cut off by him just saying that Five definitely time traveled before showing her the stamps showing when the book was last checked in. He then says that Veggie will be looking for them, or at least Five, and they need to go. So he stuffs some things into his own duffle bag, hands all the bags to Vanya, scoops up Five, and leads the way.

This is where I stopped writing for two months because I was working on another AU and had finals and holidays, but I think I remember where I was going with this, so here we go.

Diego, Vanya, and Five take off with only a call to Eudora from Diego (who they are newly broken-up, so it takes awhile, but Diego finally just tells her he has to leave for awhile and if she can keep an eye out for Klaus, he would appreciate it) and Diego telling Al to just box his stuff up or sell it. They leave in Diego's car, although they trade it out at a sketchy car lot the next town over. Why did they take off like this? Diego knows what the evil there father figure is and Vanya quickly figured out they would have to leave to avoid him taking back Five, which is her focus. It doesn't take long for Diego to deduce that is her intentions and for his big brother instincts to take over and decide to run with them and take care of the two.

Through the initial 24 hours after they take off, Five is mostly asleep. They bring him back to consciousness a couple of times to drink something or eat something soft, but he appears to also have some kind of fever.

They end up in a mediumish-sized town in the midwest just big enough that they can disappear into. They pull the siblings trying to get away from abusive situation card with a nice old lady who manages an apartment building and lets them stay and even hires Diego as part of her maintenence crew for the buildings she runs till he can find a proper job. The old lady seems to be under the impression that Five is one of their kids, not little brother, but they can't figure out whose kid she thinks he is, because she clearly knows that Diego and Vanya are siblings and it is a whole thing. They also give fake names when signing their lease, but I'll figure those out later.

Five finally wakes up more coherent then he has been a couple days later under Vanya's careful care. He seems very confused about where he is, understandably, but especially by Diego and Vanya being there. He appears to vaguely remember being locked up by the trauma-meister, but seems hesitant to explain what happened before that. Vanya explains that Luther got him out before taking off on some important mission to the moon on Grace's prodding and Vanya and Diego took off with him as they didn't want Veggie taking him back to his torture chamber.

After a little bit of prodding, they finally get out of Five that he traveled to the end of the world, set to happen in 2019 and they need to stop it and that he was trapped there for two years. Diego and Vanya are doubtful, but they agree to help under the condition that they do it under the radar considering they need to stay hidden from Vegetable until at least 2018 when Five will be, biologically 18.

And that is the premise. There is no permanent orchestra in the town they moved to, but Vanya lands a job teaching music theory and such at the community college and giving private lessons to local kids on the side. After a month of working for Ms. Roberts (I've decided that is their landlord's name), Diego gets a much better job, working first in janitorial at the local gym and a temp trainer, before being hired on permanently. Five is a bit more trouble. People seem to freak him out in large quantities, but he is also a kid, even though he is a very smart kid. And with Ms. Roberts knowing he is a minor, they really don't want the CPS breathing down their necks and taking their technically kidnapped, but very traumatized brother away. So, Vanya finds a local homeschool coalition. It requires that Five shows up for an in-person class once a week, but he can do the rest of his classes online and that gives him plenty of time to work on the end of the world stuff. He picks the music theory class that Vanya volunteers to teach to give Five free tuition.

And the three slowly build a life in this town. Diego and Vanya seem to have silently agreed to just pretend the Book never happened so they can take care of Five. Five clearly has nightmares and freaks out at both people and being without his siblings, so he goes with them everywhere (he ends up auditing all the classes Vanya teaches at the university when he enrolls at 17 to start on a math degree, mainly because he already sat through the classes a couple of times at this point).

They don't contact Vanya's orchestra, they were miffed when she called to say she wasn't showing up anymore the day she got Five. Diego calls Eudora after about six months to check in. She picked up Diego's only box of stuff from Al that he left behind and is holding it for him and agrees since Vanya's year lease is almost up to clear out Vanya's old apartment soon. (She is just being really great, but they aren't telling her the brother they are watching is a kidnapped minor for a reason). She also tells them that she had to put Klaus back in rehap a month ago and he had seemed really confused by her doing it instead of Diego like usual. Diego won't tell her where he is though. She does agree to look into the eye Five finally admitted he has from the apocalypse and will gather all info she can find for when Diego calls back. (When he does a few months later, she tells them the eye doesn't exist, the company it is from hasn't even started making prosthetic eyes yet).

And then, Vanya's pills. Well, she realizes she is running low and since they are laying low, she can't exactly call her old therapist or psychiatrist and get a refill. So, she goes to a new one who flips at the level she is taking (how is that allowed!!!) and starts a plan to wean her off those and onto a new set of anxiety meds that would be better for her. Vanya starts to feel happier and better overall. There is complaining about the bad lightbulbs Diego always buys because one seems to shatter every two months and she always seems to know what either boys are muttering even across the room, but none of them really notice Vanya's powers. Maybe because Five seems genuinely terrified of his own at the moment and they all know they can't draw attention to themselves as former members of the Umbrella Academy, but powers are the furthest thing from everyone's minds. Diego even goes to a sort of seedy tattoo artist and gets his covered up, playing up the umbrella as a stupid drunk mistake he wants to forget and Five takes to wearing long sleeves and bracelets so people can't see his. Five also goes and sees this therapist and gets classic GAD and PTSD and goes on anxiety meds too eventually. Vanya just has SAD and over the time they are in this town, she eventually gets weaned down to an as needed pill, which she only is to take for an attack which ends up being once every couple weeks or so. Five is on daily meds. Dunno yet if this will be relevant, but to give you an idea of the starting point I have for each of them. Five also has asthma from all the ash.

[13-reasons-ideas]

Marry Me

A/N: I decided to take a stab at doing a songfic. It is MontyxOC and I hope you guy’s like it. I based it off of Thomas Rhett’s Marry Me. This part is from the bride’s perspective. For this part, I recommend listening to the bride’s perspective linked below. There will be another part from Monty’s perspective coming soon. This is a long one. I hope you like it as much as I do. As always, much love. Word Count: 7963

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xqxEYUcW-cU

My fiancé, Evan, and I finally made it to San Fran International Airport, after a long day of traveling from Atlanta. I managed to get some more wedding planning done on the plane from Dallas. My parents were throwing us a second engagement party at home, so we made the trip out early on after he popped the question. Once we had left baggage claim with our bags, I led him through the airport to pickups.

He insisted on holding the bags while I looked for Scott. My parents weren’t able to get off work, so he had kindly offered to pick us up in San Francisco. I searched the crowd and spotted him standing off to the side, near a vending machine. “Scott!” I called as I waved and broke into a run towards him. He caught me in his arms and twirled me around.

“There she is.” He muttered into my hair as he put me down. I felt Evan put his hand on my back and I leaned into him. “You must be the one who stole her heart. I’m Scott.” He said, sticking his hand out.

“Evan.” He replied, shaking his hand firmly.

“So, let’s see the ring.” I smiled brightly at him and showed him my round two carat pave ring. He whistled when he saw it. “That’s nice. It suits you. Did she pick it?”

“No, I looked at her Pinterest.”

“Smart man.” Scott said as he picked up my bag and walked us out to the car, Evan’s hand firmly in mine the whole time.

On the way back into town, Scott shared stories of all the trouble I used to get my friends in and out of in high school. “There was this one time none of us had studied for a midterm coming up and so Ellie here called us all over to her place, and sat us down with colour coded notes, charts, the whole thing and spent the whole weekend tutoring us.”

“Only because you all had to pass that exam to stay on the team.” I interjected.

“El, it’s not like they would have kicked the whole team off the team. We were all pretty antsy by the end of the weekend.”

“But they could have cancelled the rest of your season. How happy would you have been then, hmmm?”

“Fine, fine. You win. But what about that time Monty and Bryce decided to climb in that old treehouse in Bryce’s backyard and you had to call the fire department?”

“You mean the time they almost fell out a tree? Yeah, I remember that. I also remember not speaking to either of them for like three days afterwards.”

“Oh, don’t think I forgot that detail. Monty wouldn’t shut up about it until you finally talked to him again.”

“Not my fault genius one and genius two climbed into a treehouse they hadn’t been in since they were like eighty pounds lighter. Bryce cried, Scott.”

“You didn’t talk to them because they went in a treehouse?” Evan asked.

“No babe. I didn’t talk to them because they got stuck in a treehouse. And I couldn’t climb up there to save their genius butts because any more weight would have sent the whole thing tumbling to the ground. And then Coach would have had my ass for breaking them.”

“I’m guessing there was alcohol involved in these shenanigans?”

“Oh yes.” Scott laughed, “they were drunk off their asses. Monty hugged one of the firefighters.”

“Ellie mentioned something about him not being a hugger.”

“He isn’t. Took him like 4 years to hug me. And I’m his best friend. We had food poisoning together when we were younger, and he still wouldn’t do it.” I shuddered at the memory.

“Lovely.”

“Yeah, but anywho. They barely made it into the pool house before they passed out.”

“We don’t call her Mom for nothing.”

“Okay designated Dad friend.”

“At least when we hung out after homecoming we didn’t-” Scott started. My eyes widened. Are you serious Scott?!

“Trip and fall flat on our faces in front of the whole school?” I cut him off quickly.

He gave me a weird look in the rear view. Thankfully, Evan was looking out the window as we were getting closer to town. I gave him a what the fuck look back. “Uh, yeah. That was pretty funny actually. Matt and Garrison were so excited we won that they tripped over their own feet and faceplanted.”

Evan didn’t appear to be listening anymore. Scott drove the rest of the way and when we got into town, I texted Monty. Hey you. I just got into town with Evan for the weekend. Are you free tonight?

He texted me back a few minutes later, yeah I’m free. What’s up?

“Don’t worry about showing him the noteworthy spots. We are going to look around after church on Sunday.” I mentioned to Scott, not looking up from my phone. I replied to Montgomery swiftly, drinks or coffee? Just you and me. My parents are going over some details for tomorrow with Evan that they don’t want me around for.

Sure. Meet you at Monet’s at six?

I’ll save you a seat. Usual order?

You know I don’t change things Elliebear. I smiled affectionately at the nickname and put my phone away. Scott had pulled up in front of my parent’s house.

“See you tomorrow Scotty.” I told him, reaching around the driver’s seat to rub his hair.

“El, not the hair. I’ll see you. It was nice meeting you Evan.”

“You too, Scott. Have a good night.”

The door opened as soon as we set foot on the front walk and my mom poked her head out. “Hey Mom. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, come here and let me look at you.” She cooed, pulling and prodding me to get a good look.

“Mom, relax. I haven’t changed that much since the last time I saw you.”

“Hello Mrs. Davis. How are you?” Evan asked her as he pulled me closer to him to stop her examining.

“I’m lovely dear. Robert set up the guest room for you. Ellie, you’ll be in your own room.”

“I know Mom. Wasn’t expecting anything less.”

As we walked into the living room, dad looked up from his newspaper, “hey sweetheart, Evan.” “Mr. Davis.” Evan greeted and shook his hand firmly.

“Now now, what have we told you? You will be family soon enough. It’s Robert or Dad.”

“And Jillian or Mom.” My mom added.

“I know. Habit.”

“Well Ellie-muffin, what did you want to do tonight for your first night back in town?”

“I thought you had to talk to Evan about stuff. And I understood from mom that I wasn’t supposed to be there. So, I kind of already made plans….”

“That’s right. I told you about it last week Rob. We have to go over stuff for tomorrow.”

Dad thought for a moment, trying to remember the conversation, “that’s right. Sorry Jill, I’ve been busy with work and stuff that it must have slipped my mind.”

“What are you doing tonight, beautiful?”

“Just going to get a coffee with Monty now that I’m back in town.” I told him, casually. It’s just coffee and catching up with a friend.

“That sounds like fun. Let him know I’m looking forward to meeting him tomorrow.”

“I will. I’m going to run upstairs and change. You guys have fun down here.”

“What about dinner, Ellie?”

“It’s okay mom, I’ll just grab some soup or something at Monet’s.”

At about twenty to six, I decided to head out. I chose a cute, casual ensemble. I had thrown on one of Monty’s old baseball shirts, that I stole in the ninth grade or something with some jeans and sneakers. It was comfortable and he never asked for it back, so I kept it. Sometimes I wore it to run errands or when I was running late to class in college. “Bye guys. Love you Evan.” I called from the door. My family had holed themselves up in my dad’s office to talk about the party tomorrow, and I had strict instructions not to disturb them. I heard a chorus of ‘bye’s from the house as I left.

I beat Monty to the café but that wasn’t surprising really since I had left so early.

“Hey, what can I get you this evening?”

“Can I get a-”

“She’ll get a skinny vanilla bean latte with only one pump of vanilla, a dash of cinnamon, and extra foam in a for here cup. I’ll get a regular black coffee. And she’ll also have the chicken and spinach sandwich.” I heard Monty say behind me. The barista looked at me, unsure if she should ring it in or not. I nodded at her and turned around to face him. Before he had a chance to say anything, I jumped into his arms for a hug. I did manage to salvage some dignity and not screech in his ear.

“Hey Elliebear.” He said after grunting from the impact.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Our orders were finished quickly as it was surprisingly slow for a Friday night. Luckily, that meant our table was free. We sat down and conversation flowed easily. It was almost like we had never been apart.

“The ring is nice. It suits you. Bigger than I thought you would like but it’s nice.”

“It is nice, yeah. That reminds me, Evan said he’s looking forward to meeting you tomorrow.”

“So am I. See who finally caught your interest.”

“I was interested in other people before Evan.” I told him, scandalously.

“Ellie. That guy from drama class doesn’t count. And neither does your chemistry partner.”

“I was not interested in Adam. And Zach was my chemistry partner. I can assure you I was not into him.”

“Please, enlighten me as to these people you were interested in before Evan.”

“There was,” I paused. You. “Dylan from sophomore English was cute. Ian. Couple other guys in high school. Peter from my first year anthropology class was… very attractive, and smart.” I’ll just leave out that Peter was the professor.

“One guy aside from Evan? University of Georgia is a big school. There’s no way you only had eyes for two people.”

“I was busy. I practically lived in the library when I wasn’t in class or my dorm. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is there a girl I should be hearing about? Or should have heard about?”

“Nah. Nothing important or anything to write home about. I was busy.”

“Oh please Monty, you played ball at OSU. You honestly expect me to believe there was no girl in your life?”

“No, no. There were girls. Just nothing really serious.”

“Uh, huh.” I replied, sarcastically. When I reached for my cup, he reached for his, and our hands brushed. I was immediately transported back to the day of homecoming in senior year.

Flashback

“Remember students. The homecoming game is tonight at 6:30. You’ll want to be there early as our Liberty Tigers take on the Hildebrandt Mustangs if you want good seats. It’s sure to be a nail biter.” Principal Bolan’s voice boomed from the intercom during the morning announcements.

“In order for it to be a nail biter, our team would actually have to have a chance at winning.” Alex muttered to Clay and me.

“They are playing Hildebrandt. We could literally not show up and still win.” I told him, as I adjusted my bag on our walk from Alex’s locker to mine, where Zach was meeting me before chemistry.

“Maybe they got good over the summer. Didn’t Bryce spend the summer in Greece or something? Relaxing and drinking poolside?”

“I think it was somewhere in Italy, actually.”

“Either way, I don’t think he spent his summer bulking up and practicing for the season.”

“I mean, they have Monty.”

“And? What did he spend his summer doing Ellie?”

“When I wasn’t at camp, we spent the summer together. There was no poolside drinking. When I was at camp he hung out with Scott and did boy stuff. They also worked out a lot.”

“How was camp by the way?” Clay asked.

“It was good. Learned a lot from my campers. They learned a lot from me. Only one incident of blood. It was pretty good.”

We had made it to my locker, and I was arranging my books when I felt myself being pulled into someone’s arms and lifted off the ground. “Montgomery, put me down!” I laughed, feeling my whole body shake.

“Never.” He laughed, evilly.

“I have to grab my chem book. And go to chemistry.”

“I’ve got it.” Zach’s voice drifted over to me, “you carrying her to class today?”

“Nah, I thought about it but since I had to come find her this morning, I figure she can make it there on her own.”

“I was running late. My alarm didn’t go off when it was supposed to.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Monty replied, putting me down and shaking his head. I turned my attention back to my other friends.

“I’ll see you guys later? Zach and I are running late.”

“Sure. Justin said if I don’t go to the game tonight, he’d tell mom and dad about Ani. And I don’t want to deal with that.”

“Someone has to keep Clay company, so I have to go too.” Alex said, pushing clay lightly.

“Great. I’ll see you then. See you at lunch Monty.”

Lunch seemed to take forever and a half to arrive. I knew sleeping in would mess with my day. The guys were already at their usual table when I arrived and sat next to Monty, no closer than we usually did. “Ellie, think you could pray for us to not lose this game tonight?” Bryce sniggered from the end of the table. I only rolled my eyes in response.

“Hey, quit being a dick.” Monty told him. Bryce responded by chucking a grape at him.

“It’s fine Monty. Not like he hasn’t done it before.” I didn’t have to look up from my lunch to know he was sporting a displeased face. “It’s going to take a lot more than God to help you win if you don’t learn to throw better than that in the next six hours. But sure.” I made a show of getting myself ready to pray verbally, but not with intention, “Lord, please help the guys win tonight. Give them the ability to not trip over themselves when they make plays. And God, please show Bryce how to make the ball go where it’s supposed to and not hit some poor kid in the head again. Maybe, just maybe, then he will get laid tonight and we all know that’s really why he asked me to pray.”

The boys laughed hysterically around me as I smirked at Bryce.

“You need to quit hanging out with Monty, he’s rubbing off on you too much. And I was serious.”

“I know. I’ll do it for real after lunch. You can sit with me if you want.” I offered but knew he would decline.

I ran home to change after school for the game. “Mom, have you seen my baseball shirt?” I called, searching my room for Monty’s shirt.

“The last I saw it, it was on your dresser.” I dug around on my dresser for a bit until I found it.

“Thanks Mom.” I called, shrugging it on. I quickly fixed my hair and grabbed a sweater before bolting back out the door to meet Alex before the game.

I met him in the school parking lot, at about six. “Hey Lex.”

“Hey El. Clay should be here soon and we can go find a seat.”

“That’s good.” We made small talk for a few minutes before Clay pulled up in one of the Priuses. Pri-i?

“Hey guys. Ready to go watch us get our asses handed to us on the field?”

“Your brother is playing Clay. Have a little faith.”

“I guess you’re right. I can’t say he isn’t a good player. But even still. Justin and Monty can’t carry the whole team all night.”

“Scott and Charlie help. Zach is good.”

“Oh goody. Five of forty-seven players are good. That makes me feel so much prouder of them.” Alex joked as we found a decent seat in the middle of the stands at the beginning of the row.

“Well, just think, if we do win tonight, then the team will be too busy celebrating to give anyone a hard time for a few days.”

“Now that you mention celebrating Ellie, if they win are you going to go with Monty after the game?” Clay asked

“I told him I would meet him at Monet’s with the rest of them whether we win or lose.”

“Okay. Can you keep an eye on Justin? I don’t really feel like going out with the football team for the evening.”

“No problem. Is everything alright?”

“I think he’s just trying to figure out where he fits now that he’s doing better and on the team. I don’t think he thought he would get this far.”

“That’s fair. I’ll make sure he sits with us for a bit. See if I can make Monty play nice.”

“See if you can? Ellie. He would jump off a cliff if you asked him to. I don’t like him, but I know he likes you.” Alex argued. Likes me? I mean sure, as his friend. Right? I brushed off the thoughts and where they could lead and have occasionally led in the past.

“He doesn’t really like heights. But I guess you’re right. He’s my best friend.”

“Sure. Best friend.” Alex said, shaking his head. I watched him share a look with Clay.

“I’m going to go grab a water, you guys want anything?”

“No, I’m good thanks.” Clay said, his eyes scanning the crowd of arriving students, likely for Ani.

“Nah. Mom sent me with some kind of weird protein thing. It doesn’t taste half bad, so I’ll just have that.” Alex said, shaking a bottle. I nodded and ran down the bleachers to the concession.

After getting a bottle of cold water, I ran back up just before the game started. The teams had just gotten on the field and had lined up. As expected, the game was in our favour most of the first half. I waved at Monty occasionally when he was on the sidelines and he looked over at me. He smiled and waved back. During the second half Hildebrandt seemed to find their groove and the game was at least interesting. It wasn’t really much of a nail biter as Principal Bolan had promised this morning, but it wasn’t really boring either. Everyone knew that regardless of how we played, we would probably win. The game ended and the team and the crowd were excited. Matt and Garrison were so excited by the win, they tripped over their own feet and faceplanted on the sidelines. The excitement died down for a moment until they shot up and went on celebrating. As the team filtered off the field, students began leaving. “See you Monday Ellie.” Alex said as we hugged goodbye.

“See you. Have a good weekend guys. I have to go catch up with Monty.”

I spotted him waiting for me by the locker room, gym bag on his shoulder. “Good game.” I said as I walked up to him.

“Of course, it was. I was on the field.”

“Modest as ever I see.”

“Do you expect anything else at this point Elliebear?” “Not really. But I can hope, maybe one day.”

“Maybe, but not likely.”

“Oh hey, while I’m thinking about it, Clay asked me to keep an eye on Justin tonight.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I think so. Clay said something about him having issues adjusting and stuff. Do you think you can play nice with him for a while?”

“I suppose, since he is your friend, I can try and be nice for a while. But not all night. I want some Ellie time.”

“And you’ll get your Ellie time. After you make nice with Justin.”

He sighed and was about to respond when Bryce called us, “are you two going to stand there and chit chat all night or are we going to celebrate?”

“We’re coming. Give us a minute asshole.” Monty called back to him. Bryce waved him off and walked away, leaving us alone.

He turned his back to me, “hop on”, he told me as he bent down slightly. Once I was secure against his body, he began to walk us out to the parking lot. Because he wasn’t paying attention, it was the perfect time to steal his hat. Plucking it off his head, I placed it on mine. It was slightly too big, but I didn’t mind.

“That’s my hat El.”

“I know. I happen to like it though, so I’m wearing it.”

“I’m not getting it back tonight, am I?”

“Nope. It is now mine. Might even write my name in it.”

“You do that Ellie. I won’t care when I steal it back who’s name it has in it.”

“Fine. Then I’ll readjust it.” I smirked.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would.”

He laughed as we arrived at our cars and he set me down. “No, you wouldn’t.” He shook his head for emphasis, calling my bluff. I pushed him lightly and rolled my eyes.

“Whatever. I’ll see you at Monet’s in a few with your precious hat.”

True to my word, I arrived at Monet’s a few minutes later, Monty’s hat placed firmly on my head. The place was packed with students celebrating the win. I went to the counter and greeted Skye, placing our usual orders and adding whatever Justin usually got. Once placed, I turned to look for a table. Luckily most students knew where Montgomery and I sat so our table was clear. Making a couple of trips, I placed the drinks on the table and pulled out my phone. I texted Justin quickly, hey Justin. I grabbed you a coffee. Feel free to sit with Monty and I when you get here. Don’t worry, he agreed to be nice. He replied with a thumbs up. The sound of a chair scraping the floor next to me startled me. “I see you told the truth. Can I have it back now?”

“No. I think it looks quite fetching on me, if I do say so myself.” I spoke regally, swiveling my head to show him from multiple angles.

“Fetching?”

“Yes. Do you disagree?”

“No, I think it looks good on you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Monty and I chatted quietly before Justin showed up. “Hey guys.” He said, standing slightly awkwardly to the side of the table.

“Justin! You made it.” I exclaimed, smiling. Monty shot me a tone it down look. He smiled back at me as I stood and moved next to Monty. “Make room.”

“Can do sweetheart.” He charmed, patting the chair next to me. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore the flutter in my stomach when he called me sweetheart, before sitting down.

“Thanks for the coffee Ellie.” Justin told me, taking a sip.

“No problem.” The three of us chatted idly for a while. Monty was nice to Justin and even laughed a few times at one thing or another he said.

Somewhere along the line of our conversation, our hands drifted towards each other under the table. I felt his hand wrap around mine and I felt my cheeks flame. The flutters were back, and I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He acted like he hadn’t noticed that we were holding hands. “Hey Justin, come over here and look at this.” Charlie called over to our table. He was looking at something on Garrisons’ phone. Justin waved to him and stood up, taking his coffee with him. I wonder if he noticed we are holding hands. Maybe he’s leaving us alone for a reason. Maybe….

“And then there were two.” Monty spoke, pulling me from my thoughts before they could go any further.

“Then there were two.” I echoed.

“That shirt looks good on you. It’s pretty familiar too.”

“Oh, yeah. There may be a reason for that.”

“Need to go talk to Mike?”

“Not if you don’t have a problem with it. I think he would agree it was simply borrowing, rather than stealing. No need to involve Jesus.”

“I am. So now you’ve got my shirt and my hat. Anything else you intend on taking of mine?”

“Possibly. Depends what else you’re willing to offer.” I flirted slightly, moving my hair behind my ear.

“I think there’s a thing or two I could offer you Ellie.” He flirted back, leaning in slightly. Oh my goodness. He’s going to kiss me. My thoughts immediately began flashing forward at a rapid pace. Us going for innocent coffee dates. Introducing him to dad as my boyfriend. The possibility of church on Sundays. Introducing him to Pastor Mike. Our first fight. Making up from said fight. Getting accepted to the same college. Graduation. College. A ring. Coming home and getting married in the little white church just out of town. Marriage. Kids. Sitting on our porch when we are old and grey. Before he could kiss me, Bryce called him from across the room. He stopped just short of my lips and looked over at him, “what?”

“My place, half an hour.” He called back. Monty nodded in response and turned back to me. I was smiling at him, trying to hide the fact that I was mildly hurt he stopped short of kissing me. Or that I was annoyed that my mind had gone so far once again. I chuckled and took a drink of my coffee. I looked at my watch and saw that even though it wasn’t necessarily late late, it was late enough that I could get away with leaving on account of the time.

“Shoot. Is that really the time? I have plans with my mom in the morning. I should get going.” I said, getting up and grabbing my bag.

“Oh, okay. Are we still on for waffles Sunday afternoon?”

“Yeah. Be at my place around one? I need to talk to Pastor Mike about a few things after service.”

“I’ll be there. Text me when you get home.”

“I will.” I said, trying to keep the hurried tone out of my voice. I just want to get out of here. I took my cup back to the counter and made my way to the door, trying to keep an even pace. I didn’t look back as I left the café.

End Flashback

Shaking the memory from my mind, I pried some more. “What about the blonde girl you told me about briefly?”

“Sara?”

“Yeah.”

“She was nice. Very peppy and chipper though.”

“Ah yes. Need to keep up that stoic exterior. Can’t have someone too chipper, lest people think you have a soul or something.”

“Exactly.” He laughed. He took a long sip from his cooled coffee. “Can you imagine if I brought her home?”

“Well, knowing your mother, I would probably be attending your engagement party tomorrow instead of the other way around.”

“Oh probably.”

“How is your mom doing, by the way?” “She’s doing okay. After dad died, she was pretty out of it for a few months. She’s gotten better with time though. Really started to come into her own and forge her own path.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Not going to ask how I’m doing Ellie?”

“No. I know how you’re doing.”

“Oh really?”

“Montgomery. I am your best friend. Your dad was never a parent. DNA doesn’t make someone your family. You’re doing the same as you did the day you left and vowed to never speak to him again.”

He looked surprised at me. “Sometimes I forget how well you know me.”

“I know. That’s why I have to remind you all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah. How did Evan react to Scott on the way from the airport?”

“I’m not totally sure. I don’t think he realized how things worked at Liberty and exactly what you and I being friends meant. Scott told him about the treehouse.”

“Oh no. Ellie. I need to look the guy in the eye tomorrow.”

“I know you do. Don’t worry. He didn’t seem upset or anything. I think he found it amusing actually.”

“Did he tell him anything else?”

“About you?”

“Yeah.”

“No, mentioned how you guys fucked up and didn’t study for midterms and I singlehandedly kept you all on the team. And how Matt and Garrison managed to keep themselves above their feet until after homecoming senior year.”

“Of course, he did.”

“Don’t worry. Evan will like you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I like you. And even though you think you are, you really aren’t a bad guy.” We talked for about another hour or so, just catching up, before we decided to call it a night.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Three o’clock sharp.”

“Good.” I said squeezing him in a hug. When we pulled apart he looked down at me, seeming to finally notice my shirt.

“Is that my shirt?”

“Yes it is.”

“I thought I lost that years ago.”

“You never asked for it back. We agreed that I technically borrowed it, remember?”

“Yeah but I also thought you would have given it back by now.”

“I mean, I can give it back to you tomorrow if you want it.” I offered.

“No, no. You keep it. You seem comfortable in it.” I smiled at him in response before he hugged me again and we said goodbye.

The next morning was somewhat hectic in the Davis household. My mom was up at a time God himself would shake his head at, doing last minute cleaning. My dad was up shortly after, making sure the yard hadn’t disappeared overnight or something. I woke up around ten and before I could even get a sip of coffee in me, I was already being bombarded with questions about what I was wearing or how I was doing my hair by my mom. Jeez Louise, if the engagement party is like this, what will the wedding day be like? “I have a white dress with flowers I was going to wear. It’s strapless and cute. Dressy enough for a party.”

“Strapless?”

“Yes Mom. It is strapless. I brought a cardigan to wear with it before you have a coronary.”

“Well I suppose that is alright then. And your hair?”

“A simple curled high ponytail. I have an elastic with a bow on it to use. I have thought about this you know.”

“I know dear. It’s just all so exciting, isn’t it? My only daughter is getting married.”

“Very exciting, yes.” I grumbled. “Now will you please let me go get a cup of coffee?”

“Can’t that wait darling? We have so much to do.”

“She will be much more of a help after a coffee Jillian.” Evan spoke from the hall upstairs. “Give her a few minutes to wake up and she will be ready to go, won’t you El?”

“Yes, I will.” I replied, moving towards the kitchen in search of the rich black liquid. Evan came down and grabbed the milk from the fridge to steam for my latte. “Thank you, I appreciate that you did that.” I whispered to him, gratefully.

“Of course, Buttercup.” He muttered into the top of my head and measuring out the perfect amount of milk into the pitcher, before half emptying a packet of Splenda into my mug. I set to work grinding and packing the espresso powder. I enjoyed my latte over my Bible while Evan got ready for the day’s events.

Shortly after I had gotten dressed, the caterers arrived, and it became even more hectic. They were finishing various dishes and trying to make room in the fridge. I watched on from the sidelines and tried to stay out of the way as much as possible. Evan came over to me and placed his arm around my waist. “You look beautiful.”

“You look great too, handsome.” I blushed, placing my arm around his waist too. Finally, around 2:30, the caterers had finished all of the food and set up. Cupcakes had been delivered and were set out on cake stands. Balloons were up and fairy lights lined the crown moulding around the living room. The room looked perfect.

Guests began arriving just before three. Justin and his girlfriend Sasha were the first to arrive. Justin and Jessica had broken up halfway through their first year of college, the strain of long distance becoming too much for them. They were still amicable in social situations though.

“Hey Justin. Hello Sasha. How are you guys?” I greeted them, warmly.

“We are good.” Justin replied, his hand firmly placed in hers.

“Hey guys.” Evan greeted them. The pair waved in acknowledgement.

“Let’s see the ring Ellie.” Sasha gushed. I held out my hand while she examined and fawned over the ring. I caught Evan and Justin share a look. Oh boy. This could get interesting for the man.

We continued greeting guests, accepting congratulations and gifts, and smiling as they arrived. Monty showed up right at three, as promised. “Hey you.” I greeted, beaming at him.

“Hey Elliebear.” He said, pulling me into a quick hug. Evan stood to the side, giving us a moment. I pulled away and turned towards Evan.

“Evan, this is Monty. Monty, this is Evan.” I motioned. They shook hands.

“So, you found the way to Ellie’s heart, huh?”

“Yeah. She is something special. I thank God every day that she decided to give me a chance.”

“Don’t I know it?” Monty replied, almost whistfully.

My mom called me over and I decided it would be a good idea to perhaps not leave the boys alone together. “Coming Mom. Scott is over there by the cupcakes.” I said, pointing him out. “Try to keep him from eating himself to a sugar high?”

Monty laughed, “can do Ellie. It was nice meeting you Evan. Congratulations.”

“You too Monty. Enjoy the party.”

I watched as he walked over and greeted Scott, taking a glass of champagne and a cupcake for himself. My mom called me over again and I ran over to see what she wanted. The party went off without a hitch. The only thing that concerned me was the way my eyes sought out Montgomery all afternoon and not my fiancé. Not to mention the all too familiar fluttering in my belly whenever I was near him or made eye contact with him.

**

The day had finally arrived. After a year of meticulous planning, it was finally my wedding day. All of the stress and details and late-night crying had all led up to this one day. The church was beginning to fill with guests. The loving memory sign was placed near the altar. I thought of how my granddad would have been the one to preach the service if he was still with us when I decided on the placement. My bridesmaids had already left the room to line up to walk down the aisle. Evan would be at the altar by now. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I couldn’t shake the feeling of fear that was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

My off-white wedding dress was on, my veil in place on my head, and my makeup and hair looked flawless. Everything was perfect. Almost everything. I shook in the bridal room, waiting for the planner to call for me. You can do this Ellie. I fiddled with my engagement ring for a moment before I heard Melissa knock on the door, “we are ready for you Ellie.” Forcing a big smile on my face, I nodded to her and walked out of the room where my dad was waiting to walk me down the aisle.

“You look beautiful sweetheart.” He told me as I handed him my engagement ring for safe keeping and took his arm. The chapel doors opened, and Evan turned to look at me from the altar. I could tell his eyes were wet with unshed tears and when he saw me, he covered his mouth and looked up, trying to hold the tears back. The crowd was standing watching our reactions. My bridesmaids smiles beamed from the altar, brightly. I trained my eyes on him as my dad walked me down the aisle. My dad gave me to Evan and Pastor Mike began the service.

“We are gathered here today, before God and those closest to Ellie and Evan to join them in in celebrating their love and commitment to one another.” He continued speaking, “when Ellie called me to announce her engagement, I was thrilled for her. By the time they got around to coming back to Evergreen County from their home in Atlanta, and they asked me to officiate, I knew my answer would be a resounding yes. Getting to know Evan and see these two together over the last number of months, has opened my eyes to how these two help each other in their journey to seek to know and have a relationship with the Lord. Ellie mentioned early on in planning to me, that her favourite verse in the Bible is 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 and expressed the importance of including it on this special day. I would like to read you that verse now.  4 Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud 5 or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. 6 It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. 7 Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.

8 Prophecy and speaking in unknown languages[a] and special knowledge will become useless. But love will last forever!”

Pastor Mike continued speaking, but my eyes had begun to scan the crowd. They swept from one side of the church to the other. Near the back on the right side, next to the door, I spotted some of my friends. I saw Scott and Justin, along with Sasha, sitting with Charlie and Zach. Bryce surprised me and RSVP’d yes, even if part of me knew he knew I only invited him out of politeness. He was sitting next to Charlie, sandwiched next to Clay and Alex. As my eyes continued to scan the room, I didn’t see him. When they landed on Scott and I maintained eye contact for a moment, he shrugged, and frowned slightly. He isn’t here. He didn’t come. Tears filled my eyes and I turned back to Evan, my hand still resting in his. I made sure to smile so it appeared that I was merely overwhelmed with joy and not feeling my heart be crushed with despair. “Evan Andrew Taylor, do you take Ellie Marie Davis to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part, according to God's holy ordinance?”

“I do.” Evan replied, wholeheartedly.

“And do you Ellie Marie Davis, take Evan Andrew Taylor to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part, according to God's holy ordinance?”

I took on last look at the crowd gathered around us and made eye contact with Scott before turning back to Evan, “I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I spoke quietly, letting go of his hand. I looked back at Scott and nodded to him. He turned to Justin and Zach, as the crowd gasped. I stepped down from the altar and it seemed to kick my friend’s butts into gear.

“Shi-” Scott started before realizing he was in a church. “Shoot.” He amended, quickly. He stood up and met me at the end of the aisle as my friends joined me in running out of the church. To our surprise, Bryce tossed Scott his keys and Zach picked me up to carry me to the car. “Zach drives.” He said, giving me a thumbs up.

We were in Bryce’s car before Scott spoke again, “did that really just happen?”

“Yeah. Yeah it did.” I was still in shock.

“Why?” Justin asked as we drove away from the church.

“He wasn’t there.” I said simply, staring out the window. “I couldn’t marry Evan knowing that I was in love with someone else. I couldn’t stand up there and say I do to him when I was praying for someone to stand up and object. Or to be up there with me instead.”

The boys were silent for a while as we drove around. Scott was in the front, looking for Montgomery’s car in every lot we passed. Justin was holding my hand tightly, trying his best to soothe me.

“You should know that he was. There.” Zach advised, “he wanted to be, but he couldn’t mess things up for you and he couldn’t sit and watch you get married to someone that wasn’t him.”

I didn’t respond, I merely tried to absorb the information I was being given. He was there. Why didn’t he come and tell me anything? Why didn’t he mess things up? I was pulled from my thoughts when my phone vibrated, alerting me I had a text. It was from Bryce. Monet’s. Your table. I never thought I would see the day where I would honestly thank Bryce Walker and mean it once, let alone twice. “He’s at Monet’s.”

“How do you know?” Zach asked, glancing in the rear view to make a lane change and turn us around.

“Surprisingly, Bryce.” I watched as my friend’s brows all raised. They couldn’t believe it either.

I was silent as Zach drove the rest of the way and parked across the street from the coffee shop. I scanned the building quickly, searching for any sign of him. I spotted him in the window, at our table, just like Bryce had said. Monet’s had become licensed a couple of years back, so they could serve alcohol. Monty was sitting alone, in his black suit, nursing what appeared to be a tall bourbon, neat.  “Go get him El.” Scott encouraged me. I nodded and checked for traffic before opening the door and stepping out of the car. Damning laws at this point, since the street was clear, I half ran across and yanked open the door. The few patrons and baristas looked up and appeared slightly annoyed at the sudden, rude intrusion, before they took note of my attire. White dress, veil, hair and makeup applied. It became clear that I was here on a mission and it wasn’t only coffee or a quick shot of liquid courage. Picking up my dress slightly so I didn’t trip on the stairs, I walked over to his table. “Is this seat taken?” I asked, softly.

He looked up at me, his eyes widening in surprise and full of unspoken questions.

“I couldn’t do it if you weren’t there. You’re my best friend Monty.”

He scoffed quietly before replying, “it’s not taken, no. Sit if you want,” and taking another drink from his glass, not looking at me.

“Hey,” I started, reaching for his hand. He looked at my hand and after a pause let me take it, “I mean it. I couldn’t marry him.”

“Why not?”

I was quiet while I thought over how to explain my feelings. Noticing he had about fingers width of bourbon left in his glass, I grabbed it, downing the rest of it.

“Hey. I was drinking that.” He protested. That was all the courage I needed.

“I couldn’t marry Evan because he wasn’t you. And you weren’t there to say anything by the time I walked down the aisle. You were just going to give me away and live the rest of our lives wondering what if.” I told him while I stared into the bottom of the now empty glass, too afraid to look him in the eye.

“You- really? How did you know…?”

“Zach told me.”

“I know I wasn’t there Ellie. I just. I couldn’t sit there in that church and watch you marry him. And I knew I was and would be too much of a coward to stand up and say something when I saw you standing up there with him. I had to let you be happy.”

“Don’t you get it Montgomery? I wouldn’t have been happy. Not really. Or at least not for long. Not with Evan.”

“So why did you agree to marry him?”

“Because I thought it would be easier? My friends liked him, my family liked him, I liked him. I just thought that it would be easier to ignore my feelings. I could marry him, officially move to Atlanta, come home a couple of times a year, have a couple of kids. It all seemed easier than admitting to myself that I was in love with my best friend and if I really, truly wanted to be happy, I would need to be with him instead. And that admitting that would change everything. But I’ve learned over the past year that easy doesn’t always mean happy. And sometimes what we think is easy in the short term, isn’t always easy in the long term.”

He chuckled lowly, “took you long enough.”

I furrowed my brow at him, “what is that supposed to mean? I just confessed my love for you, and that’s all you have to say?”

“Yeah. It took you long enough to come to that conclusion. You were what? Half-way through the ceremony before you put a stop to it?”

“Not exactly. I knew a while ago. I spent the whole morning shaking and waiting for you to come and tell me that I was making a mistake. When you didn’t come, I thought… that you either didn’t feel the same way, or that you were going to do the kind thing for once and not say anything, but I thought at least you would be there. When I saw that you weren’t, I knew I couldn’t marry him. Even if it was the easy choice.” When he didn’t say anything I added, “you picked a great time to do the kind thing.”

“Yeah, well. You knew it would happen sometime. You owe me another shot by the way.”

“Oh please. There was barely a fingers width in your glass.” I told him, sighing dramatically.

He looked at me through his impossibly long eyelashes, “they won’t serve you that small an amount.” I rolled my eyes and stood up to go order him another shot. You owe me another shot… men. I was surprised when he grabbed my wrist to stop me, before pulling me into his lap, rather gracefully given the fit of my dress, and kissing me deeply. Monty pulled away first and turned to look out the window. Our friends had gotten out of the car and were clapping and high fiving each other. 

“How about that shot now?” Monty smirked.

[minervacasterly]

~QUEEN ELIZABETH'S FINAL YEARS~

"Towards the end of Elizabeth I’s reign, her face and body ravaged by time, sickness and toxic cosmetics, she was obliged to undergo an increasingly elaborate ritual to preserve the so-called ‘mask of youth’. When she emerged, triumphant, in front of the public court, she was Gloriana once more, bedecked in dazzling gowns, bejewelled wigs and thick layers of white make-up, and could just about fool her adoring subjects that she was still the most desirable woman in Europe. A visitor to her court in 1599 was amazed to see the queen, now well into her sixties, looking ‘very youthful still in appearance, seeming no more than twenty years of age.’

Only in the privacy of her ‘secret lodgings’ at court was Elizabeth’s true self revealed to the handful of trusted ladies who were permitted to attend her.

... the queen was not willing to relinquish the battle for sexual supremacy quite yet. She appeared at court bedecked in increasingly lavish and brightly coloured gowns, but ordered her ladies to wear only black or white. Not all of them were prepared to acquiesce. Lady Mary Howard was one of the most audacious and disrespectful members of the queen’s entourage. One day she appeared at court dressed in an ostentatious gown made from a rich velvet and ‘powdered with gold and pearl’. An associate of Sir John Harington recalled the envious looks that were cast her way, not least from the queen, who realised the gown ‘exceeded her own’. Intent upon revenge, a few days later the queen ordered a servant to steal the dress from Lady Mary’s chamber and bring it to her. Elizabeth was considerably taller than Lady Mary, so the gown was far too short for her. Undeterred, she paraded in it before her ladies, demanding to know ‘How they liked her new-fancied suit?’ When nobody answered, the queen addressed the question to Lady Mary herself, who resentfully snapped that it was ‘too short and ill becoming’. ‘Why then,’ Elizabeth retorted, ‘if it become not me, as being too short, I am minded it shall never become thee, as being too fine; so it fitteth neither well.’

... In the later years of Elizabeth’s reign, her ladies were obliged to spend ever more time applying her makeup and other adornments in order to conceal the marks of age. Although the queen had originally worn wigs that matched her own colouring, these now concealed a head of thinning, grey hair. There is some evidence to suggest that her hair might have started to turn grey when she was still young. A lock of greying red hair preserved at Wilton House is reputed to have been given by Elizabeth to Philip Sidney in 1572, when she was thirty-nine, although another source dates the gift to 1582. Certainly, by 1596, when Elizabeth was in her mid-fifties, her famous copper tresses had faded to grey

...increasingly thick layers of makeup were applied to maintain the so-called ‘mask of youth’, as well as to keep up with Italian fashions. Educated as a humanist princess, Elizabeth had always embraced Italian ideals and influences, and it had not taken long for the fresh-faced beauty that typified her early reign to be replaced by the highly painted visage favoured by Italian ladies. As ever, the fashions at court had been quickly replicated by those lower down the social scale. It was ‘a rare face if it be not painted’, according to a satirical broadside of the period, which poked fun at the lengths that the women of London would go to in their quest for everlasting beauty:

Waters she hath to make her face to shine,

Confections, eke, to clarify her skin;

Lip salve and cloths of a rich scarlet dye . . .

Ointment, wherewith she sprinkles o’er her face,

And lustrifies her beauty’s dying grace . . .

Storax and spikenard, she burns in her chamber,

And daubs herself with civet, musk, and amber.

The queen tried to keep her forehead wrinkle-free by having it regularly pasted with curd skimmed off posset, a creamy drink made from milk mixed with sugar, wine or ale. She also used a cleansing lotion made from two newly laid eggs and their shells, burnt alum, powdered sugar, borax and poppy seeds ground with water. It was believed to whiten, smooth and soften the skin. Once Elizabeth’s skin had been cleansed and treated, her entire face, neck and hands were painted with ceruse (a mixture of white lead and vinegar) in order to achieve the palest possible complexion. This was the ideal for well-born ladies because it proved that they lived a life of genteel leisure, as opposed to the women whose skin was coloured by the sun from many hours of working outdoors. To create a dramatic contrast to her pale skin, Elizabeth’s lips and cheeks were coloured with a red paste made from beeswax, cochineal and plant dye, and her eyes were lined with kohl. Although they helped to conceal the ravages of time, some of these concoctions were so toxic that they did more damage to the skin than ageing ever could.

...In the queen’s favour was the fact she remained in good health, despite the occasional bout of illness – such as during de Maisse’s visit in 1597, when she claimed to have been ‘very ill with a gathering on the right side of her face’. She assured the ambassador that ‘she did not remember ever to have been so ill before’. He suspected that this was merely an excuse for not seeing him earlier, however, and observed: ‘I should never have thought [it] seeing her eyes and face.’ De Maisse was right to be suspicious. Even now, in what was considered old age, Elizabeth was physically agile and still had some of the restless energy that had characterised her youth. A visiting ambassador from Württemberg in March 1595 was amazed that during one of his audiences with the queen, ‘She stood for longer than a full hour by the clock conversing with me, which is astonishing for a Queen of such eminence and of such great age.’ In 1599, when she was in her mid-sixties, Elizabeth surprised the Spanish ambassador with her sprightliness at the dance. ‘The head of the Church of England and Ireland was to be seen in her old age dancing three or four galliards,’ he reported. The galliard was a particularly energetic dance, requiring frequent leaps, jumps and hops, so it was impressive that Elizabeth could carry it off with such aplomb. She was still performing it in 1602, at the age of almost seventy, when she honoured the Duke of Nevers by dancing it twice with him. That same year, another foreign visitor saw the queen walking in her garden at Oatlands and was astonished by her agility. ‘Her Royal Majesty passed us several times,’ he recalled, ‘walking as freely as if she had been only eighteen years old.’ For all her physical agility, there are hints that Elizabeth had started to lose her formidable mental capacity. Like her father, she became increasingly paranoid as age and infirmity overtook her. Even though it had been easily defeated by the royal forces, the Earl of Essex’s rebellion in 1601 had seriously destabilised her and more than ever she sought sanctuary in her private apartments. ‘These troubles waste her much,’ reported Sir John Harington. ‘Every new message from the city doth disturb her . . . the many evil plots and designs have overcome all her Highness’ sweet temper.’

Although weakened by stress and lack of food, the restless energy that the queen had displayed throughout her life still remained. Harington described how she ‘walked fastly to and fro’ when in a fury against Essex, and reported: ‘She walks much in her privy chamber, and stamps with her feet at ill news, and thrusts her rusty sword at times into the arras in great rage . . . the dangers are over, and yet she always keeps a sword by her table.’

Another (perhaps more truthful) account describes the ageing monarch as ‘very feeble and tottering on account of her illness,’ but the author admits that she was nevertheless ‘adorned and bedecked right royally’.

'The court was very much neglected, and in effect the people were generally weary of an old woman’s government,’ reported another courtier. In ever greater numbers, her subjects flocked north to James VI, King of Scotland, anxious to ingratiate themselves with the queen’s likely successor. As Camden noted: ‘They adored him as the sun rising, and neglected her as now ready to set.’ Elizabeth was well aware of this and was tormented that ‘the question of the succession every day rudely sounded in their ears’.

The loss of her subjects’ love hastened Elizabeth’s decline..."

AT DEATH's DOOR

In January 1603, the queen left the court in Whitehall on the advice of her trusted old astrologer John Dee, and moved to her favourite palace of Richmond, to which she could ‘best trust her sickly old age’.

... As the days passed, she continued to slip into a steady decline. Ever mistress of her fate, the queen refused to lie down in her bed or to take any food for three days and nights, instead ‘holding her finger almost continually in her mouth, with her eyes open and fixed upon the ground, where she sat on cushions without rising or resting herself, and was greatly emaciated by her long watching and fasting.’ She angrily dismissed the ministrations of her physicians, and those around her began to suspect that she had simply decided to die. ‘The Queen grew worse, because she would be so, none about her being able to persuade her to go to bed,’ recalled an exasperated Sir Robert Carey. ‘It seems she might have lived if she would have used means,’ another visitor concurred, ‘but she would not be persuaded, and princes must not be forced.’

... In her grief, Elizabeth sought even greater privacy: ‘The Queen for many days has not left her chamber . . . they say that the reason for this is her sorrow for the death of the Countess,’ observed Scaramelli.

Racked by sorrow and weakened by lack of food and sleep, the queen presented a sorrowful sight to the few courtiers who were permitted to visit her. Among them was the Countess of Nottingham’s widower, Charles Howard, the Lord High Admiral. Perhaps softened by pity, Elizabeth heeded his entreaties that she must retire to her bed. As soon as she did so, her life slipped rapidly away. The corridors of the palace echoed with ‘great weeping and lamentation’ as the queen’s ladies ‘passed to and fro, and perceived there was no hope that Her Majesty should escape.’

Shortly after taking to her bed, Elizabeth was seized by a ‘defluxion in the throat’, which left her unable to speak and ‘like a dead person’. The glands of her neck were enlarged and her breathing became laboured. Modern medical analysis suggests that she was suffering from bronchopneumonia, which, in a weakened or aged person, is rapidly followed by pneumonia and often proves fatal. Four days later, Scaramelli reported: ‘Her Majesty’s life is absolutely despaired of, even if she be not already dead.’

On 23 March, however, Elizabeth suddenly rallied. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she exhorted her ministers to care for the peace of the realm.

When the Lord High Admiral asked her if the King of Scots should be her heir, she lifted her thin, wasted hand up to her head and slowly drew a circle around it to indicate a crown. That evening, everyone but the queen’s ladies departed. They watched over her as she drifted between waking and sleeping. Between two and three o’clock the following morning, their royal mistress breathed her last, slipping from life ‘easily like a ripe apple from the tree’."

-The Private Lives of the Tudors by Tracy Bormam

[darthspideys]

clean --- chapter one

chapter one - in the restaurant that Downey recommended  

summary: Tom calls you and somehow convinces you to tell him everything 

a/n: is this a 1400 word excuse for me to write a ton of dialogue and exposition? yeah pretty much

                                                     ------

He only waited two days to text you, and he’d wanted to wait less than that. You on the other had weren’t even sure if he’d thought about texting you because he was a huge movie star and you are you. But when an unknown number flashed up on your screen you let out a small gasp at your desk. 

Unknown Number: Hi. It’s Tom. 

Unknown Number: Holland. 

Unknown Number: I wanted to know if you wanted to maybe get lunch. 

(Y/N): hmmm let me think about it

(Y/N): yeah sure. 

(Y/N): I’m free in an hour, does that work? 

Unknown Number: yeah that sounds great

(Y/N): let me know where 

Tom freaking Holland: okay

An hour later you sat across from Tom Holland at a very nice restaurant in Downtown Atlanta. You peered through the menu absent mindedly, wondering what to say and what you were even doing there. “This place is really nice.” You said suddenly, not knowing what else to say. 

“Yeah, Downey recommended it.” 

“Oh my god.” You laughed, burying your head in your hands for a second. 

“What?” He asked, a confused look on his face. 

“The way you said that, you say that so casually like you didn’t ask me to come to a place that was recommended by Robert Downey Jr. Like that’s-that’s crazy.” She leaned back into her chair, “Does explain why it’s so nice though.” 

The next thing you knew he was smiling at you. “That was a rollercoaster. I thought you were mad at me, and then-” 

“A rollercoaster? Can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before.” 

“I mean in a good way.” He said, “In the best way possible.” 

“Uh-huh.” A pause, “So I’d ask you about yourself but I think I already know kind of everything.” 

“That’s a little creepy.” 

“I mean there are people who know more than me, of course but like I know the basic stuff you would want to know, what you do, why you like it, what your up to, how many brothers and sisters you have-perks of being a celebrity I guess.” You shrugged, “You get to skip all the small talk.” 

“Correction: I get to skip the small talk.” He narrowed his eyes at you, “I still need to know all of that about you.” 

“Darn it. And here I was thinking I’d successfully tricked you with all the disturbing personal information I know about you.” 

“Not today.” He said as the waitress came over and dropped of your drinks and took your order. “I know what you do, and what your working on but lets-get-personal.” 

“Oh yes let’s dive right into the part of all this that I dislike the most.” 

“We all have to do things we dislike. Why do you want to do your job-go?” 

“I like to take photos.” You leaned back into your chair and crossed her arms over her chest. He raised an eyebrow at you teasingly. “Okay fine. It’s kind of a long story.” 

“That’s what we’re here for.” He replied. 

“I started off at film school.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“I had this dream of being a director, and my parents were less than thrilled but they let me go. Then a year in I realized that I wasn’t as good as everyone else and when the other people in your class-mainly the boys find out that you want to be anything more than a sound designer, well anyways I kinda dropped out.” 

“You dropping out?” He feigned surprise, “Wow I can’t believe-” 

“Shut up!” You laughed, a little louder than you meant to. “You don’t know me.”

“Well I want to.” 

“Fine, fine.” You continued with the story, “The last class I took before I dropped out- and it was you guessed it cinematography.” 

“Now the pieces are coming together.” 

“So I took a gap year and I went to Europe.” 

“The plot thickens.” 

“And I saw some things that made me think wow this would look great in a movie but I had just quit film school and I didn’t have a crew or anything. So I took some pictures, like a lot. Like I had to buy extra phone storage.” You remember standing in the middle of a field, enamored by all the beauty before you and just snapping a few photos of the whole thing. 

“That’s where those came from.” 

“You looked me up?” You asked him, surprised that he cared that much about you after only one meeting. 

“Uh, just a little. I wanted to see some of your photos.” He replied. 

“Well that’s creepy, let’s change the subject to that. What makes you think that internet stalking is okay Mr Holland?” You asked. 

“Back up, you didn’t finish the story.” 

“Fine fine but we will get back to the searching and the stalking. Anyways I took the pictures and I sold them, and they kinda went viral and I decided to do this photography thing full time. After I went back to school to make my parents happy. Major in Journalism minor in photography which I shouldn't have done cause it sucks.” You explained, “Journalism majors are mean, not as mean as guys in film school but still.” 

“You say this as a journalism student.”

“Oh I’m not saying I’m not mean. I can be if needed, we’re also notorious gossips, early work experience I guess.” You realized that you had been talking for a long time and suddenly felt very self conscious. “I got off on a tangent there-that’s what happens when you ask me a question.” 

“What you tell amazing stories? I won’t ask you anymore questions then, wouldn’t want to hear any cool stories about your almost life as a feature film director.” He said, smiling. 

“Flattery will you get you nowhere with me.”

“Noted.”

“I’m kidding! Compliment me all you want.” The food was brought to the table and the two of you started to eat. You pretend to write something down in a notebook, “Extremely gullible.” You teased trying to emulate his accent, “Noted.” 

“If I knew you were going to do was tease me I wouldn't have invited you.” 

“Well I’m here now which means you are pretty unlucky.”

He smiled and you swore his eyes sparkled. “I’m actually pretty lucky.” 

You looked down at the table and ate some of your mood for a moment, letting the feeling pass. “So now that I’ve spilled about my directing pipe dreams, tell me did you always know that you wanted to be an actor?” 

“Oh no way. I wanted to be a firefighter when I was ten, but soon after that I realized my true calling.” 

“Wow-I hate you.”

“What?”

“I’m serious your like everything that I hated when I started film school, so sure of yourself and what you want to do its terrible.” She paused, “Because I want that.” 

“Well don’t you have it now?”

“Nah.” You took another bite of your food, “I’m happy but it still feel like something is missing.” 

“Maybe it has nothing to do with your job.”

Before you could ask what he meant, you saw someone take a photo of the two of you out of the corner of your eye. You moved your head so you couldn't be seen and leaned into Tom, “I think we’ve been spotted.” 

“Shoot.” He stood up, leaving money on the table. “Let’s get out of here.” He put on a pair of sunglasses, like that could stop anyone from noticing him, and the two of you slipped out of the restaurant and onto the street. “Sorry-that happens.” He sighed, not quite knowing where the situation was going next. 

“Not everyday you get to pull a James Bond trying to escape from lunch.” You told him, “But speaking of which-” You turned so that you were facing him again, “-what are we doing here?” 

“Right here? Well I mean we could go-”

“No-I mean, why did you invite me for lunch?”

“Because I wanted to get to know you better.” 

“There’s got to be more to it than that.” 

“What if there’s not?” He said but his eyes said, What if there is? “I think your journalism instincts are kicking in. You don’t have to deep dive on everything, (Y/N).” 

“Fine, fine. Do your friends know your here?”

“No.”

“Castmates?”

“No.” 

“Family members?”

“No.” 

You nodded, “Okay.” 

“Does that tell you what your doing here?” 

“Not really but it tells me what we can do.” You replied. 

“Which is?” He asked, with a smile. 

“Anything.”

[scrapyardboyfriends]

Coffee Mates AO3 LINK

(6k+ words of self indulgent pre affair era fic where Aaron accepts that offered coffee and they take a slightly different route to their first kiss...brought to you by my rewatch feelings)

---

“So...mates?” Robert held out the coffee hoping Aaron would take the bait. 

He watched Aaron stare at the cup for a moment, considering, as he tapped the end of his pen against the clipboard in his other hand. Robert didn’t know why he cared so much whether he had Aaron were on good terms. For some reason, he just hated the thought of him being mad at him, judging him. He didn’t know when Aaron’s opinion of him started to matter. 

One last tap of the pen and Aaron turned to set the clipboard down in the office. “I’ll think about it,” he said and that wasn’t a no. “Will take that coffee though,” he added, reaching out and taking the proffered cup in his hand. 

Robert smiled, couldn’t help himself apparently. It wasn’t his usual smile and something in his stomach wouldn’t stop fluttering as Aaron took a sip of his coffee and Robert watched the liquid work down his throat as he swallowed. He gulped, not the coffee. 

“What is this?” Aaron asked as he made a face at it, leaning against the car parked in the garage for service. 

“Americano,” Robert told him as he awkwardly leaned against the car next to him. He’d never felt so out of sorts. He didn’t like it but he couldn’t leave either. 

“That what you drink?” Aaron pointed are his cup with the jut of his chin. Robert nodded. “More of a tea man myself. Or a latte I suppose.”

“A latte,” Robert found himself smiling again, laughing a bit. 

“Shut it,” Aaron snapped but it was playful and it eased something in his chest. He’d never really had a mate before. 

Though now that the coffee talk was done, he wasn’t sure where to take the conversation. “So uhh...worked here long?”

Aaron looked at him strangely, like this wasn’t the kind of mates they were and Robert cast his eyes down to where he fiddled with the heat guard on the to go cup. 

“At the garage? Not long this time I suppose but I uhh...worked here before I went to France,” Aaron mumbled out the answer like he was unsure, biting at his lip in a way that Robert found fascinating. 

“France,” Robert said aloud, filing away the information when Aaron looked uncomfortable about it. “I used to work here, you know.”

Aaron visibly relaxed with the change of subject, a smirk playing on his lips. “You? Didn’t think you’d want to get your hands dirty.”

“Oi! I reckon I was a better mechanic than you,” he argued, knowing it probably wasn’t true.

“Was, being the operative word, mate,” Aaron laughed. 

“Bet I still could,” he pushed further, hoping Aaron wouldn’t ask him to prove it. 

“So if we turned around and I asked you what was wrong with this car, you’d be able to tell me, yeah?” Aaron challenged him. 

Robert’s face fell slightly. Of course he would make him prove it. Maybe it wouldn’t be that hard though. Maybe it was an easy problem to fix. He started to turn but all of a sudden Aaron was laughing again and he had a hand on Robert’s shoulder. The touch sparked something inside of him, the same as it had when Aaron had thrown him up against that wall. It made him itch a bit, especially in full view of the village but he didn’t want him to take his hand away. 

“Robert stop,” Aaron laughed. It was an amazing sound to come out of such a usually grumpy person. “I’m not gonna test ya.” 

“I could have-“ he said uselessly

“Sure,” Aaron shook his head. 

Robert settled back against the car and if he stood a little closer to Aaron, neither of them commented on it. “So...tell me about this car you’re going to find for me.”

—-

With an arm full of paperwork, Robert passed by the garage as he headed toward the pub to meet Andy. Only he saw Cain leaving on his break and Aaron watching him go with a frown. He preferred Aaron smiling. The thought had come out of nowhere. He shook his head at it but still turned in his tracks and headed toward the cafe for a brief stop. 

—-

Aaron sighed at all of the work Cain had left for him, thankful at least that he had the next day off. He could use it. He felt knackered having been up half the night looking for cars for Robert. He had a pretty good idea of what he was looking for after their chat yesterday, their surprisingly normal chat. After all the fake burglary and confrontations in the pub toilets, he wasn’t sure Robert was capable of it but it had been nice. He’d enjoyed himself when Robert wasn’t playing the arrogant and entitled lord of the manner. That was unexpected. 

“Coffee?” 

Aaron turned around to find Robert there again, two coffees in his hand and a sheepish smile on his face that almost didn’t seem right.

“Two days in a row?” Aaron couldn’t help himself but grin as he took the cup. “People might start talking.”

He watched Robert twitch at that and made a note of it. This wasn’t the first time he thought something was up but it was the most glaring. Of course the way his mum and Katie went on about him, it didn’t seem possible. 

“Thanks,” he said, trying to ease the situation. If he was right, he didn’t want to spook Robert further. He took a sip of his coffee. “Mmm a latte.”

“Well you did say-“

Aaron smiled at the fact that Robert had actually paid attention to him yesterday. Still, he could tell he was nervous all of a sudden, shifting from foot to foot in front of him. It was strange seeing Robert with some of his confidence stripped away. These were the times he felt like he was seeing the real him, like the hurt in his voice when he’d talked about his mother’s memorial getting ruined. And he hadn’t been wrong apparently. It had been a fake heart attack. Most of the sympathy he’d had for the Lawrence of Edna’s stories had slipped away after that. 

“So what’s all that for?” Aaron asks, pointing at the thick folder under his arm, and trying to steer the conversation toward something new. 

“Oh,” Robert said, adjusting himself, standing up a bit straighter. “Contracts for Andy to sign for Wiley’s Farm.”

“Oh yeah, heard Katie talking to me mum at the bar about that. Didn’t sound happy.”

“Well they wanted the place practically for free,” Robert argued. 

“He is your brother,” Aaron pointed out, knowing full well there was always something brewing between those two. It seemed like Vic had been a wreck about it since Robert had blown back into the village. 

“And they’ll get a fair price,” Robert said matter of factly, looking Aaron over like he was trying to read him. It wasn’t the same kind of appraising look that he’d cautiously given him yesterday when he thought Aaron wasn’t looking. This one looked defensive. “I earned everything I’ve got.”

Ah, so there it was. “Didn’t day you hadn’t” Aaron assured him. 

“Right,” Robert nodded, seeming at least mildly satisfied. “I should go anyway.”

“Yeah,” Aaron shrugged but added “I’ll see you around, yeah?” Because for some reason he had decided that he wanted to try and be friends with Robert Sugden. 

—-

After a long day, all he wanted was to slob out on the sofa in front of the Telly and crack open a beer or something. He didn’t count on being confronted with a Sugden family meal upon entering the back room. 

“Oh sorry, didn’t realize anyone was in here,” he said, pausing in the doorway. 

The situation looked tense and he could sense the hostility radiating between Robert and Andy across the table. He wasn’t sure he wanted to intrude. Intending to go, he started back out the door but Diane’s voice halted him. 

“Oh that’s alright,” she called out to him. “There’s plenty here if you’d like a plate.”

He watched Robert shift uncomfortably at that, the idea of him being there and that kind of made him want to push things. Just a bit further to prove a point. 

“I’m sure he wouldn’t want to intrude,” Robert said, and Aaron could almost feel the nerves coming off of him in waves. “This being a family meal and all.”

“Spot of home cooking would be great actually,” Aaron said before he could stop himself, pushing into the room and heading for the kitchen. 

He glanced back at Robert, taking in the rigid set of his shoulders and could see him panicking. Like a magnet, Robert’s eyes were drawn to his but quickly, he looked away again, back down at the table, flexing his fingers over his plate. 

“It’s a nice thought, Diane,” he sighed, “but it’s not really working is it.”

With that, he got up from the table and stalked out of the room, leaving Aaron with little doubt. He just wasn’t sure how to play it from here. Robert was engaged after all. 

—-

Robert sat in his car, idling. He should just go home but something was stopping him. His leg twitched and his stomach wouldn’t settle and he didn’t think it was Vic’s cooking. His sister wasn’t half bad as a chef. It was Aaron. Him just coming into the back room like that like he- well he did live there but still. He made him feel uneasy and he knew why, he just didn’t want to think about it. Too close to home, he reminded himself, the same thought he’d had when he found out Aaron was gay. So why couldn’t he stay away?

A tap on his window made him jump and he looked up to find Aaron standing there with a coffee in each hand. Something unraveled in his gut and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. 

“What are these in aid of?” He asked as he rolled the window down. 

“Just thought you could uhh... use a mate,” Aaron said and Robert could tell he was nervous, which somehow put him more at ease. 

“Oh are we mates now then?” He asked, getting out of the car despite the rain that misted down on them. He was scrabbling for control and the banter seemed to provide it. 

“If you’d like,” Aaron shrugged, playing along. 

“Knew I’d wear you down eventually,” Robert said as he leaned against his car, aiming for casual. 

“If you say so,” Aaron said, his tone nonchalant but the ghost of a smile on his lips betrayed him, taking up his spot, leaning beside him. 

—-

So they were mates now, enough so that when Chrissie kicked off at Leyla’s flirtatious behavior while measuring him for his suit, he texted Aaron, having exchanged numbers last night as they drank their coffees in companionable silence, deftly avoiding the subject of his train wreck of a family dinner. He had been glad about that, not wanting to try and defend his position against Andy again. All Aaron had said about it was that he’d always wanted a brother until he met them and he’d said it in a way that made Robert believe he might be on his side and that pleased him more than it should have. 

“If you keep believing the worst in people, that’s exactly what you’re going to get,” Robert had told Chrissie on his way out. 

She’d been wrong. He didn’t have any interest in Leyla, even if he was always up for a bit of flirty banter. He’d been thinking about Aaron but he was trying his hardest not to and Chrissie’s attitude made that impossible. She’d been trying to catch him out since they moved here and he was getting a bit tired of it. Not that he didn’t have form in the past. He frowned at the thought, thinking of Rebecca, of the one night stands, but he’d been trying to turn over a new leaf since they got engaged and she was making that difficult. 

Aaron met him at the cafe, coffees already on the table waiting when he arrived, sliding onto the sofa next to him rather than across, which he should have done but he was feeling bold. He took a sip of his Americano, from a mug this time instead of a to go cup, letting the caffeine revive him and then leaned his head back against the sofa, sighing. 

“Rough day?” Aaron asked, a light amusement in his voice. 

“Chrissie’s doing my head in,” Robert replied. 

“Oh,” Aaron hummed and Robert couldn’t tell if it was disappointment he heard in his voice or hopefulness. He wasn’t sure which he’d rather. 

“Don’t really want to talk about it,” Robert set it aside. He’d rather not talk about Chrissie with Aaron. Something about that just made him feel weird. “How’s your day been?”

“You really want to know?” Aaron asked, sounding surprised. 

“Well we are mates now, aren’t we?” He hated that he was having to double check. He wasn’t used to this whole maintaining a friendship thing. It wasn’t as like a business deal as he would have liked. 

“Yeah,” Aaron smiled and then frowned, which made Robert nervous again. “Was smiling this morning and Mum asked if there was something wrong with my face.”

“Well you are usually a rather grumpy git,” Robert teased. 

“Oh cause you’re a ray of sunshine at all times,” Aaron scoffed, nudging at Robert with his shoulder. 

Again, the touch made his brain short circuit for a moment, which was pathetic. He found himself glancing around to make sure no one saw, hiding his uneasiness in another sip of his coffee. They were mates, he reminded himself, no one was going to think anything of it. 

“So did you see that new top gear episode?” He asked dumbly. Aaron had mentioned he liked the show when they had been talking cars that first day. 

Aaron’s eyes brightened. “Yeah, was a good one. You actually watched it?”

“Thought I’d see what all the fuss was about,” he replied. He’d enjoyed it more than he thought he would but then he’d always been into cars. 

Aaron grinned at him and launched into a full account of his favorite parts of the episode and Robert couldn’t help but listen intently, which was strange because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d given anyone his full attention like this. Then again, Aaron always seemed to have that effect on him. 

“We should have an actual drink,” Aaron said eventually after he’d given him a full recommendation of other episodes and shows he should check out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after slurping up the dregs of his coffee. It was disgusting but Robert didn’t seem to mind. 

He faltered at the question though. Were they ‘have a pint after work kind of friends’? He’d barely gotten used to the coffee dates...not dates. “Yeah,” he stammered before he could stop himself. 

“Woolpack later?” Aaron suggested. 

“Oh,” Robert was sort of hoping they might get out of the village. Less prying eyes. But they were mates. What did it matter? 

Only Andy and Katie chose that exact moment to wander into the cafe and he froze, wondering how it looked with him sitting so close to Aaron on the sofa. He shifted away as they caught sight of them, Katie frowning immediately. Andy didn’t look like he’d softened toward him at all since their dinner either. It served him right for taking Lawrence’s handouts while the old git was trying to stitch him up. He was only trying to make an actual profit now. It was just good business and he was good at his job. 

“Don’t think Chas would appreciate the company you’re keeping Aaron,” Katie sneered. 

Well luckily she had a one track mind but Andy was looking at them strangely. 

“Luckily, I’m capable of picking my own mates,” Aaron snapped back. 

He couldn’t even revel in that because Andy had to go and say, “Didn’t realize you two had gotten so close.”

Robert squirmed at the wording, heart rate increasing. He felt all the coffee in his stomach sloshing around. “I uhh...I have to get going anyway. Meeting.”

He didn’t have a meeting. He just had to get out from under Andy and Katie’s scrutiny. Wouldn’t want to give his brother this one opportunity to get a clue. 

“And about that drink?” Aaron asked as he got up. 

Andy and Katie were still watching but if he said no then Katie would probably accuse him of being a bad mate already. So he said, “Yeah, I’ll see you later.” And then he all but ran out of there, a text from Aaron buzzing on his phone telling him he’d see him at seven. 

—-

“Look you have every right to be mad at me, I’m mad at myself,” Chrissie said immediately upon him entering the house. 

She went on about getting jealous and weird and that she hated being like that he just stood there feeling lost and thrown and shaken from Andy and Katie interrupting him and Aaron. He mumbled something about her needing to start trusting him more and then suddenly she was kissing him like everything was alright and for a split second, he wondered what it would be like to be kissing Aaron. He’d thought about it before, fleetingly but he’d always pushes it away and it had never been when he was with Chrissie. 

“Not so fast,” he told her as she started walking away, argument resolved. 

“What are you doing?” she laughed as he pulled her back and kissed her again, making it count this time, ignoring the fact that her laughter didn’t give him the same buzz of happiness that Aaron’s did. 

This, Chrissie, was all he needed. He and Aaron were mates and that was it. A friend in the village would do him good, he thought and then turned his mind off and focused on getting Chrissie out of her blouse and onto the sofa. 

They lay there afterwards, her stroking his bare chest as Robert tried to get comfortable on such a miserable piece of furniture. He wished Lawrence hadn’t been so stubborn about keeping all of the old decor. He would have liked a nice comfortable sofa to lounge about on, to have sex on, but no, they were stuck with this thing. Already, he knew he’d be paying for this little extra curricular activity with a back ache later. 

“Well that was unexpected,” Chrissie was saying and he guessed it was but it was what he needed. “I should get jealous more often.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Robert forced a smile. 

And then she was telling him she trusted him completely and that she knew him better than anyone and all of a sudden he wasn’t sure because did she? Did she know him better than anyone? Sometimes he felt like she only knew the side of him that he put on show for people, that she couldn’t see what was underneath. He felt like she should have been able to even if he didn’t let that side of him slip out often but she didn’t. Glancing at his watch, he saw the time and knew that he needed to get going if he was going to meet Aaron. He should have probably blown him off, taken Chrissie upstairs to their bed and gone for round too. Surely, Aaron would understand that but he wanted to see him. Because for some reason, he felt like out of anyone in the whole village, Aaron was starting to be the one that saw him the most. 

Pushing himself off the sofa, he grabbed for his shirt, throwing it over his head. “Sorry,” he told her, “I just remembered. I said I’d meet Aaron for a drink.” 

“Aaron? From the garage?” Chrissie sounded shocked. “I didn’t realize you and he were even-”

“Mates,” Robert supplied for her, wanting to define it again. “Well, you know, after I bought him that drink to thank him for fixing your car we got to talking and he’s got an appreciation for classic cars too.” That was a lie, Aaron preferred whatever was fast and flashy and new, but Chrissie didn’t need to know that. 

“Oh go on, have your boys night out then, but don’t be late back,” she winked at him and he felt queasy all of a sudden. 

---

If Aaron spent a little too much time fixing his hair and putting on a bit of aftershave before going downstairs and into the pub to meet Robert, he didn’t dwell on it. They’re mates and Robert was straight and engaged to a woman, he reminded himself. Even if Robert’s gaze did linger on him a little too long sometimes, even if he seemed to jolt every time someone implied even the slightest bit going on between them, even if he smiled at him in a way he’d never seen him smile at anyone else. He shook his head and headed into the pub, suddenly accosted by every rainbow decoration in the whole of Yorkshire strewn across the place. 

“Gay night!” Vic said brightly as she passed him with a plate of food. “You wish.” 

He panicked a little, wondering what Robert would make of all of this when he came to meet him. If his suspicions were at all correct, he worried this might scare him off. He could head him off and they could go somewhere else but he kind of wanted to see how he would react. So he shrugged at Vic and grabbed himself a pint, settling in at the bar to wait. 

Cain was settled into the testosterone booth in the corner with David, looking miserable. “Thought your mum would set this up for ya, get ya fixed up,” he told him with a wry smile. 

It was clearly Ali and Ruby’s hen night he assured himself as he looked around, though he wouldn’t put it past his mum. “Don’t need fixing up. Besides, I’m meeting someone.” 

“Oh?” Vic asked as she rounded the bar again. “Who?” 

“Just your brother,” he said, trying to sound casual about it. 

“Andy?” 

“No, Robert,” Aaron told her.

“Didn’t realize you two were mates? Missing Adam that much are ya?” she laughed. 

“Nah, he’s alright,” Aaron said and he meant it, though it still surprised him. 

“And there he is,” Vic pointed out as a shell shocked looking Robert came in, dodging a falling rainbow banner, swatting at it with his arms until it left him alone. 

Aaron could see the panic in his eyes, panic he knew well, that feeling that somehow everyone was just going to know. He’d wanted to test him a bit but now he just sort of felt sorry for him, wanted to put him at ease so he called him over and ordered him a pint off Alicia. Robert sat down cautiously beside him, gulping as he glanced around, before something inside him reset and he plastered that smug smile of his on his face again.

“What’s up with this place?” he said, a mocking edge to his tone, as he took a deep drink of his beer. 

Aaron was momentarily distracted as he watched him lick the foam off his top lip but he recovered quickly. “Ali and Ruby’s hen night,” he gestured toward the large group of women crowding around the middle tables of the pub. 

“Oh, right,” Robert nodded, seeming to relax a little. 

By the time Ashley showed up in drag to try and win Harriet’s heart, he was fully settled, the two of them laughing along with all the rest at the absurdity of the scene. It was easy, the two of them. And maybe Vic was right and he was trying to fill the void Adam had left in his life when he went to prison but he liked Robert, more than he should. 

---

Robert’s thinking about Aaron, even though he knows he shouldn’t be. Once he’d gotten past the pub looking like a gay unicorn had thrown up all over it, he’d had a really good night with him. And maybe their legs had brushed together under the bar one too many times and maybe he’d used the excuse of laughing too hard at Ashley’s drag act that he’d put a hand on Aaron’s shoulder and leaned on him, but it was fine, that’s what mates did. 

“Gold Digger,” Chrissie said, as a bad song suggestion for their reception, pulling him out of his Aaron thoughts for a moment. 

“Suspicious Minds,” he bantered back as she took a phone call. 

He was walking away, caught up in his distractions again, when he heard it was Aaron she was talking to. He whipped around and tried not to look too interested. Apparently he’d found the car he wasn’t supposed to know about but Chrissie caved and told him anyway. It was the Austin Healey he’d been going on about wanting forever. He’d told Aaron all about it too and he’d assured him he could find him one. 

It was a beautiful car and he had to admit that Aaron looked good sitting in the driver’s seat when they arrived to take a look at it. He’d slid out though and slapped him across the back like mates do as Robert had gotten in, running his fingers over the leather of the steering wheel, ready to take it for a test drive. 

When they got back to the house, Chrissie had wanted to drag Aaron away to discuss the price without him hearing because this was after all, still supposed to be a wedding present. Instead, they’d gotten too caught up talking about all of the specs of the car, arguing playfully over how fast it could go if it weren’t for dodgy country roads and so Chrissie had left them to it, bringing them drinks in the living room. A coffee for him and a cup of tea for Aaron, milk and two sugars, he filed away for later. 

It felt strange having Aaron up at Home Farm, and not in a balaclava playing the part of the thief he knew he wasn’t now. His two worlds were colliding again in a different sort of way but Chrissie took no real notice of it so he tried to just enjoy it. It didn’t escape his notice that Aaron being there somehow made the massive house feel a bit more like home and less a proving ground. He liked that. 

---

On Monday, he had his tea with Vic and Diane in the pub and Aaron joined them halfway through, certainly a better choice than Andy. Although Diane promised him that she wouldn’t stop trying to get them to make peace. Something about a promise to Jack but he tuned her out as soon as she said his dad’s name. He didn’t want to hear it, especially not with Aaron sitting right next to him and the thoughts that were going through his head because he looked good. Snug in his purple hoodie that he’d taken note of before because it seemed to be the only bit of color in his mostly black wardrobe. His hair had a little less product in it, he thought too and hated himself just a bit for noticing. Mostly, he just couldn’t stop staring at the angles of his face in profile or the way his throat worked as he swallowed down his beer. 

Aaron was looking too, he knew. They both looked away every time they were caught out. It was like a little private game, one he was enjoying too much. It got ruined for a moment when Finn came in, staring wistfully at Aaron as he passed by, waving to Vic, before he went to meet his brother, the farmer, not the thief. 

“Still don’t know why you won’t give Finn a shot, Aaron,” Vic slurred. His sister had had too much wine. 

Aaron wrinkled his nose at the thought and Robert scoffed, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy in his gut at the thought of Aaron with anyone else. 

“He’s hardly his type,” Robert blurted out before his brain could catch up to his tongue. 

“Oh and you know his type, do you?” Vic laughed. 

“Maybe he does,” Aaron said boldly, and Robert knew if he turned, he’d catch Aaron eyeing him up again. 

Diane was busy with a customer and Vic was too sloshed to really notice so he risked a glance, finding a pair of bright blue eyes watching his every move, lips parted just slightly like they were waiting for his. All he wanted to do was to drag him off to the toilets and kiss the life out of him.

“What did I miss?” Diane asked as she came back over. 

And the moment was lost. 

---

Robert kicked at the pavement, digging his toe into the loose gravel, as he waited, checking his phone several times to make sure that Aaron had agreed to come and pick him up. His hands were balled up into fists at his sides. All he wanted to do was bash his brother’s face in. First he’d gone and chosen Vic as his best man, which...whatever. It’s not like he ever thought he’d choose him anyway. But Diane had gone and given him his dad’s wedding ring for him and Katie, to melt down and make two rings out of it. He couldn’t believe she had the audacity to do that without even asking him. He was getting married too and no one was offering him family heirlooms. He’d worked so hard to make-

A car drove up, and the window rolled down, Aaron looking him over and taking him in. “Want to go somewhere?” he asked casually. 

“Gun shop?” Robert suggested. 

Aaron shook his head. “Just get in.” 

Robert nodded, rounding the car and climbing into the passenger seat. He leaned back against the headrest and tried to calm himself down but it was no use, he was raging. Even Aaron’s presence wasn’t calming him the way it usually did. 

“Where to?” Aaron asked. 

“Dunno, anywhere,” Robert answered, hoping Aaron would just take the lead. He didn’t have space in his head right now to think about anything other than how much he hated Andy, his whole family, Jack. 

---

Aaron took him to Bar West. He knew he shouldn’t but it did fall under ‘anywhere’ and it was always a safe place for Aaron, aside from that first time. When they walked in, though, Robert paled, glancing around and seeing all the blokes, some holding hands across tables, others kissing in the corner even though it’s the middle of the day. Immediately, he looked like he wanted to bolt. He’d turned halfway toward the door already but Aaron grabbed hold of his arm. 

“Robert, wait,” Aaron tried, pulling him back. 

“Why would you bring me here?” Robert snapped at him, angry and defensive. 

Aaron’s heart broke for him a little, wondered if this is what people felt like when they looked at him fighting it all those years ago. “I just, I like this place and they do serve people who aren’t gay.” 

Shaking him off, Robert pulled his arm back into his side. “Well good, cause I’m not.” 

“Right,” Aaron nodded and steered him toward the bar to get a beer. He figured he could use it. 

They’re quiet for a long time, Robert downing bottle after bottle and looking thoroughly miserable while doing so. He was glad Robert called him but he could hardly help if he didn’t know what the problem was in the first place. It was definitely more than just his clear aversion to gay bars. 

“You want to tell me what happened?” Aaron pushed. 

Robert looked away from him for a minute or two, Aaron chewing on his thumbnail while he waited him out. “Diane gave Andy my dad’s ring. They’re having it melted down for him and Katie,” he explained finally. 

That was probably the last thing Aaron had expected to hear him say. “Well that’s...nice. I suppose.” 

But Robert looked like it was anything but. A twitch of anger contorted his face as he slammed his latest bottle down on the table, making the others jump and then settle with a chorus of clangs. Aaron wracked his brain, remembering the way Robert had pulled away from him immediately when Andy and Katie had shown up in the cafe the other day, the way he’d avoided any and all talk of his dad with Diane at the bar when they’d had their tea. He knew Robert had a lot of baggage when it came to his family but he couldn’t quite put it all together to make sense of it. 

“You wanted the ring,” he put out there. 

“They didn’t even ask me,” Robert told him. “She just gave it away. Andy’s not even his real son.”

“Robert-”

“Don’t alright. I’ve finally-I’ve worked so hard-I’m getting married too, you know,” Robert stumbled over the words, slurring a bit. 

“To a woman,” Aaron ventured, wondering if Jack Sugden had known something. 

“I’m not gay,” Robert sneered at him, looking disgusted at the thought. 

It hurt. Aaron knew he probably didn’t mean it like that, but it still hurt. “Robert it’s okay-”

“No,” Robert said firmly and stood up, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll find my own way home.” 

---

Adam came home the next day and Aaron fell into a comfortable rhythm with his best friend. It was almost like they’d never been apart, separated by France and then prison. They were in the Woolpack, having a few beers, playing darts and he wasn’t thinking about Robert. Well, he was trying not to anyway. After he’d stalked off the day before, he’d decided he’d give him some space perhaps, let him get his head around stuff maybe before he approached him again. Adam was a welcome distraction from all of that. 

The reprieve didn’t last long though because all of a sudden Robert had appeared while he went to pull the darts out of the board for his next turn. He was there, leaning against the bar, talking to Victoria and glaring at him. Well, no, he was glaring at Adam. 

“Who’s that?” he heard him ask his sister. 

“Oh just the love of his life,” Vic sighed dramatically, which he could see was just rubbing salt in an already festering wound. “No, that’s Adam, Moira’s son.” 

Robert nodded, turning back to them and glaring harder, like if he tried hard enough he could make Adam disappear. Shaking his head, he wondered what Robert would make of the fact that he used to have a little crush on Adam, back when he was young and stupid and just sorting out his head. 

Three turns later, he was tired of it, feeling Robert’s eyes boring into the back of his head every time he turned around, tired of seeing his sulking face every time he looked back at him. If he wanted him, he could have him any time. The realization made his skin heat up because he knew it was true. He wasn’t sure when that had happened. He guess Ross hadn’t been wrong when he said he fancied him. He couldn’t seem to help himself. 

Adam punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Where’s your head at, bro?” 

“Nowhere,” Aaron sighed, dragging his eyes away from Robert’s intense gaze. “Get the next round in, yeah? Just gotta nip to the bogs.” 

“Yeah alright,” Adam agreed, heading to make eyes at Vic at the bar. Aaron knew that would keep him busy. 

In the toilets, he leaned against the wall and waited. As expected, Robert followed him in, looking half crazed with jealousy. It shouldn’t have been a turn on but it was. Aaron peeled himself away from the wall and crowded into Robert’s space which only served to make him nervous, backing away like cold water had been doused over him. 

“I don’t get you,” Aaron said. “One minute you’re staring at me like that and then the next you’re running. What are you so scared of?”

“I’m not scared,” Robert argued, but he didn’t sound convincing. 

“Then,” Aaron started, stepping closer again, but Robert took another step back, his back hitting the wall behind him, trapped. “You’re a coward.” 

Aaron hurled the word at him and turned to go. He’d tried the soft approach, but it didn’t seem to work. Issuing a challenge might be the only way to get through to Robert. 

---

‘Coward’.

The word rang in Robert’s ears as he watched Aaron go, his whole body alert and wanting. He wanted Aaron so badly it was killing him at this point and it was clear that Aaron wanted him too. So what was the problem? Everything. He couldn’t. It was one thing to have a one night stand with a random bloke on a business trip he was never going to see again. It was another to go after the local grumpy mechanic on his own doorstep, in the village he grew up in, the village that felt like a fishbowl at the best of times. And he knew, deep down, if he went there, it would never just be a one night stand. 

His feet were taking him out of the door and chasing after Aaron before his mind could stop him. He’d gone out the back and was stomping stubbornly through the village. Robert felt ridiculous running after him but he couldn’t help himself. 

“Will you wait up?” he called after him. 

Aaron rounded on him, eyes narrowed, and spit the words at him. “No Robert. You had your chance and you just blew it.” 

He turned again and continued on and Robert followed, a new determination taking hold. This is what he’d wanted, he knew that, from that first offered coffee. From the first time he saw him in that barn really, his quiet confidence a sharp contrast to Ross running his mouth. He’d wanted him then and he wanted him now, so much so he was traipsing across half the village to get to him. 

Finally, he caught up to him on the bridge, the trees shading them from view, secluded. “Aaron,” he called his name. 

“What?” he grunted as he turned on his heel to face him. “I can’t keep doing this forever. I don’t like being messed around. I mean if you just want to be mates then-”

“I don’t,” Robert blurted, his hands shaking at his sides. “I mean...you know-”

“I know,” Aaron said quietly and reached out toward him. 

It was involuntary but he flinched and all of a sudden Aaron was seeing red again and trying to push past him, his shoulder knocking into him roughly. He was messing this up. He couldn’t let him go again. Hand shooting out, he grabbed hold of Aaron’s arm and twisted him back around to face him and before he could think about the long list of reasons why this was a terrible idea, he lunged at him, hands grabbing at his cheeks, rough stubble scraping against his palms, and pulling him toward him, mashing their lips together in a frenzied kiss. A kiss that took his breath away. A kiss that would no doubt make his life very complicated but a kiss he’d never forget. 

[moshymosh]

Drunken Shenanigans: The Interview

A/N: I decided to split the interview into 2 parts, this whole series will probably be about ten parts. I also turned this into a Soulmate AU, something I decided when writing the first two parts. Please read the Soulmate AU note for further explanation on what its about. Also my request box is open, please send me some.

Soulmate AU: Throughout a person's life they get glimpses of what their soulmate looks and sounds like. You get the full picture when you kiss the person. When you kiss them you also get a flash of your future together with them.

Warnings: None besides fluffiness in this part.

Pairings: Sebastian stan x Podcaster!Reader. Soulmate AU

Teaser | Next part

“Well, hello everyone, listening and to those who are watching the live cast.” Y/N grinned, totally in her element, speaking into the mic. “Well, now hold on everyone, we’ll introduce the guest in a minute.” She said, holding her hands up to try to placate the chat that was on the flatscreen against the wall in front of her knowing there was an identical one behind her for the guests to read.

“As ya’ll know, this is Drunken shenanigans, Where we invite celebs and get them drunk and all around have a good time interviewing them.” She said into the mic, looking at her co-host. “I’m Y/N which ya’ll know, and I’m joined by Richards, who literally seems to be getting older every time we do this.” She laughed.

“Hey, now, I’m older than you, but not that old.” Richards laughed out into the mic.” Well, guys, we know some of our long-time viewers know this warning, but we have to say it every time.Y/N take it away.”

“Thank you! I will.” Y/N grinned looking at the guest star sitting across from her, on the live cast he’s blocked out so people couldn’t tell who it was. “This podcast gets raunchy like really raunchy, so those of you under 18, and I mean if you’re like 17 and a half or like three days from your 18th birthday, you’re not allowed to be here cause ya’ still aint 18. So shoo. Now there will be drinking involved, so fair warning, Richards and I are idiots when were drunk so.” Y/N shrugged, looking at the screen above the guest. “There’s your warning ya’ filthy animals.”

Y/N laughed at a comment, “Yes, someone got the reference.” She threw her hands up and did a happy dance in her chair “I am the queen! Now, let’s introduce our guest, shall we? Wait, before we do, Richards, I know you’re old as shit, so I don’t need to ask this. And I’m sure our guest is drinking age. But this is a little game we play, the guest has to guess my age, and if they get it right, they pick the first drink, if not I get to.”

Richards throws his head back and laughs, “Oh, no. Dude. You’re going to get pissed off when they guess. Remember Evans? He thought you were 30!” His whole body shook with laughter as did the guest’s

Y/N shrugged, “He thought he could do some research on me before he came here, we fooled him though.” She held her hand out to Richards for a high five. Y/N turned back to the guest and put on a serious face.

“So, Sebastian Stan, what’s my age?” Y/N asked, looking at Sebastian with an innocent look.

Sebastian blushes at the innocent look she was giving him. "Uh... I'm going to say you're 22." He said, nodding his head, confidently, that quickly faded at the deadpanned look she gave him.

"Seriously? Richards, do I look that young?" Y/N asked, looking at her co-host, receiving a shrug from the man in question. "I'm actually 14 years younger than you, Sebastian. You're 37, right?" Receiving a nod in response. "That would make me 24."She giggled at the startled look on Sebastian's face. Sebastian swears the sound is the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.

"Alright!" Y/N said as she clapped her hands together. "My drink choice, is there anything I should steer clear of?" She asked her guest, who, in turn, shook his head. She nodded and took off her headphones as she stood. Walking to the bar, she had installed along one of the walls in the room. She tapped her chin as she looked at all the liquor lining the shelves behind the bar.

"Ah- hah!" She exclaimed while grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels. She then grabbed three shot glasses and headed over to the cast table. She had everything down, "I'm not done." She said as she winked at Sebastian before she headed back to the bar refrigerator. Grabbing a Heineken and two Stella Artois, popping their caps off, she made her way back to her seat and got settled.

"Richards and Sebastian, Stella Artois." She said as she handed them their beers. "Me? A Heineken." She explained the choices more for the people watching the live cast. She slid her headphones on, "And to start, Three shots of Mr. Jack Daniels." She began to pour the shots.

"Oh, No. You're trying to get drunk right away, aren't you Y/N/N?" Richards said into his mic while shaking his head. His actions received a small chuckle from Sebastian, when he heard Y/N's reply. Sebastian full-bellied laughed, slapping a hand to his chest.

"Yes, I want to see you botty call your husband as you did during the Robert Downy Junior interview." Y/N giggled out, pushing the now full shot glasses to the people sitting at the table. "Salud." She said, holding up her glass, and once everyone followed, she tipped hers back and downed the shot.

Once they did their three starter shots, Richards took a swig of his beer before he said: "Alright, easy questions to ease you into this." He said, looking at Sebastian. "Then, halfway through, we'll take a break and postmate some food." Sebastian nodded his understanding. "Is it true that your godmother is the creator of Anastasia Beverly Hills makeup?"

"Haha, Yeah, that's true. She loves what she has done with the company." Sebastian said after taking a drink of his beer.

"Yo! Y/N/N, he could give you the hook-up." Richards exclaimed, smacking the woman on the arm, causing her to spill some of her beer, that she was drinking, down her chin. "Aw, shit, sorry."

"Dude, you get one free pass on doing that. The next, I will make you take three shots of Schmirinoff. " Y/N grumbled out while she wiped her chin off with her hand. "But, yeah, give me the hook-up. I need to keep my face looking snatched." Y/N looked at Sebastian with a smile on her face, Sebastian's heart fluttered at the sight. He thinks about how he's never had these feelings for anyone before. None of his exes who he thought were his soulmate ever gave him this feeling.

"I'll see what I can do." Sebastian replied, shaking off the thought, though he couldn't understand why he was so attracted to someone he's never met before. Sure, he's heard of her podcast. Some of his castmates from the marvel movies have been on the podcast before, telling him of how much fun it was.

"Ok, next question, and this is for all you shippers out there. Who's your favorite castmate from your time at the Marvel movies?" Y/N asked him while bringing another shot of Jack to her lips, motioning for them to do the same.

"Chris Evans, for sure. " Sebastian replied after taking his shot, motioning for Y/N to give him another. "We have like a bromance going on, according to our castmates. But we are really good friends."

The interview progressed on, the trio progressively getting drunker and drunker. "Alrighty I think we should take a break, I can practically hear Richards stomach from here." Y/N giggled out, looking at the chat screen on the wall behind Sebastian. "No, I'm not drunk. I'm just tipsy."

The trio decided to call for the usual 30-minute break that they did for every cast. They settled on postmating Chinese food for them and all of Y/N's employees. Her employees were working behind the scenes stuff like making sure everything was recording correctly.

Once the food arrived, they tore into the food, chatting randomly about life and things. Y/N and Sebastian spent a lot of their break getting to know each other, they both couldn't deny the pull between them, though they would never admit it to each other.

One of Y/N's assistants came in and cleaned up all the trash from the food, while Y/N went to grab more beers for the trio. Before pulling out her phone to take a selfie with Richards and Sebastian in the background, posting it on Instagram and Twitter with the caption, "Drinks are flowing with Sebastian and the other idiot who you all know."  She tagged the two and sat back in her seat after giving the beers to Sebastian and Richards.

"Back on live in 3... 2..." Y/N mouthed the word one and pointed to her employees behind the glass, getting a response that they were back on, she smiled. "Hello, and welcome back, everyone. We are all slightly more tipsy than when you last saw us."

Y/N gestured to her guest and co-star. "For those of you just turning in. Where the hell were you about an hour and a half ago? I mean come on, we have Sebastian Stan in the house." Y/N rolled her eyes, causing the other two to laugh.

Y/N took a drink of her beer after she took a shot with the other two. Richards narrowed his eyes at Sebastian. "We're now going to be getting a little raunchier. Sasha? Be a dear and bring out the naughty wheel?" Sasha, Y/N's assistant, brought out the wheel as requested.

"We spin the wheel, whatever topic it lands on. We all have to answer. Got it?" Y/N asked Sebastian after explaining the rules.

"I think so." Sebastian replied after taking a shot of Jack chasing it with a swig of his beer. "Let's do this."

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

The Last Dragon | The Witcher & Game of Thrones

Chapter 2 | A New Life

Summary: Visenya Targaryen is the eldest and only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. When Robert Baratheon’s rebellion was won, instead of being slaughtered by the Mountain like her mother and siblings, she was saved by Ned Stark and taken as his ward. Years later, after she’s killed at the Red Wedding, she wakes up outside Blaviken. Now she finds her destiny intertwined with the White Wolf on her quest to go back home.

Note: Here’s chapter 2! Thanks for all your comments and love. I was kind of shocked at how many people would want to read this so thank you! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for this story. P.S: Find the season 8 reference 

Slowly, Visenya’s eyes open, her vision hazy and muddled as she’s stuck in between distant dreams and the waking world. One blink, two blinks, three blinks. The room is much brighter than the darkness in sleep, her heavy eyes begging her to succumb to it once more, if only for five more minutes. Sunlight floods in through the window, cleansing away the darkness and the nightmares that come with it. The bed beneath her is lumpy and uncomfortable, leaving much to be desired in terms of comfort. The distant shouts of patrons in the tavern below only slightly muffled. Due to the thin walls, it sounds as if someone is screaming from behind Visenya’s door rather than from the floor below. A low grunt leaves her mouth, head pounding like a drum. Pain faintly shoots through her jaw as she slowly unclenches it. A loud pop echoes in the small room, Visenya’s arms stretching towards the ceiling. Lying in bed for a moment longer, she stares at the ceiling with a blank mind.

A year.

It’s been exactly a year since she showed up here. And despite that, she’s never grown used to it. A piece of Visenya still believes that this is all an elaborate dream. Perhaps she’ll wake up and be back in camp, fighting a losing war. Or maybe she’ll be in Winterfell, tucked away in her bed as she huddled under her furs to keep away the cold. All the Starks will be alive and well, and Visenya can laugh with them over breakfast as she chases away the bizarre and dark nightmare.

But the other half of her knows that idea to be false, nothing but a fantasy that’s just out of her grasp. This is real, and so are the actions that led to her showing up in Blaviken. She can still see it too, in the depths of her mind. The last image of Robb burned in her head as his body was paraded around the burning camp, his head cut off and replaced with Greywind’s. The unspoken apologies bubbling out of Visenya’s mouth, all the words she never got to say to him and never will.

No, this is all real. And the sooner Visenya accepts that the sooner she can move on with her life.

She just hasn’t learned how to.

A crash from below and a slew of muffled curses bring Visenya out of her thoughts. Metaphorically and physically, Visenya shakes her head in an attempt to clear away the lingering melancholy. With a heavy sigh and the popping sound of bones cracking, Visenya pulls herself out of the bed, throwing aside the thin, itchy blanket. The cool wooden flooring on her feet is a stark but welcome contrast to her warm temperature. With the grace of a drunkard, she stagers over to the small dresser shoved in the corner of her room. In the process, she tosses off her old nightgown and trades it for a simple blue dress. She haphazardly tosses it on, unbothered by any wrinkles. It’s one of the few dresses she owns. She managed to sew it - after many pricked fingers and a storm of curse words. She received the fabric from the local tailor. One of the local men was harassing the tailor and Visenya offered to get him off her hands in exchange for some fabric. Needless to say, the man - who turned out to be usual at the tavern - had a beautiful black eye for a solid week. It’s a win-win for Visenya; she gets free fabric and the men think twice about harassing her.

If they’re smart, that is.

She still owns all the things she brought with her from Westeros. Her clothes and sword were cleaned, various holes patched until they appeared brand new and her sword shined brilliantly. Her clothes lie in a chest, carefully folded and tucked under her small bed. The sword lies beside it in its sheath waiting to be used once more. Visenya had been unable to get rid of the items but couldn’t bear to look at them. So they’re neatly tucked away, collecting dust as Visenya pretends they don’t exist.

Some nights, when riddled with melancholy and sorrow she’ll pull out the chest and unsheath her blade. The fine dress, embroidered with small flowers and details of silk alongside the deep blue cloak adorned with a fierce dragon and a proud direwolf gets drenched in salty tears. Sobs tear through the silence of the room, echoing in Visenya’s mind until it’s the only thing she can focus on, blocking out the sounds of screams from that night. She’d trace her sword, feeling the dragon on the hilt beneath her fingertips. It was both a source of pain and strength for her. It reminds her of what she lost in Westeros but it also reminded her of who she is - what she is. A dragon; and a dragon is unbothered by the sheep.

With a halfhearted ruffle of her tangled hair, the previously silver locks now dyed a mud brown. In fear of sounding vain, she hates the color. The golden - silver locks were always her pride and joy. It was soft as silk and shined like fine jewels, reflecting beautifully in the sun as it glittered like gold. The light bouncing off the alabaster snow made her glow. Sansa used to adore braiding her hair, styling it in southern braids. Now it was dry, tangled, and dull; never styled in the intricate braids she used to wear.  

But the dye is a necessary evil. Despite not being in Westeros - or anywhere near it - silver hair isn’t a natural color for women her age. And the people in Blaviken don’t take kindly to anything different. So, in an attempt to not garner any attention to herself, silver became brown. And with each application of the dye, Visenya feels a piece of her old self being chipped away, whittling away until there isn’t much left.

Another crash.

She turns around, another sigh escaping her mouth. She moves towards the door, swinging it open as she moves down the hall. It is bare and empty, with no patrons stumbling out of their room blindly. Her room is the closest to the stairs, often hindering Visenya from getting a restful sleep if the tavern below is in full swing. The floorboards creak beneath the weight of her, the sounds lining up with each breath she takes.

Every day is a challenge to keep her head down and mouth shut. The patrons are rowdy and crude, many of them before even having a drop of ale in their systems. Insults would hang at the tip of her tongue, thrashing at the patrons like an angry serpent, ready to land a deadly strike. Her palms covered in crescent-shaped scars from clenching her fists for so long. And sometimes she’d let go and allow her temper to flare and get the best of her. But the risk is never worth the reward, and Aldred has proven to not be a kind boss.

So with a deep breath, Visenya steps down the last set of stairs and sets off towards the bar. The scent of stale alcohol and farm animals mingling with the aroma of food hits Visenya’s senses, causing her nose to wrinkle in disgust.

“There you are! Took you long enough to get down here.” Aldred, the innkeeper loudly exclaims upon seeing Visenya. She mutters a quiet sorry as he shoves a tray of drinks in her hands. “Quit your apologizing girl. Just take these drinks to that table.” He motions over to a rowdy group of men, all donning dyed red leathers. A group of bandits - or mercenaries, Visenya doesn’t care to find out. They came in last night with a woman named Renfri, and haven’t shut up since. She manages to balance the tray in her hands and takes over to their table, dropping it with a thud.

“Enjoy.” she sarcastically mutters, already moving away before any of them have a chance to speak. A scowl automatically places itself on her face as she begins another day of work.

“Do you ever smile Jane?” Isadora, another one of the serving girls says as she passes by to bring another table their drinks. She’s kind enough but the biggest gossip in this backwater town. You can count on anything you say to her being passed around Blaviken within the next hour.    

“Only when bathing in the blood of my enemies,” she mutters to herself, quiet enough that no one should hear. The small chuckle that leaves a woman Visenya was passing, Renfri, told her she was unsuccessful. Visenya pauses to give the woman a quick glance before moving back to the bar, where Aldred already had another round of ale ready for a different table. She picks up the serving tray, careful to not spill the drinks ontop.

“You always so grim?” Renfri asks Visenya as she walks past her to serve a table. This time Visenya doesn’t pause but does answer the woman.

“Only when my heart beats,” she nonchalantly says in a deadpan tone. She hears Renfri stifling another laugh, but if she said anything else, Visenya didn’t hear.

“Here ya go boys,” she mutters, once again dropping the drinks carelessly on the table. Some of it splashes out of the cups and creates small puddles. A few of the men scowl at her as they grab their respective drinks.

“You always do have the most lovely smile Jane.” one of the men pipes up. Jerald, he’s here far too often and spends too much coin. It doesn’t help that he also smells like he’s never been introduced to bathing. Then again, that is most of the people in this town, Visenya has unfortunately discovered. Jerald, feeling brave from the copious ale he’s already consumed, reaches a hand out to grab Visenya. The anger bubbling under the surface of Visenya snaps, the fire inside her flaring to life. With the speed and ferocity of a roaring fire, she grips his hand that rests on her arm.

Without a moment of hesitation, she bends his wrist back until the back of his hand hits the table surface. He lets out a strangled cry of pain as she holds his hand in an uncomfortable position. The men around them let out various cries of surprise but do nothing else. The previously jovial atmosphere in the tavern dissipates, silence smothering the room as everyone stares at their table. She tightens her grip on his wrist, bending down until her face is a few centimeters away from his. Like a snarling wolf, she bares her teeth at him.

“Touch me again, and I’ll show you something far nicer,” Visenya said, a threat thinly veiled in her words. His eyes stare at her, closely resembling a spooked deer, fear speckled in his gaze. She holds him there a moment longer before releasing his arm. Without another word she swiftly moves back to the bar. Multiple pairs of eyes continue to follow Visenya as the atmosphere slowly returns, the chatter in the room picking up. And by the time she reaches the bar, the only two pairs of eyes on her, Aldred and Renfri. Aldred’s beady eyes follow her, a scowl resting on his face while Renfri watches her with a critical eye mingled with a look of approval.

“They always like that?” Renfri asks her, casually leaning again the bar counter, nonchalantly tossing pieces of her breakfast in her mouth. She lazily watches Visenya circle around the bar until she stands across from Renfri. Visenya’s gaze moves from the counter to meet Renfri’s. They quietly watch each other, Renfri waiting for an answer, and Visenya contemplating giving an answer.  

“All men are the same when they’ve got ale in them.” Visenya smoothly replies, breaking the silence and ending their stare-off. She grabs another cup and fills it to the brim with ale, sliding it over to Renfri. The woman merely raises an eyebrow at Visenya before tipping the cup up towards her mouth. Visenya watches as she finishes the ale so fast she could’ve given Robert Baratheon a run for his money. She slams the cup down, wiping away any residual ale on her face. Visenya says nothing, opting to begin eating an assortment of meats, cheese, and bread.

“Renfri.” she simply says, holding a hand out to Visenya.

“I know,” Visenya says, placing her hand in Renfri’s. “Jane.”

“I know.” Renfri mimics, giving her a teasing smirk. Visenya returns the gesture. She takes a moment to get a good look at Renfri. Shoulder length brown hair that’s almost as messy and unkempt as her own; a red blouse - matching the red leathers of her band of men; and a rather large brooch of a sword going through a circle with glittering gems on it.

“Nice broach.” Visenya simply says, removing her hand from Renfri’s grip.

“I think so too, it’s why I have it.” she smugly says. Visenya simply snorts with a snarky retort on the tip of her tongue, when they’re interrupted.

“You stupid girl, the fuck you think you’re doing? Get back to work!” Aldred bellows as he moves towards the bar, gathering the attention of any nearby patrons. “I swear you’re more trouble than you’re worth, Jerald and the boys said you attacked him again,” he sneers, resembling a boar preparing to attack. Visenya subtly rolls her eyes, eliciting a snarky smirk from Renfri. Aldred always did have a way with words.

She grabs two plates of food, probably prepared by Isadora. Without glancing in his direction she glides past Aldred, taking them to their respective tables. She drops the plates on the table. Without waiting for either of them to speak, Visenya turns back to leave. Before she can get back to the bar, the tavern door swings open. A large figure donning a cloak enters the tavern with heavy footsteps, his hood concealing most of his face. But Visenya manages to get a decent look at him before he moves from view. Sculpted face, piercing amber eyes, and snow-white hair. He quickly approaches the counter, where Isadora currently is. Visenya’s too far to hear what’s being said, but the pair are quickly interrupted when Aldred swiftly approaches them His face is nearly red with anger, making Isadora immediately move away from the two. At this point, everyone in the tavern has gone dead silent. Visenya moves closer in an attempt to better hear the conversation. One of the men with Renfri had already stood up, venomously shouting something at the stranger.

“Go; on your own or at the end of a rope. Your choice.” Aldred spits at the man, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s trying to appear intimidating, but the man before him is easily twice his side. Plus, Visenya doubts Aldred could overpower a half-dead chicken.

“Not a hard choice.” the man replies in a smooth voice. He turns to face the man that had spoken to him earlier. Visenya continues to move closer until she’s nearly behind the counter.

“Fuck that, kill him with your bare hands if ya have to,” Aldred says. After he says this, the rest of the men in red leather stand up, getting into a defensive stance. Visenya silently rolls her eyes at the situation. As far as she’s concerned the man hasn’t done anything wrong, and now they’re threatening to kill him. She carelessly glides behind the counter, trying to distract herself from the current tension.

“Probably why business isn’t so great,” Visenya mutters to herself, starting to pour another cup of ale, ready for this mess to be done with. She can feel the flames slowly building as her temper does - the same way it did the night she died. If they didn’t stop this nonsense, Visenya imagined she would be the one doing the killing and not on her own volition. Though the only thing she’d be mourning here is free room and board.

“Come on Witcher, you’re not scared of us are ya?” he asks in a mocking tone. A few of his men begin to step up beside him. The stranger just continues to stare at them. “Show us what ya got.” he goads, obviously looking for a fight.

“Can you not leave it alone for a moment?” Renfri interrupts, dramatically turning to face the group, throwing her food back onto her plate.

“Witchers can’t be trusted,” Aldred says through his gritted teeth.

“I’m not speaking to you,” Renfri says, not bothering to look at Aldred. “I apologize for my man’s interference in your day.” Renfri continues, nodding at the stranger whose back was turned to her. “Hopefully he can improve his behavior by tomorrow’s market.” Renfri finishes, her tone implying the words had a deeper meaning. The stranger and the man in red leather continue staring tensely at each other before he speaks up.

“Sorry Renfri.” he simply says, still staring at the stranger before swiftly turning back to his table.

“Beer for my friend and one for me,” Renfri calls out to Aldred, turning back to the counter to finish her food. Aldred simply huffs and crosses his arms, staring down the stranger - resembling a petulant child. “I am speaking to you now, good sir!” Renfri calls out to Aldred louder, slightly leaning against the bar. The stranger, who now faces the counter pulls down his hood, revealing tangled white hair that goes below his shoulders. His current position also lets her see his black studded leather armor and a wolf pendant that hangs from his neck. Visenya, who’d been at the counter pouring drinks into cups, without looking to Aldred for confirmation, simply slides two drinks their way. One for Renfri and one for the stranger. Aldred glares daggers at Visenya, but she can’t pretend to be bothered. With the tension in the room slowly easing, so is the fire that was bubbling inside of her. Something Visenya is grateful for. Renfri simply gives Visenya a nod and turns to the stranger. He also nods his head in acknowledgment of her but does nothing further.

She moves to grab a cup of ale that Aldred had loudly slammed on the counter, his intention to get Visenya’s attention. As she grabs the mug he harshly glares at her but says nothing as she moves past him. The volume in the room has returned, but the tension is still there. Everyone seems to be uncomfortable with the presence of the stranger.

“Jane! Another round if you will!” Renfri calls to her as Visenya was making her way back to the counter. As she passes Aldred who was still standing in the same position as earlier, she gives him a sickly sweet smile. The smile that was only reserved for arrogant Lords that visited Winterfell and Robert Baratheon, when he came to ask Lord Stark to be his Hand. On her way past him, she grabs a pitcher of ale. As she moves around the counter, she replaces Renfri’s cup with the pitcher.

“We both know you’re going to drink it all. Might as well cut the middle man.” Visenya teasingly tells Renfri. Renfri gives Visenya a sly smile, but it doesn’t match the broody expression on her face. She picks up the jug and moves towards the stranger.

“More and more monsters wherever I go,” she says, her tone sounding defeated, before leaving the tavern. Visenya watches her for a moment before turning her gaze to the stranger, who she now stood before. Even sitting down he was still taller than her. His gaze moved from Renfri to Visenya. His expression is unreadable, not sure what to expect from her.

“Jane.” she simply says. The stranger raises a dark eyebrow at her. Strange, it doesn’t match his head. “That’s my name.” she finishes. He gives her a gruff ‘Hmm’ before taking another drink of his ale. “This is normally the part where you tell the other person your name.” Visenya quips.

“Geralt of Rivia,” he answers after finishing his drink. Visenya nods in satisfaction.

“You made quite a stir coming in here,” Visenya says, already pouring him another drink.

“It happens,” he replies shortly.

“It must be the hair.” Visenya sarcastically quips. Geralt quietly chuckles.

“Must be,” he replies, his voice gravelly and rough. She opens her mouth to respond with something witty when they’re interrupted.

“How much coin for you kikimora then.” Marilka, the alderman’s daughter, interrupts, leaning against the counter beside Geralt.

~

Tags: @queenmendes ; @losers-club6 ; @demigoddesofchimichangagod ; @power-of-words23 ; @winter-moons ; @madamwhisper ; @toribentleyva ;  @comicbeginning ; @naughty-koala07 ; @im-a-muggleborn ; @belgiantrash ; @mikariell95 ; @ayamenimthiriel​