#( i am very sensitive and have a list of things i need tagged. my filtered tags are /extensive/ and things still manage to fall through. ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flamehairedwritings · 4 years

Text

The Fiancé: Chapter Five

Characters: Steve Rogers x Female Plus-Size Reader

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY

Summary: A lie about your best friend at a Christmas party spirals into world news, but a previously unknown threat leaves you having to now live the lie of Steve Rogers being your fiancé.

Originally based on the prompt ‘Character A’s ex will be at the Christmas Party A is attending. Character B poses as A’s fiancé,’ by @alloftheprompts.

A/N: The whole series will include swearing, alcohol, threat, violence, apartment sharing, protected sex, and more tags to be added!

The Fiancé Masterlist

All Works Masterlist

Read on AO3

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites; credit does not count.

Reality Bites

TUESDAY

Gentle sunlight filters in through a small gap in the curtains, warming your face. Stretching your legs out as you hum softly, you keep your eyes closed for a few minutes longer, clinging to the last remnants of sleep as your body revels in the support and softness of the bed and pillows.

Finally, though, as the alarm on your phone sings a trilling tune, you push yourself up and roll over to turn it off. Falling onto your back, you can’t resist lying there for another minute or so, gazing up at the ceiling and stretching.

Pushing the covers off, you slide out of bed and slip your feet into the slippers you had found in the wardrobe, and cross the room to where you’d hung the robe on the back of your door. Pulling it on, you yawn quietly, tying the cord. Slightly dopey from your deep sleep, that is a miracle bed, you open your door and move to the stairs, descending as you wipe at your eyes and mouth.

Mmh, right, drink, food, shower and then—

“Good morning, sunshine!”

Your eyes dart up as your foot touches the ground floor, your hand tightening on the banister. You stare at Nat and Sam, sat on the stools at the island, sipping drinks and looking bright-eyed, possibly having been up for hours, and Steve, standing behind the island. They’re all looking and smiling at you in varying degrees; Sam’s grinning, Nat’s got a smile that verges on a smirk, and Steve’s smile is warm.

... and then reality.

Raising your eyebrows as you clear your throat and lick your slightly dry lips, you continue to approach, moving into the kitchen area.

“Well, good morning,” you say to Sam’s greeting, starting to make yourself a hot drink as Steve moves out of your way.

You glance up at him and return his smile, though, God damn it, you hate how you still feel awkward. Last night you’d eaten together and watched the movie you’d chosen, but you’d both just sat in silence, only speaking to make a comment about something in the movie or to ask if the other wanted a refill on their drink. Saying goodnight to each other had been... okay. Had been in the same vein as when you might wish an acquaintance that you desperately wanted to like you goodnight, filled with lots of exclamations and smiles, at least on your end; ‘goodnight! Hope you sleep okay! Don’t let the bedbugs bite!’.

God, I hope I can settle in today.

“Did you sleep okay?” Nat asks, lowering a mug of what is probably the darkest coffee in the universe onto the island.

“Yeah, actually.” You wrap your hands around your drink, letting it warm you. “Dropped off straight away and slept right through.”

That had surprised you as much as it probably secretly did them. You’d anticipated a night of tossing and turning and fixating and anxieties, but your mind was probably so ready to be unconscious it had let you easily slip into sleep and stay that way.

“That’s good,” Steve says to your right, his arms folded across his chest.

“So the bed’s good and comfortable?”

You glance at Sam as you hum an affirmative, lifting your mug to your lips.

You can’t help but feel slightly like a flighty, caged animal and the most sensitive being in the world all rolled into one with the way they’re all looking at you and asking how you are, almost like they’re tiptoeing around you. It just reminds you of the huge favour you’re doing them, how dangerous it is, and also how it came about because of you.

No, stop that.

You’d told yourself last night, as you’d got into bed, that yes, you and Steve are in this situation because of you, but now you have a chance to make amends for it and help him, so there will be no more guilt or self-pity, just helping. With that in mind, you lower your mug after taking a long sip and swallowing, and widen your smile a little, looking between them all.

“So, what joys do today bring?”

“Well...” Nat reaches down into a bag you had spotted at her feet and pulls something out, straightening and placing it, a manila folder, onto the island. “... we have your schedule for the week here.”

Right... the hard part isn’t over. It hasn’t even begun.

"Okay,” you answer, grazing your teeth over your lower lip. “So what’s on the agenda?”

“Like I said yesterday, venue, cake tasting and dress shopping. We’ve got certain places we’d like you two to go to so we can start to see who’s tracking Steve.” Nat’s only looking at you, so they’ve probably spoken about it with Steve before you got up. Part of you wishes you’d just be told these things together, then you wouldn’t have to take and process everything on your own.

“Okay.”

She pushes the folder towards you before resting her arms on the island. “We now have five days to identify and arrest them, so it’s gonna feel like a lot but, as we’ve said, very necessary and useful. Today you’re—”

“Woah, hang on.” You’d opened the folder as she’d spoken, your gaze drifting down the very packed schedule, and you’ve just reached ‘THURSDAY’. You look up at her, feeling your stomach flip. “I’m not doing an interview.”

Nat takes a small, quiet breath. “No, we thought you wouldn’t want to, but...”

Ah. This is why they were being so nice and attentive.

“But?”

She holds your gaze. “But you will both need to do one. We need all the social pages to be buzzing and the chatrooms going, and people will wait outside to get a glimpse of you both. It’s the best place for someone to try and blend in, as they’ll have prior knowledge of where you two are. By Thursday we should have a list of suspects, so that will be our final, large opportunity to scope people out and potentially seize them.”

You look at Steve, who’s looking at you, quiet, expressionless, and you know he already knows all this so he’s probably agreed to it, so how can you challenge it? He doesn’t say you don’t have to like he did yesterday, probably because you know as well as he does that you do, you both have to.

In for a penny, in for a pound...

This is to help him, this is to help him, this is to help him...

“Okay,” you reply after a moment, your gaze dropping back down to the schedule.

Nat continues, glancing at Steve while you’re not looking. “All right, it’s with America Today at 1PM, but you’ll both need to be there for 12 for hair and make-up. We can guess what they’ll ask, probably about how you two met, how you’re feeling, probably light things like that.”

“Will it be live?” Her eyes are back on yours when you look up.

“Yeah.”

Fucking hell.

“Okay.” Your heart is pounding but you know you need to start giving more than five word answers, because you do want to do this, you’re so fucking determined for this to be successful, and you can’t bear any of them feeling guilty... but from Sam’s shifting, Steve’s silence and Nat’s tightly clasped hands, you guess they already are.

Inhaling a breath, you smile. Closing the folder, you wrap your hands around your mug again and lean back against a counter. “Well, we’ll think about that when we get to it.”

If Nat’s concerned, delighted, or surprised by your shift in demeanour, she doesn’t let on, and even all the tips she’s given you about reading body language can’t help you suss out her mood now. “Good. There’s plenty of time to prepare and I can ask the producers for a general idea of what they’re gonna ask. As for today, though...” She smiles, and it’s probably just as secretly forced as yours is. “... you’re gonna go venue viewing and cake shopping.”

"Ugh, marvellous. No, I actually am excited for that,” you say as Sam raises his eyebrows at your groan.

“Good, ‘cause there’s gonna be a couple of places, but first there'll be the venue visit that we’ve managed to leak to the press.”

“Okay. Oh, uhm,” you start to add as Nat goes to slide off the stool, “I’d like to add drinks with my friends for Wednesday evening...” You glance down at the schedule, double checking that it’s clear. For some reason, all your evenings are, except Saturday.

How kind of them.

“With who?” Nat asks, removing her phone from her pocket and unlocking it.

“Dolly Murphy and Bridget Sanderson. I work with them.”

“Yeah, we know who they are,” she says as she types something down on her phone.

Of course you do.

“Oh, I like them, uh, as in both of them, I mean,” Sam quickly continues as you arch an eyebrow, a smirk starting to form on your lips.

From what Bridge’ had told you last night, they both like each other very much.

“Good, so... do I have permission?”

“Yeah, that should be fine,” Nat answers as her phone disappears back into her pocket. “We’ll work out logistics, but a night out—”

“Could help me relax before the interview?”

Her lips twitch as she folds her arms. “Could give us another chance to watch the people who track you separately, along with you going dress shopping without Steve. People who are fascinated by your relationship will want to see and follow you, people fascinated with Steve, in all kinds of ways, will want to follow him. With that being said, we need you to post on social media, too. Photos on your Instagram grid, stories, things like that so people can figure out where you are.”

“Right, okay.”

Off private we come, brilliant.

She looks at you, her features softening a touch, "Do you have any more questions or anything else you’d like to add to it?”

You shake your head before you can even being to entertain the idea of anything else. “Nope. Seems all good to me.”

You can’t be the only one who wants to laugh at that.

Nat nods before any of you can and rises off of the stool, reaching down to grab her bag and lift it onto the island. “There’s just one last thing.” Reaching into the bag, she pulls a small handgun out—

A handgun.

And holds it out to you.

You hear Steve hiss out a quiet breath as she looks at you and you stare at her.

“What? A gun? Are you kidding me?”

She places it between you on the island. “It’s just for peace of mind, okay, and for your safety. Just in case.” Her eyebrows raise slightly. “Do you remember what I taught you?”

Nat had invited you to the gun range at SHIELD once, probably about a year ago, after a spectacularly shitty day for both of you, to blow off some steam. It had worked, and she’d shown you how to properly operate some of the many handguns they had. It had been a fun day, the most time you’d ever spent with Nat actually, and due to her very thorough demonstrations, you still remember what to do.

“Yeah, I do.”

Steve looks at you, taking the small gun and holding it in your hands, stood in your pyjamas, slippers and robe. He looks away, and meets Sam’s gaze. The other man just raises his eyebrows, a silent reminder he can’t reprimand or challenge Nat on this.

Because they’d already discussed it in harsh, hushed tones barely twenty minutes ago.

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind, Nat?”

“My tests say ‘no’,” she’d answered drily, her arm resting on the back of her stool.

He’d braced his hands on the island, arching an eyebrow. “She won’t need a gun, she shouldn’t need a gun, not with our protection.”

“I’m not taking any chances, Steve. We don’t know what these guys could do, I have to cover every kind of situation imaginable, you know that, as awful as it might be, I have to think of these scenarios and be ten steps ahead. This is a precaution.”

He’d pressed his lips together, knowing she was right, knowing he’d most likely make the same decision at the end of the day. He just hated the idea that you might need to use it.

“Steve...” Nat had licked her lips, exhaling a breath, her shoulders dropping just slightly. “You have to be okay with all of this. Even with the interview and the gun. It’ll make it easier for both of you. I’m not making these decisions lightly. Fury put me in charge of this so I’m gonna make damn sure my friends are kept safe, okay?”

He hadn’t been able to argue with that, either. He’d have gone to the ends of the earth for you all if roles were reversed, and he trusted Nat. So, he’d kept quiet, watched you, been the calming presence he so often needed to be, but he hadn’t been able to stop his reaction at seeing the gun, as quiet as it was.

He’ll make damn sure you don’t need to use it.

You place the gun in your robe pocket as you blow out a breath. “Wow, well, guess I’m one of you guys now, huh?”

Nat snorts as you catch Sam’s eye and smile, and she heads to the stairs, gesturing for you to follow. “Yeah, I’ll email you when there’s a recruitment drive. Come on, time to get ready, Miss America.”

You’d thought Nat was joining you to choose an outfit for you for some reason, but instead she just sits on the bed, letting you choose whatever you want and taking your phone, uploading a whole new, SHIELD approved security system to it that will protect it from being hacked, and block numbers you haven’t added to your contacts. She also gives you a more in-depth run down of the day as you change in the wardrobe.

The viewing is going to be at hotel, and she had chosen the place because A) ‘it is very fucking fancy’, and B) to see if anyone would inquire about rooms for the random date you’ll tell the person showing you around, the date of which will somehow be leaked to the press.

Then, you’ll have lunch at a cafe, somewhere you can see people and they can see you, and then it’ll be on to the cake tasting at two of the best places in D.C.

“... so don’t fill up at lunch,” she finishes as you emerge from the wardrobe.

Closing the doors, she sits up, having lain back on the bed for probably the only rest she’ll get, as you head into the bathroom to brush your teeth.

“We should have you back for about 5, then, all right?”

You hum through a mouthful of toothpaste before spitting it out. “Okay.”

She falls silent as you finish up in the bathroom and head back into the bedroom a few minutes later. Adjusting the engagement ring on your finger, you push the bathroom door shut with your foot as she looks up at you from her phone with a smile.

“You look nice.”

“Thanks.” You strike a slight pose before finding your shoes. “Can I ask, why don’t Steve and I have anything scheduled for the evenings? I thought there’d at least be a fancy dinner or something where we would have to show ourselves off.”

She exhales a laugh as you sit beside her to tug your shoes on. “We toyed with the idea, but we know how much you and Steve like having your evenings to relax.”

Your eyebrows raise as you look at her. “Wow, you mean we’re actually getting something we want?”

She snorts. “You’re telling me you don’t want to spend all this time with Steve?”

Your mouth opens then closes as you pause for a second. “Well, yeah, but, you know, that’s not what I meant—”

Nat pats your hand as she rises to her feet, her lips twitching. “All right, come on, before you pop a blood vessel.”

Your face feels warm because she’s got that infuriating smirk that means she’s either sussed your feelings out, mortifying, or she’s just teasing you which is just as annoying. But... That is actually... That is actually quite a nice take on all of this. Despite the circumstances, you are getting to spend a lot of time with your best friend.

You feel brighter as you follow her out and down the stairs, pushing your phone into your bag over your shoulder and closing it. Sam and Steve are still at the island, both sat on stools this time, and Steve’s laughing at something Sam is saying, gesturing with his hands what you work out is his latest attempt at trying out a new version of his wings.

“... Ah, man, I tell you, I am not paying Stark back for that,” Sam finishes as you and Nat reach the ground floor.

Steve’s chuckling fades but his smile remains as you and Nat approach, the men turning to you.

“You ready?” Nat asks him as she continues on, heading for the front door.

“Yep.”

Both men slide off of their stools as you come to a stop, hearing Nat answer a call on her phone.

“Nat’s gonna be tailin’ you two today, along with some other agents,” Sam says as he meets your gaze, rolling his shoulders.

“And what are you going to do?”

He snorts and points at the balcony. “I’m gonna try that pool out. Have a great day.”

“Ugh, I’m so jealous,” you call after him after he slaps Steve on the back and heads outside, waving.

“Me, too, actually,” Steve sighs, both of you looking out of the window at Sam, knowing how cold it is from seeing his breath in the air. “God, lounging in a heated pool all day would be nice.”

“Hey, we get to spend the day eating cake and having people stare at us.”

He chuckles as he meets your gaze, tilting his head. “Well, there’s no competition, then, is there.”

“Come on, you two,” Nat calls from the door and you both start to move at the same time, not wanting to annoy her by being half a second slower than necessary.

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you feel... optimistic about today, your smile easy. As you both head down the short hall towards the door, Nat holding it open for you, you glance at him, one hand in his pocket as he presses the button for the elevator with the other.

As you hear Nat closing the door behind you, you murmur to him, “You know I... I’m glad to be doing this with you, too.”

His gaze shifts to you, a corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other and, oh, how you’ve missed that twinkle in his eye.

“Let’s give ‘em America’s couple, huh?”

—

“Fuck me, this is nice.”

“Yeah... I don’t know actually. You’d have to get so lucky with the weather.”

“Oh, that’s true.”

You’d envisaged a rather nice hotel, but this place is a fucking mansion. Four floors, you can’t remember how many rooms the guide had said but there’s far too many, the ballroom where they hosted receptions was ginormous and decorated, like the entire building, to an exquisite degree that put the penthouse to shame. The gardens at the back of the property are what is really selling the place, though, stretching on with immaculately trimmed hedges and lawns, gorgeous fountains and statues.

You and Steve are standing some way off from the man showing you around, sipping champagne and surveying the land. The champagne had been a nice surprise, the glasses having been handed to you the moment the tour started as a congratulatory gift and as a taster of what the hotel could supply.

You’d flipped the brochure open with your free hand as you’d gone from one room to the next, trying to find the price list. You’d nearly spit your mouthful out when you’d seen the cost.

Then you’d asked for a refill, the man happily obliging, so beside himself with joy that you were both considering this as the wedding venue that he’d have given you anything.

Taking a sip, you lower the glass with a snort before continuing, “Well, if you got unlucky and it rained you could just be like, ‘hey, it’s like that song’.”

“What song?” Steve had also accepted a refill, but thanks to his serum you think the alcohol is only making you a little looser.

Thank God.

“You know the one, I think it’s on the playlist, ‘it’s like rain, on ya wedding daa-ay~’...”

“Aah, yeah,” he laughs. “If you were the right couple you could get a real kick out of that.”

“You could milk that story for years.” Draining your glass, you make a sound of delight as you point down to the bottom of the garden. “Oh, look, a little bandstand.”

Steve lets out a hum, nodding. “Oh, that’s a nice touch, people love that.”

“Great photo opportunity. Oh, that reminds me, photo time.” Handing him the brochure, you open your bag and pull your phone out, having to put three codes in now to unlock it due to the new security system, and then you open the camera app. Turning slightly, your back to him, you raise your phone and beam, tilting your head, and he lowers his head into the frame, his chin just above your shoulder, and smiles.

You take pictures together all the time, candids of the other person or selfies of your reactions to the classic films you watch, but you don’t think you’ve ever really taken a photo like this. You never post a picture of you two on your social pages, respecting his privacy and not wanting the attention it will draw, but you have a couple of framed photos at your apartment of when you’d celebrated your birthdays together that you love.

“Perfect,” you say after you take the photo, dropping your arm and locking your phone, planning to upload it when you’re back in the car.

Sliding it back into your bag, you loop your arm through his as you huff out a breath, squaring your shoulders slightly as you head back towards the guide.

“You cold?” he asks, bending his arm so it can support your hand.

“Just a little.” You scoff. “Who decided to have a winter wedding.”

He tilts his head, exhaling a mock-exasperated breath. “Think that was you, honey.”

“Me?” You give a faux-gasp in return. “No, darling, it was you. So desperate to marry me you don’t even mind freezing.”

He side-eyes you, arching an eyebrow.

You clock on a second later.

Your eyes widening as your mouth drops open, even as a wide grin lifts the corners, you pull your arm back, trying very hard to stop a laugh. “Oh, oh, no, right, no, I didn’t mean—”

“I think I’m gonna insist on a prenup,” he tuts, shaking his head even as you watch him trying to gain control of his smile.

Laughing, you feel the damn best you have in days. Looking up at him, your teeth graze over your lower lip.

“This is actually quite fun, isn’t it?” you whisper, conspiratorially, because should it actually be, because this is actually a serious fucking mission.

His answering smile tells you it absolutely fucking can. “I think it is. Free champagne, nice apartment, and, hey, cake tasting’s comin’ up.”

You groan with delight. “Ugh, don’t, I’m already so excited, let’s go.”

Practically dragging him along, you regroup with the guide who is still just absolutely beside himself. You have a little bit more small talk, are assured the entirety of the hotel could be booked out for you, they’d be happy to notify patrons who have booked rooms on the day to reschedule or stay elsewhere, which has you catching yourself before you cringe, and then he’s taking you back towards the building.

You thank him and say goodbye, telling him you’ll let him know your decision soon, (you and the whole world will find out together, bud), and then it’s just you and Steve, walking back towards his car in the huge, gravel parking lot. It’s quiet now, the hotel often has celebrity clients so no one really ogled you even when you were in the building, just a few glances and double-takes but very discreet ones, and it’s too cold for people to be milling about out here, even if they do want an autograph.

The front gates, someway down the main gravel road, won’t be quiet, though. Paparazzi had been waiting there when you’d both arrived and they’d had to back off as Steve’s car came through, but that hadn’t stopped the flashing lights and muffled shouts coming from the small crowd. You’d just kept your gaze ahead and ignoring them and thinking about what you might have for lunch had actually helped in stopping you from feeling overwhelmed.

It’s the same as you leave, the reporters now shouting if you’ve found your dream venue. Glancing at Steve as he eases the car on to the main road and you head back towards D.C, you lean your head back against the chair.

“Does that ever really get to you?”

“The press?” He glances at you and you nod before his eyes return to the road. “Sometimes. They’ve always been there, though, since I took the serum. It’s just something I got used to. Sure, there’s social media now but press tactics haven’t changed much, and I think once they realised I’m just a boring guy who only goes out for food and a jog they’ve eased off.”

You laugh, your arms folding. “You’re not boring, Steve.”

“By press standards I am. What sells more papers, me doing the same thing every day or Stark doing something different and exciting every day?”

“Oh, well, now, you’ve got me there.” You sit up a little suddenly, staring at him. “Wait, am I gonna meet him on Saturday? What has he said about all of this? Does he know? The truth?”

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You didn’t see the statement?”

“No, oh, God, why...” You’re fumbling with your bag, opening it, grabbing your phone and unlocking it, (God, this takes so long now), and opening up the internet browser.

Typing Tony Stark engagement statement, you tap on the first result that includes Steve’s name.

... Stark’s full statement below, released this morning:

On behalf of all the Avengers, all of New York and all of the world and the universe, Pepper and I would like to congratulate Steve and Y/N on their engagement. We couldn’t be happier for the couple and were delighted to share in their happiness with being the first to know. If he needs any advice, Steve knows he can come to me. Y/N, may God help you.

You groan as you lower your phone. “Oh, he knows, doesn’t he...”

“Yep.” You can hear the amusement in Steve’s tone even before you look at him. “Fury thinks he hacks into the SHIELD system every now and then just to have a look around. He knows about the threat, he and I have spoken about it, so we think he just connected the dots.”

“Well, he is a smart guy,” you mutter; the understatement of the century.

Steve drops a hand from the wheel, resting it on his thigh. “He’d probably’ve been told anyway, there has been a threat made against his building and party so Nat’s gonna work with him on security.”

“That’s comforting, at least.” Placing your bag in your lap, you place your phone back inside, being careful to tilt the bag away from him slightly so he can’t see that you brought the gun Nat had given you.

Just in case.

Zipping your bag shut and placing it on the floor, you sit back and put the radio on, both of you soon humming along to it, Steve’s fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

The rest of the journey is comfortably quiet, both of you just listening to the radio and commenting every now and then on a song or singing along. A glance in the wing mirror every now and then tells you a couple of news vans and cars are following but Nat had told you to expect that and that a couple of the cars would have an agent in. They fall back somewhat as you return to the city, traffic starting to grow.

By the time you reach the cafe you can’t see any of them but you know it won’t be long before they catch up.

Well, ‘cafe’.

Nat had called it a ‘cafe’, but you would have called it a ‘fancy bistro that you, Dolly and Bridge’ would go to either on pay-day or for very special occasions’. It’s all leather booths and low, dim lighting, with black and white photographs on the walls of different places around the world along with quotes in neon lights. It even has a valet. Nat had made a reservation, though, so they’re expecting you and you’re greeted by name as you enter, the waitress beaming. She’s lovely, though, introduces herself as Charlie and is genuine in her asking of how your day is going as she leads you to the table Nat had booked for you; a booth up in the furthest corner with no other tables close to it.

After ordering your drinks and food, and snapping a quick picture because you know Bridge’ will love the interior here, you’re left alone, an indication that this place also probably serves celebrity patrons.

With these prices I wouldn’t be surprised.

Due to the time of day, and it being a weekday, it’s quiet, the few people here either older or seemingly having business lunches. They’re all sitting quite far away from you two, but maybe Nat had requested the tables around you be kept free, probably compensating them quite handsomely for it.

It gives you a chance to talk freely, though, which is nice, but you still keep your voice low.

“This is a nice place,” you murmur as you sit back, your hands falling into your lap, “We need to start going to more upmarket places.”

He arches an eyebrow, one arm resting on the table, the elbow on the other placed on it, his hand supporting his jaw as he feigns hurt. “You don’t like our diner?”

“I love our diner, are you kidding. No, I just...” You blow a breath out, shaking your head. “I was gonna say I wish we went out more, for dinner or lunch or even breakfast, but, no, I like it when we stay in and cook.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Yeah, me, too.”

You shrug. “Maybe we should get out more, though.” You then tilt your head. “Oh, but I like staying in. Am I making any sense?”

He exhales a laugh as he nods. “Uh, yeah, a little.” His features soften. “I understand. I like going out, too, sometimes, and feeling, well, I can’t say this in any way that doesn’t sound self-pitying, but feeling normal.”

That makes your chest ache.

“No, I know what you mean.” You widen your smile. “Do you remember that bar we went to, in the summer? The one Sam took us to? I liked that place.”

“Oh, yeah, I liked that place, too. Great prices on beer.”

Your lips twitch and you continue, “Maybe we could go to more places like that, find bars and restaurants that have people that will just... leave us be.”

“Yeah,” he nods after a moment.

Charlie returns with your drinks then, and you don’t catch that his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he sits back. After you thank her and she leaves, he says after a short pause as you both take a sip, making his smile widen and his eyebrows raising, “We should start to plan what we’re gonna say for the interview, we can probably predict the most basic questions they’ll ask.”

You catch yourself before you pull a face, lowering your drink and swallowing, licking your lips. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

You discuss the finer details as your food arrives and you eat, the irony not lost on you and your whispering brain that yeah, you had started to develop feelings for him as you’d grown closer over the years.

But we’re not thinking about that right now.

When you finish your food and just about finalise your story, though, you’re actually quite relieved it’s quite close to the truth, it’ll make it all easier to remember. Charlie approaches with the receipt in a gold tray and places it between you, prompting you to nudge it towards him.

“Oh, he’s paying.”

“Oh, it’s already been taken care of,” she smiles, clasping her hands together.

Both of you look at her, your eyebrows raising.

“Has it?” Steve asks, and you suspect Nat is the culprit, but why—

She turns and points to a table a little way away. “That couple over there have settled the bill.”

You and Steve crane your necks to follow the direction of her finger. An elderly man and woman sit at a table, looking over and smiling warmly. The man formally salutes Steve, who, you see in the corner of your eye, returns it.

As you glance up at her, she continues, “The gentleman said you were his hero growing up, Mr Rogers, and that his father served during the war.”

Steve looks at her after a moment. “Can we pay for their meal?”

“They've already settled their bill, too.”

You watch Steve return his gaze to the couple, nodding and returning their wide, warm smile as Charlie steps away, but you can see the slightly helpless look that washes over him, knowing he’ll want to repay the debt and display his gratitude in a meaningful way.

Leaning forward, you murmur, “Go and say hello.”

His gaze darts to you. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” you smile, your features soft. “Go. They’ve been very polite but I think talking to you will make their week.”

He nods, and you know he’ll have needed that little push, that assurance that he could give something back. You watch him as he slides out of the booth and makes his way over, your smile growing as the man touches the woman’s hand and his eyes widen.

You watch them introduce themselves to Steve and shake his hand, and watch them laugh as they talk, watch Steve, relaxed and easy. A sense of pride suddenly starts to bloom within you, your stomach flipping slightly.

Your phone vibrating pulls your attention away, and you open your bag, pulling it out and unlocking it. A message from Aaron greets you. You’d swapped numbers, you finding Instagram too intimidating and daunting to go on much now, and it just makes it easier.

I hope your day’s going okay

You smile lightly, your teeth grazing over your lower lip as you reply. Putting your phone away, when you look back up, their conversation seems to be ending as Steve shakes their hands again, and then he points to you.

You smile widely and wave as they do and mouth, “Thank you so much.”

They just wave their hands dismissively, beaming. Steve returns to you as they gather their things and move towards the exit, a smile lingering on his lips.

“They seemed really nice,” you say as you get to your feet, shouldering your bag.

“They were really nice, that was a good conversation.” He continues as you both head for the exit, too, “Told me all about his dad, how he was nearly stationed near me but then he got injured.” Both of you pause as Charlie brings you your coats and you thank her for the service, both of you handing her a few notes for a tip which makes her beam.

“He was a lovely guy, he and his wife,” he says as you step out into the small porch area, adjusting your coats, Steve handing his ticket to the valet, who races off to retrieve his car. Paparazzi have spotted you, but the bistro has a small gate and hedges up, blocking them from your view.

Looking up at him, you smile again as he does, sliding his hands into his pockets, “He congratulated me on our engagement, too, said I’m a lucky man.”

You give a faux-smug smirk even as you feel heat rise on your cheeks. “Well, duh.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you, knew it would go to your head.”

You laugh as he shakes his head, the smile rising on his lips.

“Well, you did, and I’m gonna hang on to it forever.”

You hang on to it as the valet returns and you and Steve head outside, ignoring the shouts of the paparazzi and their snapping cameras once more, (hey, this is surprisingly easy), and for the ride over to the first cake shop.

It’s just as fancy as the hotel and bistro had been, but you get the sense Nat has chosen them not for their aesthetic qualities but more for the structure and layout of their buildings. The hotel had tall gates, the front one far from the building, the bistro had gates and hedges to obscure the door, and barely any windows, and the cake shop is nearly identical to the bistro, immaculate, neat hedges at the front, a small entrance-way between them, and floor to ceiling windows only on the front wall of the store. It’s connected to another shop on one side, the other a sidewalk, so Steve is able to park right outside, giving you the opportunity to dart across the pavement, through the entrance-way and straight into the store.

No reporters or citizens were waiting for you outside, which is excellent so you automatically like the shop very much, (no snitches here, wonderful), though you know that’ll soon change, as it has to.

Think about cakes, please.

As you enter the store, an older woman approaches with a wide, warm smile and greets you by name, (I could get used to this), and directs you towards a small, grey table, giving you a moment to take a seat. You glance up and meet the gaze of the other two couples here, one looking away quickly and whispering to each other, the other smiling at you a little shyly. You return it with a wide smile, and a slight raising of your eyebrows, a look of almost, ‘Look at us, huh, choosing our wedding cakes, how exciting’.

And, God, this is; you can see samples of the cakes behind a glass display window, freshly made and brightly lit, and photographs on the walls of some of their favourite creations. The interior is also gorgeous, industrial with a classy edge.

The woman, Damilola, she introduced herself as, places a book before you that lists their flavours, some you’ve never even heard of, styles, decorations, previous creations, prices and a page with a classy version of ‘create your own’. She takes a seat with you and is delightful and warm, and you feel bad for thinking for a moment or two if it’s an act to keep clients happy.

Then again, if I worked in a cake shop I’d be happy all the time.

This is by far the easiest thing you’ve done all day, maybe in your life, you and Steve both genuinely interested in the process and asking her how long she’s worked here, (30 years and she’s the manager), and she isn’t surprised when you ask for a sample of nearly every flavour, in fact she seems quite relieved.

“People tend to go for what they know and never really experiment or try anything new.”

Lady, you’re in luck; I’m still hungry and I’m gonna get what I can out of this.

You’re given a little card book to make a note of what you liked and didn’t like but it’s barely given a glance as you and Steve tuck in to the long plates that Damilola has placed down. She’s leaves you be, so you’re free to groan, albeit quietly, with delight at nearly every mouthful. Not every one’s a winner but, hey, it’s free cake.

“Mmh, oh, Steve...” you groan after a particularly divine slice and lick the crumbs from your lips.

He just nods and hums in return, scooping up every little crumb he can with his tiny fork.

Leaning a little closer, you whisper, “I’m so in love with this place, I’m gonna buy an end of engagement cake after this, and you can expect all your birthday cakes to be from here.”

Wiping his mouth, he sits back and nods, blowing out a breath of satisfaction. “I’m not gonna complain about that. Can my birthday be every week?”

You nod enthusiastically as you lick your lips again. “Gotta start making up for some, right?”

He laughs as you smile, putting your fork down and pushing your plate away.

“Perfect, we’ve got an air-tight reason. Should we take some samples back to the apartment? Or take some from the next place?”

“Oh my God, I forgot there’s gonna be another.” You pat your stomach as you sit back, knowing you’re full... but... “... We can take some samples from here. For the sake of comparison.”

“Absolutely, the sake of comparison...” He’s already lifting his hand to get Damilola’s attention, and when she approaches with a warm smile, he orders a slice of everything you liked to go.

Again, she’s not surprised, but smiles rather knowingly. “They’re good, aren’t they?”

“So good—”

“Honestly so delicious—”

“... Heaven...”

“... Don’t think I’ve had a better selection of cakes in my life...”

She laughs at you and Steve talking over each and heads off to box them up for you.

Resting your chin in your palm with a contented sigh, you look over at him with a smile, lowering your voice. “I have really enjoyed today.”

He looks at you and holds your gaze, one side of his mouth higher than the other. “Me, too. It hasn’t been so bad, has it?”

You follow his eye-line that briefly lifts to look out of the front windows, the tops of peoples heads and cameras just able to be seen over the hedges.

“No,” you answer, dropping your hand onto the table. “What was your favourite cake?”

He blinks slightly as your swift conversation change but doesn’t say anything, raising his eyebrows as he links his fingers together over his stomach. “Oh, now that is a tough question that’s gonna take some more sampling to determine.”

“You’re damn right there, Rogers.” Your smile widening, you look up to Damilola as she returns with two medium-sized boxes.

You both thank her warmly and greatly as you pull your coats on and take the boxes, moving towards the exit, and ask her to give your compliments to the bakers, who have been peering out of the kitchen every few moments to get a look at Steve and see your reactions.

She promises to and that you’re welcome back any time and she looks forward to hearing your decision. You say your goodbyes as she holds the door open for you, each of you holding a box, and you step out and—

The crowd has grown. A lot.

Swallowing lightly, you follow after Steve as you head towards it, barely able to see his car, and you lower your head slightly as you start to push through because they don’t part. Your photo from the hotel and one you took of the interior of the bistro, both of which you’d uploaded during the car rides, has obviously indicated you and Steve are out and about and are now in the city, and even if you hadn’t been uploading them, you know you’re being tailed by various media outlets and citizens. Your movements are probably being reported minute by minute.

... I wonder what people are saying.

No, stop it.

It’s too late, though. That thought, that one little thought, has embedded in your mind and just like that, the mental wall you had put up comes crumbling down.

“... comment on how you’re feeling...”

“... when’s the date set for...”

“... is it true it’s going to be...”

“... do you have anything to say about the article in the...”

“... using Steve to further your career...”

You’re listening to them now, seeing them, really seeing them. The whole day you’ve forced your mind to be blank, to think of something else, to just stare and move on, on, on, almost akin to dissociating, but you’ve lost it now and it’s overwhelming.

You’re staring into the faces of wide-eyed, shouting people, microphones and cameras, flashing lights making you blink and narrow your eyes. You realise suddenly that Steve’s taken your free hand with his and is trying to keep you close behind him, pulling you through the crowd. Some people are shouting at others, telling them to give you space, actually pushing them back, but this is so much worse than when you’d left your apartment, your actual apartment, your home, oh my God, I want to go home...

Damilola has come out of the shop to ask the crowd to move back, saying they’re blocking the way for their customers, but she can only do so much, and her voice is just barely able to be heard above the sound.

“Come on, guys, can you let us through?” you hear Steve saying, frustration seeping into his tone.

Someone in this crowd wants him dead.

The thought comes out of nowhere, so suddenly and so sharply that a rush of breath escapes you. You don’t realise your hand is squeezing his, your nails digging into his skin.

Suddenly, he’s pulling you in front of him, his arm around your back and you realise you’re at the car, and somewhere far in your mind you’re so fucking grateful he thought ahead and parked with the passenger side against the curb. You’re pressed tight between him and the car, your back against his chest, and his arms are either side of you, shielding you in as he opens the door, moving back with you to give you space to get in. You do and as he slams the door shut you close your eyes, feeling for the seatbelt and securing it. You keep them closed even as people tap against the window, even as you hear Steve telling them to back off as he makes his way around the car, even as they keep on shouting and shouting and shouting.

Steve opens the door and gets in, slamming it shut and reaching back with his other hand to place his box on the back seat, and starts the engine as you open your eyes. When people don’t move away, he blares the horn and people start pulling others out of the way, yelling at them to move. Then there’s a gap and he’s pulling away, hissing out a string of curses, his grip tight on the steering wheel.

“Hm?” you say, your gaze darting to him as you register that he’s spoken to you.

He looks between you and the road, concern and fury trying to fight for their share across his features. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I just...”

When you don’t continue, looking at him, he nods, having seen the faint glint of desperation in your eyes.

“How about we take these cakes home and do some more testing, huh?”

You look down at your lap, forgetting you had even been holding the box and nod as you swallow, managing a smile. “That sounds like the best thing.”

“All right.” As you keep a tight grip on your bag, he presses a button on his steering wheel and says, “Call Nat.”

She answers on the first ring. “What happened?”

He shakes his head even though she can’t see it. “There was too many people, Nat. It was a fuckin’ nightmare, it was too much.”

She sighs on the other end, and there’s a note of frustration to it. “I know, I could see from where we are, we had some agents in there keeping people back but we couldn’t do too much or they’d risk blowing their cover.”

He releases a breath as he rolls his shoulders. “I know, it’s all right. We’re gonna head back to the apartment, can you cancel our reservation for the other place?”

“Yeah, sure. Do you want me to come over?”

He glances at you and says a moment later, “No, we’ll be okay.”

“All right, I’ll message you.”

After she ends the call, he releases another, longer breath. You’ve kept your gaze on the dashboard, just focusing on your breathing.

There’s silence.

Then, you feel his hand back on yours, his fingers curling around it. You don’t move, you don’t say anything, either of you, but it’s so nice. It’s so grounding. Closing your eyes, you focus on it, letting it anchor you in the moment as you just breathe.

—

“Nat says they've got their eye on a couple of suspects,” Steve says as he returns from the kitchen, handing you a drink.

You move your hand out from under the blanket and accept it with a smile, balancing it on your stomach, your fingers wrapped around it. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.” He resumes his position on the other end of the couch, stretching his legs out. “She’s hopin’ tomorrow will be the indicator, see who follows you and who follows me.”

“Where are you going?”

“To see Peg.”

A smile lifts your lips as you look at him. “Oh, that’ll be nice, tell her I say hello.”

“I will,” he says as the ad break ends and the next programme starts.

You’d been watching a travel show, making a mental note of some of the places you want to run away to when this is all over. After you’d arrived back at the apartment, about an hour ago, and kicked your shoes off, put your bag and the cake box down and sat on the couch and turned the TV on, you’d flicked through some channels and settled on it and hadn’t moved since. You’d heard Steve move around in the kitchen for a few minutes before he’d joined you, handing you a drink and a blanket.

You’d both sat quietly, commenting every now and then on the places shown and how nice they were, both of you knowing you don’t want to talk quite yet about the day.

Now, though, the talk show you’d caught yesterday begins. As the opening theme plays, you exhale a breath and Steve shifts as one of the presenters talks over it, images and headlines on the screen.

Images of you and Steve from today.

“Let the wedding bells ring! It looks like our new favourite couple are deep into planning their special day!” she trills. “On the show today we’ll be giving you all the coverage of where they went and what they got up to... and the wedding date!”

Slightly shaky, zoomed in footage from someone’s phone starts to play, showing you and Steve walking back at the hotel, your arm looped through his, both of you smiling.

Ah, so someone had done more than just double-take.

Your lips twitch as Steve reaches for the remote.

“Also coming up, the must-have gift for kids this Christmas, you will not want to miss it!”

For a reason you don’t quite know, as the screen shows the presenters sat at their table, pictures of you and Steve displayed on the small screens behind them, a laugh escapes you.

Steve’s gaze darts to you as he pauses and you laugh again. "What?”

Unable to stop a smile, you rub your face with your hands with a slight groan. “This is just so dumb.”

He glances at the screen, which shows the presenters poring over a copy of the menu from they bistro they must have printed off, and the corners of his mouth twitch.

“Are you kidding me, this is top-notch journalism,” he says, just as the woman declares with a laugh, “... well, I’d’ve had the salad and a margarita!”

You burst out laughing into your hands as you simultaneously groan and cringe, Steve’s chuckling only fuelling you on.

It’s a good minute or so before you both calm down, Steve looking at you with a grin, his arms folded as you blow out a breath and wipe your eyes. He opens his mouth to say something when your phone vibrates on the coffee table, the screen lighting up.

Clearing you throat as your smile lingers, you glance at it and see you have a notification so you lean over to try and get it. You fall just short, though, and you groan, looking at him.

“Help mee...”

“All right, all right, I got it...” Sighing mock-exasperatedly, he sits forward and leans over, lifting it and handing it to you.

He catches who the message is from.

"Thank you kindly,” you say as you sit up, reading the message.

Sitting back, he says it before he can stop himself. “Aaron, is that the door guard at our place?”

Oh.

“Yeah.” You don’t want to elaborate, and you reply to the message quickly before you lock your phone, dropping it into your lap, and look up at Steve... and there’s a slightly teasing smile on his lips.

“You like Aaron, huh?”

“No...” you scoff, folding your arms, and he just arches an eyebrow, making your mouth open and close. “... Maybe a little.”

“All right.”

“Don’t start—”

His widening smile is accompanied by a tilt of his head and both eyebrows raising. “Hey, I owe you for all those Sharon jokes.”

You had ribbed him about that. A lot.

You pull a face as you make a begrudgingly agreeing sound, and he chuckles, his arm resting on the back of the couch. Looking at you, he speaks after a moment.

“I’m sorry that this is ruining starting something with him.”

You blink at him, your lips parting, before you snort quickly, waving your hand dismissively. “Oh, no, don’t be silly. I just like him, it’s just a crush, doesn’t mean I actually want to have a relationship with him. Everyone has those kind of crushes, don’t you?”

Did I say that too quickly.

He looks at you for a few moments, then his eyebrows raise a little. “Ah... Well, yeah, a couple, possibly.”

“Who?”

Now I definitely said that too quickly.

He shrugs a shoulder, rubbing a hand against his jaw. “Couple of people at work.”

“Well,” you smile, tilting your head, “Sorry if this is ruining anything for you with them.”

He chuckles as he shakes his head. “Well, sounds like we’ve got options once the break up’s announced.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, perhaps a touch too forcefully.

There’s silence.

“Well,” you say a little loudly, pushing the blanket off of you and sliding your legs off of the couch, “I think I’m gonna go and take a nap. Cake tasting is exhausting.”

“Who knew, huh?”

He smiles as he watches you go. It fades a little as you ascend the stairs.

A crush these days meant you didn’t want a relationship?

He doesn’t just have a crush, then.

—

Comments and reblogs make my day in a way I can’t describe.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged in this series!

Tagged: @herb-welch, @jobean12-blog, @gifsbysimplysonia, @multireality, @saltyspiceduh, @sergeantangel, @sarcasm-is-my-native-tounge, @lex-is-up-all-night-to-get-bucky, @dispatchvampire, @superapplepie, @rynabarnesrogers-reading, @im-not-great-at-making-up-names, @imaginedreamwrite, @thesefleshfailures, @mrsbarnes32557038, @tellthemall-i-saidhi, @tacohead13, @opalsandlace, @notsomellowmushroom, @river-soul, @ollypopp

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x female plus size reader #marvel fanfic #my writing #flamehairedwritings

71 notes · View notes

doomstypewriter · 3 years

Text

16 , chapter 2

I finished it!!!

Remember when I said I would upload the epilogue next week? What a lie that was! To be honest, I was definitely planning on it, but then I didn’t. I am glad to inform that, finally, the inspiration hit and I can proudly announce this fic is complete!

(If you see this, please consider reblogging it, if you like it, that is. Tumblr keeps on not displaying my posts on the tags. Thanks!)

Chapter 1

AO3

Summary:

After a run through sixteen years of grief, Lan Wangji lays next to his husband during a cold morning. Everything is fine and will continue to be.

Word count: 1471

TW: Nightmares, past trauma, grief, very mild angst (if you find anything else tell me and I'll list it as well).

Waking up

Waking seems to turn into a reminder of what he had lost. A cycle, haunted by a memory of aching loneliness. At the same time, being awake comes as proof that he would not be welcomed to an empty room after the usual nightmare.

Not when each morning was blessed by the comforting warmth of Wei Ying’s body, as always, hiding from the early sun rays against Lan Wangji’s own body. This was now the usual.

The wonder in saying that!

There is no nightmare that isn’t vanquished by his presence.

He no longer needs to imagine life without him, as he pretends to live day after day.

“Lan Zhaaan” he complained, “quit moving. We’re asleep. It’s not even five yet”.

Actually, it was a few minutes past five.

But, a couple of minutes, even hours, were a little concession when he got to stay there in turn, as if nothing could change. It probably would. Lately, he allowed himself to believe that for the better.

Lan Wangji yielded into untangling Wei Ying’s hair, he couldn’t help the smallest grin from appearing, these were the kind of things he had to resign himself to now. In his arms, Wei Ying sighed content, snuggling against him. He breathed in deep.

“Sandalwood. How are we supposed to get up now? It really is your fault, you shouldn’t smell so good. Sandalwood makes me sleepy” Wei Wuxian muttered.

“Poor excuse”.

Wei Ying laughed silently after hearing that.

“Well, one of us has to be in charge of finding excuses. If I didn’t do it, how could you enjoy your husband as well as you do, Hanguang-Jun? Besides, five isn’t a reasonable time to be anywhere, except asleep with me. I don’t deserve getting cold while they have you going all over the place, less now that your brother has retaken on his duties as Sect Leader. What sort of mess could happen in the Cloud Recesses at five in the morning? Not even I would wake up just to stir up trouble, and fierce corpses may not sleep, but even they must have enough common sense to not do anything until after eleven”.

“I thought you wanted to sleep”.

“Oh, I believe I’m practically already sleeping, how could you know? I’m sure that if I tried I could sleep talk in such a way that I would seem awake”.

“Hmm”.

“Will you stay with me? It would truly be depressing if I spoke alone in my sleep”.

Exasperating as Wei Ying could be, he made it hard to say no, if only because of how little Lan Wangji could do not to adore him.

“I don’t need you to. I will stay” he responded, far too willing to give in.

He could feel Wei Ying smiling against his skin. Turning his head in that lazy manner of his, he kissed the base of Wangji’s neck.

“Lan Zhan, you’re adorable! I’ve only given you one kiss and you’re already getting goosebumps” he made a long pause, trying to keep himself as awake as he needed to finish showing his mental process. “I’m not giving you any more now, if I did I don’t believe you’d manage to get a wink… don’t sulk, if you nap now I’ll wake you up with as many as you like…”

“Hmm”.

“It’s so early…”

Lan Wangji leaned in to give him a kiss on the top of his head, as if to say ‘you can fully fall asleep, I’m not leaving’.

Wei Wuxian’s breathing calmed down until it settled in the habitual rhythm that he associated with deep and peaceful sleep. It was long past five. His inner clock told him that soon it will be six, and, in spite of that, he couldn’t care less. He had asked him to stay.

The morning chill filtered through every nook and crevice of the Jingshi, even more as the winter approached. Hidden beneath the quilts, it seemed as if they had built a small place in the world for such a paradise. Those were the simple pleasures in which Lan Wangji felt the echo of a twinge of pain. During dead moments like this one, once upon a time, he had convinced himself that the passage of time, with neither pain nor glory, would be all the future had planned for him.

Yet, now.

He had spent countless mornings giving in to the demands of his husband to laze around for a few more hours, enough to memorise the meaning of each pause in his slumbering breath. It flabbergasted him to such a degree… his life. This was his life now!

Around eight, Wei Ying began to shift in his place. They didn’t run short of occasions in which Lan Wangji had to move an elbow pressing against his ribs or gently straighten his husband’s posture, so he wouldn’t complain of back pain the following day. Lan Wangji could tell, from his frown and mumbling, this wasn’t a mere matter of choosing one posture.

Naturally, they didn’t run short on nightmares either.

“Wake up” he tapped on his husband’s face lightly. “It’s okay, wake up”.

“Shijie” Wei Wuxian replied as he opened his eyes.

Wangji did not feel the need to say anything. He simply stilled his lips on Wei Ying’s hairline.

“Lan Zhan…”

“Nightmare”.

“Yeah, it seems like it… I’m sorry, you must be tired of having me waking you up time and time again with this stuff. It’s even worse since I can’t stand still when I’m sleeping badly” in all honesty, Wei Wuxian never stood still no matter what, but Lan Wangji decided against mentioning it. “I hope I didn’t hit you with my knee this once”.

“I’m fine”.

“Me as well! So you can go back to sleep and stop worrying”.

“Not tired”.

“Ah, you’ve surely been just laying down here, awake, since five. Lan Zhan, you should’ve slept. I can’t understand how you don’t die of boredom having me drooling on the pillow without doing anything else”.

“I’m not bored”.

“Oh”.

Wei Ying made sure to hide his face very well between the covers and Wangji’s chest, in such a way that he couldn’t see his expression regardless of how much he turned his neck. Anyway, he wouldn’t need it to understand what had just happened.

“Lan Zhan, you can’t just say things like that so seriously. Anyone would think that… well, they won’t come up with anything they haven’t already. Ah, I don’t know what I’m saying. You’re really good, Lan Zhan”.

“You can go back to sleep if you want to”.

Right after that, Wei Wuxian half climbed his torso, half crawled with his right arm, to lay his head on the pillow. The tips of their noses touched.

“I think it’s best if I keep you company”, he said grinning widely. “Sometimes you impress me so, how you’re able to endure hours and hours alone, doing nothing…” he trailed off, wrinkling his nose and looking aside the way he usually did when he thought he had touched on a sensitive topic.

“I’m with Wei Ying”.

“Exactly! Even in my sleep I’m still some fantastic company”.

“Hmm”.

Wei Wuxian began to laugh softly.

“I’m always going to be by your side, alright? Someone has to make sure you don’t get bored, and, who better than me? Besides, that way I get to speak as much as I please, the Cloud Recesses is already silent enough as it is. Having some variety is great! So, yeah, I’m not leaving… not anymore. This time we get to stay like this, no matter what! Is that fine?”

Wangji replied before he could carry on panicking any further.

“I was lonely… I got used to time passing… while I felt still”.

It wasn’t that much of a confession, but he found it hard to reminiscence on it nonetheless. Wei Wuxian’s breath caught upon hearing it. Perhaps he was downplaying the significance of his own words in his head, too used to hearing it from the inside, never once spoken. It hurt. Being without him had hurt to no end. Wei Wuxian could tell as much, he knew.

“Maybe it is worth it now, the pain. I didn’t feel like it was at the time. I went on for you… and for me. It was quiet, but not peaceful, and very lonely”.

Somehow he managed to summarise, some would say understate, his brother would, those sixteen years. Wei Ying teared up.

“I… I wish I had known back then, I would have… I don’t know what I would have changed but, maybe if I did something different I could have spared you--”

“Wei Ying”.

“Yes, sorry”.

“I spent sixteen years grieving, not because of you, for you. But, in this life, now, together… I’ve never been as happy”.

#wangxian #wangxian fic #the untamed #the untamed fanfic #wei wuxian #lan wangji #lan zhan #wei ying #CQL #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #wangxian fluff #doomstypewriter #doomywrites

12 notes · View notes

creativitycache · 4 years

Note

ngl asking for people who self-identify as "antis" is already biasing your results because the term originated from fans being defensive over getting called out (eg the types who sincerely think fandom culture is ""puritan""). fair number of people started to use the term ironically and it might be evening out but overall the post calling for responses on the survey still comes off as something written in bad faith?

I wrote a rather long and involved response and then tumblr ate it. Goshdarn.

Fair warning, this is a hyperfixation and I’m coming off of a migraine so this may not be very cogent. Please read this in the over excited tones of someone infodumping about emulsifiers, with no animosity intended.

So, tl;dr and with a lot fewer links, I’m incredibly interested by your perspective that “anti” originated as a derogatory term.

As far as I am aware, the etymological history of the word “anti” being used pejoratively is coming from some very new debates.

I’m also noting that you had no feedback regarding the content of the questions themselves, which I would be interested in hearing as I am genuinely coming from a place without censure.

The term “anti” actually is a self-descriptor that arose in the Livejournal days, where you’d tag something as “Anti ___” for other like minded people to find. (For example, my cursory google search pulled up 10 Anti Amy Lee communities on LJ).

I’m a self-confessed old. I was back in fandom before Livejournal, aaaall the way back in the Angelfire days. Webrings children! We had webrings! And guest books for you to sign!

I’m going to take a swing for the fences here Anon, so if I’m wrong please let me know, but I’m going to guess you became active as a fan in the past 5-8 years based of your use of the term puritan.

There’s actually a HUGELY new debate in fandom spaces! Previously, it was assumed that:

a) All fandom spaces are created and used by adults only.

b) If you were seeing something, it’s because you dug for it.

These assumptions were predicated upon what spaces fandoms grew in. First you had Star Trek TOS fandom, which grew in 1970s housewives kitchens. They were all friends irl, and everyone was an adult, and you actively had to reach out to other adults to talk about things. (By the way- a woman lost custody of her children in the divorce when her ex husband brought up to the judge she kept a Kirk/Spock zine under her bed. The judge ruled this as obvious signs of moral deficiency. That was in the 80s! Everyone is still alive and the parents are younger than my coworkers!)

Time: 1967-1980s. Is Anti a term? No. Who is the term used by? N/A Is fandom space considered Puritanical? No.

Then, when the internet came about, it was almost exclusively used by adults until The Eternal September. 1993 was the year that changed the internet for good, but even years after that the internet was a majority adult space. Most kids and teens didn’t have unlimited access if their parents even had a home computer in the 90s.

This is the rise of Angelfire, which were fansites all connected to each other in “rings”. You had to hunt for content. If you found something you didn’t like, well, you clicked out and went on with your day because you’d never see it again unless you really dug. This was truly the wild west, tagging did not exist and you could go from fluff to vore in the blink of an eye with nothing warning you before hand. All fannish spaces were marked “here be dragons” and attempts were made to at least adopt the “R/NC-17″ ratings on works to some limited success, depending on webmaster.

Time: 1990-1999. Is Anti a term? No. Who is the term used by? N/A Is fandom space considered Puritanical? No.

In 1999 LiveJournal arose like a leviathan, and here is where the term Anti emerges as a self descriptor. Larger communities began to form, and with them, divisions. Now, you could reach so many fans you could reach a critical mass of them for enough of them to dislike a ship. The phrase “Anti” became a self-used tag, as people tagged their works, communities, and blogs with “anti” (NB: this is at far, far smaller rates than today). Anti was first and foremost a tagging tool used and created by the people who were vehemently against something.

You could find content more easily than in the past, but you still had to put some serious elbow grease into it.

In 2007, Livejournal bans users for art "depicting minors in explicit sexual situations”. The Livejournal community explodes in anger- towards Livejournal staff. The account holders/fans view this as corporate puritanical meddling. The outrage continues as it is revealed these bans were part of a pre-sale operation to SUP Services. SUP Services, upon taking over Livejournal in 2008, proceeds to filter the topics “bisexuality, depression, faeries, girls, boys, and fanfiction”.

The Great LiveJournal Migration begins, as fans leave the site in droves.

Time: 1999-2009. Is Anti a term? Yes. Who is the term used by? People self describing, seeking to create communities based off a dislike of something. Is fandom space considered Puritanical? No.

Where do fans go? Well, in the last decade, they migrated to Tumblr and Twitter (sorry Pillowfort- you gave it a good try!)

What’s different about all of these sites? Individuals are able to create and access content streams. These are hugely impactful in how communities are formed! Because now:

a) finding content is easier

b) finding content you dislike by accident is easier

c) content you dislike requires active curation to avoid

d) truly anonymous outreach is possible and easy (for example, you anon! Isn’t it much easier to go on anon to bring up awkward or sensitive topics? I’m happy you did by the way, and that’s why I keep my anons open. It’s an important contextual tool in the online communications world!)

Now the term Anti gets sprightly. Previously, if you didn’t like content, there was nothing you could really do about it. For example, I, at the tender age of way-too-young, opened up a page of my favorite Star Trek Deep Space 9 fansite and pixel by pixel with all the loading speed of a stoned turtle a very anatomically incorrect orgy appeared.

I backed out.

1. Who could I contact? There was no “message me here” button, no way to summon any mods on Angelfire sites.

2. If I did manage to find a contact button, I would have had to admit I went onto a site that wasn’t designed to keep me safe. I knew this was a site for adults, I knew there wasn’t a way to stop it from showing something. There was no such thing as tags. I knew all of this before going in. So the assumption was, it was on me for looking. (Some may have argued it was on my parents for not supervising me- all I can say is thank GOD no one else was in the living room and my mom was around the corner in the kitchen.)

But now? On Tumblr? On Twitter? In a decade in which tagging is so easy and ubiquitous it’s expected?

Now people who describe themselves as antis start to have actual tools and social conventions to utilize.

Which leads to immediate backlash! Content creators are confused and upset- fandom spaces have been the wild west for decades, and there’s still no sherriff in town. So the immediate go-to argument is that these people who are messaging them are “puritans”.

And that’s actually an interesting argument! A huge factor in shaping the internet’s social mores in the latest decades is cleanliness for stockbrokers. Websites can become toxic to investors and to sales if they contain sexual content. Over time, corporations perfected a mechanism for “cleaning” a site for sale.

Please note there is no personal opinion or judgement in this next list, it is simply a description of corporate strategies you can read during the minute meetings of shareholders for Tumblr, Twitter, Paypal, Venmo, Facebook, Myspace, Yahoo Answers, and Livejournal.

1. Remove sex workers. Ban any sex work of any kind, deplatform, keep any money you may have been holding.

2. Remove pedophilia. This is where the jump begins between content depicting real people vs content depicting fictional characters begins.

3. Remove all sexual image content, including artwork of fictional characters.

4. Remove all sexual content, including written works. If needed, loop back to step 2 as a justification, and claim you do not have the moderators to prevent written works depicting children.

I would like to reiterate these are actual gameplans, so much so that they’ve made their way into business textbooks. (Or at least they did for my Modern Marketing & App Design classes back in the early 2010s. Venmo, of course, wasn’t mentioned, but I did read the shareholder’s speeches when they banned sex workers from the platform so I added them in the list above because it seems they’re following the same pattern.)

So you have two groups who are actively seeking to remove NSFW content from the site.

A) Corporate shareholders

B) People are upset they’re seeing NSFW content they didn’t seek out and squicks them

Now, why does this matter for the debates using the term “puritan” as an insult?

Because the reasons corporate shareholders hate NSFW material is founded in American puritanism. It’s a really interesting conflation of private sector values! And if Wall Street were in another cultural context, it would be a completely different discussion which I find fascinating!

But here’s the rub- that second group? They're not doing this for money. If there are any puritanical drives, it’s personal, not a widespread cohesive ideology driving them. HOWEVER! The section of that group that spent the early 2010s on tumblr did pick up some of the same rhetoric as puritanical talking points (which is an entirely separate discussion involving radfems, 4chan raids, fourth wave feminism, and a huge very nuanced set of influences I would love to talk about at a later time!)

These are largely fans who have “grown up” in the modern sites- no matter how old they actually are, their fandom habits and expectations have been shaped by the algorithms of these modern sites.

Now HERE‘s the fascinating bit that’s new to me! This is the interpretation of the data I’m getting, and so I’m out on a limb but I think this is a valid premise!

The major conflict in fandom at this time is a struggle over personal space online.

Content creators are getting messages telling them to stop, degrading them, following them from platform to platform.

They say “Hey! What gives- we were here first. The cardinal rule of fandom is don’t like, don’t read. Fandom space has always been understood to be adult- it’s been this way for decades! To find our content, you had to come to us! This is our space! This is my space, this is my blog! If you don’t like it, you’re not obligated to look!”

Meanwhile, at the exact same time, antis are saying “Hey! What gives- this content is appearing on my screen! That’s my space! I didn’t agree to this, I don’t like this! I want it to be as far away from me as possible! I will actively drive it away.”

This is a major cultural shift! This is a huge change and a huge source of friction! And I directly credit it to the concept of “content stream” and algorithms driving similar-content to users despite them not wanting it!

Curating your online space used to be much simpler, because there wasn’t much of it! Now with millions of users spread out over a wide age range, all feeding in to the same 4-5 websites, we are seeing people be cramped in a technically limitless space!

Now people feel that they have to go on the offense to defend themselves against content they don’t like, which is predicated upon not only the algorithms of modern websites but ALSO talking points fed from the top down of what is and what is not acceptable on various platforms.

Time: 2010-2020. Is Anti a term? Yes. Who is the term used by? People self describing,and people using it to describe others. Is fandom space considered Puritanical? Depends!

So I, a fandom ancient, a creaky thing of old HTML codes and broken tags, am watching this transformation and am wildly curious for data.

Also...I uh....I can’t believe this is the short version. My ADHD is how you say “buckwild” tonight.

Anyways...um...if anyone has read to the bottom, give me data?

#Asks&Answers #fandom #anti #fandom discourse #gosh I've been on the internet a long time...#started at the 90s now we hear #I still sometimes think about the dudes who were HELLA salty about the eternal september #they talk about it like it was a war...you bring up Usenet and they go #I was THERE Gandalf

13 notes · View notes

lostinthewiind · 5 years

Note

Dude can you imagine Doc Roe speaking French while you guys fuck

Ummm…just reading the request for this fic gets me feeling some typa way. GODDAMN! One sexy French-speaking boy coming right up!

Quick disclaimer: I don’t speak French so if any of the translation is off I’m so very sorry. You can blame my middle school French teacher for doing me and the rest of my class a disservice by just playing movies in French with English subtitles.

Warnings: ***SEXY TIME***

Tag List: @warmommy @gottapenny @croatianbagudna @wexhappyxfew @scissorsfordoc @curraheev @mayhem24-7forever @one-who-hunts-eagles @bandofmarvels @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @wildwilliamguarnere @majwinters @theonetryingtolive @higgles123 @those-dusty-jump-wings @medievalfangirl @maiden-of-gondor @whoabrekker

Tu Me Manques

The second he saw you climbing out of that jeep after returning from the hospital, Eugene Roe was over the moon. The quiet, bashful medic would never admit it to anyone who asked, but he had a certain fondness for you that went well beyond how he felt about any of the other members of Easy Company.

Sure, he liked the guys, and even though you asked to be treated just like one of the guys, he couldn’t help the way a smile spread to his mouth, warmth rushed to his cheeks, and his heart pounded hard against his chest whenever he so much as looked in your direction.

Before he had the chance to stop himself, Eugene had completely fallen for you. One day you were just Y/N, another Paratrooper he had to keep from dying, and the next you were the most beautiful, kind, amazing human he had ever met in his entire life.

With your pack slung over your shoulder, you thanked the jeep driver before turning and heading out to locate Battalion and find out where you were needed. Before you got very far, however, you spotted him standing there watching you.

Throwing your pack to the side, you rushed over to the handsome medic and engulfed him in a hug, not even bothering to pay any mind to the soreness of your still healing wound.

“Hi,” you greeted him simply after letting him go. “It’s good to see you again.”

Eugene smiled down at you, his hands still unknowingly resting on your hips. “Hi,” he said back. “It’s good to see you again too.”

“I missed you,” you told him without even caring if he missed you too or not. At that point, being away from him for so long had begun to drive you crazy with worry for his safety.

“Tu m'as manqué aussi.” he whispered, his voice low enough for you to just barely hear him. With slow movements, he lifted his hand to your face and brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, his fingertips grazing against your cheek. At that moment, it was just the two of you in the entire world.

You let your eyes fall as you tried to hide the blush rising to your face. “What does that mean?”

“It means I missed you too.” he translated. “Sorry, sometimes it slips my mind that you don’t speak French. You just feel so much like home that I…well, I forget. I’ll try to stop.”

“No.” you shook your head and took his hands in your own. “Don’t stop. I like it.”

Eugene cocked a brow. “You like it?”

“Yes,” you admitted, a faint smirk playing at the corner of your mouth. “I think it’s really…attractive.”

“Attractive?” he repeated. “Really? You think it’s attractive?”

You nodded. “Well, actually, I think you’re attractive; the French only adds to it.”

Shifting his eyes side to side to make sure no one was looking or listening in, Eugene lowered his mouth down to your ear. “Voulez-tu aller quelque part un peu plus privé?” he whispered, his hot breath on your ear sending chills up and down your spine.

Your eyelids fluttered slightly as he looked down at you. “I have no idea what you said but the way you said it has me very inclined to say yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

With one last check to make sure the two of you weren’t being watched, Eugene scooped you up into his arms, his hands hooked under your ass before he carried you off to somewhere where the two of you could be completely alone.

After locating an empty room, Eugene took you inside and locked the door behind himself. The room was some sort of office, and from the look of the fireplace, couch, carpet, and shiny wooden desk, it was the office of someone important. Neither one of you cared though. The only thing on your mind was Eugene and the only thing on Eugene’s mind was you.

The next thing you knew you were being placed gently down on top of the pristine desk. After his hands let go of your bottom, Eugene trailed his fingers up your body before cupping your face with his palms, his touch leaving behind trails of warmth that could be felt even through your uniform.

With wide eyes, you looked up at the medic, your pupils paying special attention to how beautiful his lips looked in the dim, warm lighting of the room. “Kiss me,” you almost demanded without even really filtering the words first.

“Yes, ma’am.” Eugene happily obliged by dipping his head and pressing his lips softly against yours. There was no rush or desperate need in the kiss; instead, it was slow and passionate. You could tell the man before you was going to take his sweet time with you, and the thought of that made your head spin even more than it already was.

“Je veux embrasser chaque centimètre de ton corps.“ he mumbled into your skin as he began to trail his kisses down your jaw, neck, and collarbone. Every time his magic mouth came into contact with your exposed skin you shivered a little bit, both from the touch and the anticipation of what was to come.

While Eugene continued to press kisses to as much of you as he could, some open-mouthed and some where his tongue flicked over the sensitive skin, you worked at removing your jacket. Once your heavy layer was discarded behind you on the desk you unzipped Eugene’s and dropped it to the floor by his feet.

“I thought about you every day that I was gone.” you breathed out as he reached for the hem of your shirt and carefully tugged it over your head.

“I did the same,” Eugene assured you before removing his own shirt and stepping further between your legs so that his chest could press up against yours. His warm skin felt like heaven against yours and as his lips captured yours again you swore you actually were in heaven. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, his words slightly mumbled as he trapped your bottom lip between his teeth.

Reaching for his belt and beginning to undo it, you kissed him again and let a soft moan escape. “Yes,” you assured him. “Oui.”

“Oui.” he chuckled slightly as he helped you out of your pants. “Very good.”

Once your pants and underwear had been discarded along with the rest of your clothing, Eugene grabbed onto your thighs with his hands and bent down. “Ne fais pas être trop de bruit.” he spoke into your core before licking a stripe between your folds to test the waters.

Holding back a cry that so desperately wanted to escape, you tangled your fingers in Eugene’s hair while your other hand was planted firmly on the desk behind you, holding your body up. As the irresistible medic captured your clit between his lips and sucked hard, you threw your head back. “God, I think I love you.” your mouth fell open.

“J'adore ton goût, ma douce.“ the vibrations of Eugene’s voice pushed you closer and closer to your climax. “Tu as le goût de tout ce qui me manque dans le monde.”

As you began to teeter on the edge of your orgasm, Eugene pulled his head out from between your legs and wiped your juices from his mouth with the back of his hand. “I could taste you all day.” he pulled his stiff member out of his boxers and lined himself with your slick entrance. “However, I would rather feel you instead.”

When Eugene slowly pushed inside of you, he kissed you once more, the taste of yourself on his lips driving you wild in a way you thought was impossible. “Repeat after me.” he rested his forehead against yours. “Je t'aime.”

“J-Je t'aime.” you gasped out as he continued to make love to you right there on that desk. “What…oh, god…what does it mean?”

“I love you,” he informed you, a smile taking over his mouth before he pressed another kiss to your already swollen, red lips. “Je t'aime.“

“I like it when you speak French to me.” you wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him close before pressing your nose into his cheek. “I especially like it when you fuck me like this and speak French to me.”

Eugene buried his head into your neck as he began to approach his own orgasm. “Alors je vais te baiser comme ça et te parler français tous les jours.”

With a few more ragged breaths and a few more thrusts, the two of you unraveled in each other’s arms. “Ti amo.” you managed to get out as your body finally stopped shaking.

Eugene lifted his head from your neck and looked at you with a puzzled expression. “Hmm?”

“I may not speak French, but that doesn’t mean I only speak English.” you smiled wide. “It’s Italian. It means ‘I love you’.”

Eugene copied your smile. “Ti amo.”

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers fanfic #sexy time #eugene roe #eugene roe x reader #roe x reader #hbowar #lostinthewiind #reader insert #x reader #reader imagine

215 notes · View notes

semblanche · 5 years

Text

ask to be added/removed from my tag list!

current title: terras town

pov: third person, unknown number of narrators

genre: urban fantasy

status: first chapter done

summary:

Terras Town is another world, built on the laws of beasts.

Magic has warped its people to the point where bloodshed is seen as a side effect of breathing, and survival is just a stepping stone off others backs. Its people have no trust there, and their children have no shame. They have nothing our world would envy.

Terras Town is another world; the heavier side of the same coin.

Think of it as the first floor of a two story apartment, while we're lucky enough to stay on the second. The two worlds are kept apart by a thin magical barrier older than time itself - and twice as sensitive to change.

Terras Town is another world - and it should stay as such.

Which is why when Jekyll, seventeen year old high school 'drop-out' and aspiring graffiti artist, finds themself mysteriously trapped in Terras Town with no idea how to return, it's only a matter of time before the barrier breaks - and their world comes crashing down on them all.

Jekyll's only hope is a boy named Ben, who went mysteriously missing a few weeks back. Now it's up to Jekyll to find Ben so they can get back home - and make sure Ben has a home to get back to.

Terras Town is another world. And you can't get a taste of another world without it cutting your tongue.

(A story of a family that spills more blood than it's made of, all the wrong kinds of love, and bones that whisper only the truth.)

excerpt:

In the Desert, there is no rain.

The only pools to be found are pools of sand, sleek and scalding, a graveyard of lukewarm corpses and forgotten names.

Any dead man’s footsteps are long gone, swallowed and swept over by a law of nature not interested in the affairs of men - or maybe just by bad luck. Bad luck is what you’d need to have to be travelling across the Desert to begin with.

The heat in the Desert beats down in waves, almost tangible in their torture. They curl around the unlucky travelers’ throats and suck them dry, seep into their very skins and leave them raw and blistering.

In the Desert, there is no rain. And there sure as hell is no mercy.

Although, really, maybe such a fate was the mercy all along. If the travelers didn’t wish to die, then why would they try crossing the Desert to begin with? Its endless, glass-like expanses start at the town borders and carry on as far as the eye can see. There’s a beginning, sure, but no middle, no end. Maybe the travelers just hadn’t thought this far yet.

The two people currently crossing the Desert are not travelers.

They are cloaked in appropriate desert gear, with enough layers to keep the sun at bay but with enough space for the wind to filter through and breeze over their skin.

The shorter one walks with short, quick steps, her feet barely touching the ground. She is holding a large paper that looks like a map, and her eyes scour it hungrily, devouring every line.

Her taller friend trails behind her dutifully, occasionally taking a swig from the flask of water he's carrying and sighing just softly enough for her not to hear. His joy at being included battles with his dislike of what he’s being included in, and there is no sign of either side winning.

Every so often, the girl will stop, and her friend will crash into her. The girl will angrily scold him, find a thread in his heart to unravel just enough for her to pull a meek apology from his lips, and then return to her hunt. The cycle soon repeats.

They are a strange pair. But they are not travelers. Because unlike travelers, they've come prepared.

And unlike travelers, they intend to return home.

The girl, once again, stops. The boy crashes into her. Instinctively, he shrinks back, waiting for her reprimand. When it doesn't come, he takes courage.

“Sorry,” he says. “Wasn't looking where I was going.”

“Why would you,” the girl mumbles. Her eyes are still on the map. “I'm the one with the map. Everything all looks the same without it.”

“I'll give you that,” the boy, whose name is Egg, admits. He sighs, happy with the direction this conversation has taken. “So, are we lost, then?”

His relief was premature. The girl snaps to attention like a rubber band.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, looking at him like one might a particularly stubborn stain on their best shirt. “Of course not.”

“Of course not,” Egg agrees instantly. If his friend is a rubber band, he is play-doh, content with being shaped and molded however she sees fit if it means she’ll keep him around.

The girl, whose name is Eve, sighs. She turns the map upside down, then right side up again, as if that’ll change what’s drawn on it. “I know where we are,” she says firmly, more to herself than Egg. “I know where we are.”

“Of course you do,” Egg says comfortingly. It’s the wrong thing to say. Eve whips around to glower at him, already deep lines on her cheeks and forehead deepening with hatred.

“Do not patronize me,” she seethes. “You’re lucky I even brought you along.”

“I am,” Egg agrees humbly. “Thank you.”

“I could have left you behind. I didn’t need your help.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“And I do know where we are, you know. I’m not lost.”

This time, Egg has the sense to keep quiet. Eve waits for a second, eyebrows raised as if daring him to disagree– when he doesn’t, she turns away again with a huff of disgust. A moment passes as she looks over the map again. Egg wipes his forehead.

Around them, the sand shifts, the wind unraveling it like threads of a carpet beneath their feet. The sun is no closer to setting than it was when they first started their journey, but it’s starting to look like it’s thinking about it.

Time is running out.

And so is Eve's patience.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip introduction #urban fantasy #lgbt fantasy #alternate universe #terras town #ya fantasy #original writing #she writes #whew boy this is long! and late #long and late #title of your sex tape

71 notes · View notes

let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Rising from the Ashes (15/?)

When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be. And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones. As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be.

Rating: Mature

A/N: I got in a pretty major sticky spot with some of the upcoming chapters (it’s messy, y’all), so I obviously spent my time trying to make a new banner 75% of the way into the story to confuse all of you. Logical, right? And it’s not even the one I was trying to make. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this one! It’s not quite as angsty as some of the others, but big things do happen!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Tag list: @blowmiakisscolin @jamif @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @shady-swan-jones @snowbellewells @snow-into-ash @andiirivera @mariakov81 @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @kristi555 @facesiousbutton82 @superchocovian @jonirobinson64

“Dad, last time we were on an airplane Mom threw up in my pretzel bag.”

Neal looks over to her with a raised brow as they walk through the airport terminal, people quickly passing them with their suitcases rolling behind them, half of the wheels squeaking against the battered tile floor. “Did she? That’s kind of gross.”

“It was so gross,” Henry continues skipping a bit ahead of them, his backpack bouncing on his back so that all of his belongings jiggle around. “She said that it was all Ada’s fault.”

“Morning sickness,” she explains to Neal while Ada squirms in her bjorn. She wants to be able to crawl around and prop herself up on all of the chairs, but now is unfortunately not the time for that. Now is obviously just the time for Emma’s back to hurt because of how big this kid is getting. “The last time we went on a trip we went to London to visit Liam and Belle, and I was very early on in my pregnancy. So naturally the worst of the vomiting took place on a plane.”

“So I bet you love flying then?”

“Well, last time I couldn’t stop throwing up and this time I have a baby, which means that she’s obviously going to scream the entire time and everyone will hate us.”

“They won’t hate us, love,” Killian not-so-helpfully supplies. “People know that babies cry.” “Doesn’t make it any less obnoxious when the wailing won’t stop.”

She opens her mouth to say something back to Neal, but then Henry is stopping in front of them, his feet practically skidding across the tile. “Dad, look at that plane. It’s huge.”

“How many people do you think fit in there, kid?” Neal asks, taking a few steps forward so that he’s in line with Henry while she falls back a step to walk next to Killian as he tugs along their carry-on and the stroller. People might not hate them for the screaming baby, but they’ll hate them for taking up overhead space. They should have just checked the thing.

“You excited to go back to our old stomping grounds, Swan?”

She’s a bit wary about it if she’s honest with herself, but they’re going for spring break and to let Henry see where Neal is now officially going to be living. It’s a good thing, and she’s going to enjoy it. She’s determined to. If not for her, for Henry.

“A little. I mean, there’s a lot of memories there, but I figured we’d go full on tourist and take Henry to all of the monuments, do one of those fake photos where he’s shaking George Washington’s hand. Really live it up. Henry will love that. Is that history buff mind of yours all geared up to tell him the stories?”

“You insult me, Swan. You know that I come prepared. And if I forget something, I’m sure there’s a brochure or two to help me.”

“If you ever need another job, I bet you would make an excellent tour guide.”

“Ah, yes, the Brit who shows people around America’s capital.”

“The British-American war veteran who shows people around America’s capital,” she corrects, looking up at him and smiling while he keeps looking straight ahead, the defined line of his jaw in her vision. “And who looks damn good doing it. I’ll write you a trip advisor review and mention just how hot you are so that you get lots of customers.”

He scoffs at that, the slightest bit of laughter in the sound. “I would think that my brain would be the thing my little followers are interested in.”

“Oh it will be. It’s a very sexy thing that I am very much in love with. I just like looking at your face is all.”

Killian smiles down at her, his eyes crinkling with affection, and she wonders what her life would be like if he looked at her like that for the rest of her life. She’s got no idea how he expresses such emotion with only his face, but sometimes it takes her breath away.

“That’s a good thing because I like looking at my face too.”

“You are devilishly handsome after all.”

They all easily board the plane, even if it takes a few minutes to check the stroller at the gate instead of putting it in the overhead, and thankfully, Ada doesn’t have a meltdown during the flight. Killian spends most of the time reading to her while Emma holds her in her lap, and Ada is thoroughly entertained by the bright pictures and pop up sections. Emma can tell that she still wants to move around and crawl, but she is not about to let her kid move around on the floor of an airplane. That’s a recipe for getting sick, and that’s the last thing that she wants.

But they do eventually land at Raegan and load up into a cab to be taken to the hotel. They’ll probably take the metro for the rest of the week, but they can spend the money on a cab when they have all of these bags. It’s weird to be back in the city, even if they are in the actual metropolitan instead of just outside in Alexandria. It’s been…exactly four years since she last lived here, and she could probably still get around the city without even thinking about it.

Except there is no way for her to simply not think about it. This place is so full of world history, the good and the bad, and it’s the same for her personal history. She went to school here, which is something she is still so proud of when she thought that was something she would never do. She got to be someone on her own, someone new who was making something of herself. She fell in love here after meeting Neal at a bar when she was still too young to meet men at bars, but, really, they probably fell in love at the Little Red Fox café on the corner of Connecticut Avenue. The name of the place had been so ridiculous, but it’s where Neal took her on their first official date and charmed her by telling her all about his adventures overseas.

This city is where she had this great love story that she was so swept up in that she didn’t see the things about it that didn’t make it so great. But it was full of so much goodness, and she can’t forget about that. Sha can’t forget about the years that Neal made her happy. She can’t forget that he’s the one who has given her Henry.

She can’t forget.

She also can’t forget that this is the place where her world fell apart, where she was told that her husband was missing, where she was told that he was most likely dead, where she believed that he was dead. This is the place where she realized that she’d be raising their son by herself.

This is the place.

It’s also where she met Killian, where she let him support her, where she fell in love with him.

So being back here is jarring and a bit…she doesn’t know how she feels as their car drives through crowded streets, avoiding all of the downtown traffic and tourist areas as much as possible. The weirdest thing, though, is that Neal is here, in this city, and that he’s coming back.

She thought he was gone forever, and he’s not.

He’s here. He’s here. He’s here.

And yet he’s leaving she and Henry again. This time by choice. It’s another thing that she doesn’t completely understand, but she’s trying to be as supportive as she can. He’s been through so much, and he needs to be happy. She needs him to be happy.

“Is this where you’re gonna live?” Henry asks as they walk into their hotel, the high ceiling vaulted up as light filters through the windows.

“No, I’m going to live in an apartment,” Neal tells him, taking his hand and walking with Henry as they make their way to the front desk. “I might live in a hotel for a little while until I can move my things in, not that I really have things yet.”

“I’ll draw you a picture that can go on your wall.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

Neal checks them into their rooms for the week. They’ve got a bed for Henry in their room, as did Neal, so he’ll be switching between the rooms this week. She has a feeling that he’ll only stay one night with Neal before he freaks out being away from her, but who knows? He could surprise her. He tends to do that, especially as he’s growing up and becoming a bit braver in the things that he does.

She’s got a good kid. She’s proud of the way she’s raised him.

Once they get into the room, she simply puts all of Ada’s bags on the ground and gets out what she needs to change her diaper while Killian unpacks their clothes and puts them in the closet and the dresser. He’s quite possibly the only person she knows who does that at hotels, but she’s learned not to tease him about it. It gets him all huffy and rushed, so she lets him put their things away. Besides, he’s the one who packs them all up again, so it’s not like it causes any extra stress for her.

It's actually more convenient, not that she’d ever admit that.

-/-

“Killian,” she moans when his tongue runs over her most sensitive spot, her hips arching into the air as much as she can with the extra weight that’s weighing her down. “Oh shit, oh shit. That, keep doing that.”

He growls against her core, the vibrations running over every inch of her body, but like instructed, he doesn’t change a thing. He keeps flicking his tongue against her flesh, kissing her with his lips and his tongue and his teeth. God, he’s so good at this. It’s unfair. Like, he should not be this good, but she’s really not going to complain when she gets to be the recipient. And slowly but surely her release starts to unfurl, moving from her center and outward as she melts into the bed and the blankets that her hands are holding onto for dear life.

This is good. Wonderful. Fantastic.

She’d really like for him to do that again and again and again.

But she’s really hungry.

Before she can raise her head from her pillow, Killian’s moving up her body, kissing her inner thigh, the skin still sensitive, and moving up her stomach and to her breasts, lightly kissing the rounded curves before he’s gently dragging his teeth up her neck. Finally he lands on her lips, lazily kissing her mouth all the while his hands keep moving at her breasts and down her stomach.

She might actually become one with this hotel bed if this keeps going on like this.

There would be no complaints coming from her, even if her back hurts a little bit.

So that’s a little complaint.

“You are the most glorious woman I have ever known,” he murmurs against her lips before dragging his teeth over her jaw. “Everything from the way you moan my name when you come undone to the way that your right pinky toe is a little oddly shaped.”

“Your kid might have that pinky toe.”

“And it’ll be my favorite of all of her toes,” he sighs before rolling off of her and onto his back.

“Do I – do we – ”

“No,” he answers before she can even finish the question, the mattress moving underneath her as Killian sits up and nudges her head over onto his stomach. “Your stomach has been growling like mad, and you apparently need to eat again. I can have my turn later, or not at all, but you need to eat.”

“A man who puts food over sex. Are you the perfect man? Have I finally found you?”

She sees the blush rise on his cheeks before he’s reaching down and playfully pinching her nose before his hands starts running over her stomach, tracing the curve that’s been driving her crazy lately. She’s happy, but damn, pregnancy is a bitch.

The miracle of life or whatever.

“I’m possibly the furthest thing away from perfect,” Killian whispers, and she looks up in time to see the tick of his jaw as his gaze moves from her stomach to the ceiling. “You know that.”

“Hey,” she sighs, placing her hands over his and holding him to where Ada is kicking. The tiny little flutters have turned into full on sucker punches, but they’re gentle enough right now. When it’s three in the morning, that will be another story. “Killian Jones, I love you. You are my best friend on this planet, and I choose to see the best in you every day just like you do to me.”

“I know but I – Emma, you know me. You know my past. I used to drink too much, to sleep with too many women, to aide in killing others with my job. I – I’m not the perfect man.”

She’s aware of the face that she’s still naked, that her body is still completely exposed to him when he’s still mostly clothed, but her vulnerability doesn’t seem anything like the one that she’s suddenly found Killian in.

“I was kidding, babe. I – ” She slowly moves to sit up, shuffling around the bed until she can face him, tugging a blanket up around her shoulders as her sweat dries and the air conditioning begins to chill her. Killian’s still looking away, his jaw still ticking, and her worry keeps building until he tangles their fingers together. “I know you’re not perfect. Neither of us are. What’s running through that head of yours?”

“It’s idiotic, Swan. Drop it.”

“I’m not going to drop it when you’re obviously hurting.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he barks, and she practically flinches, releasing his hand and scooting away from him while tears well in her eyes, one quickly escaping and rolling down her cheek.

“Killian – ”

“I’m going to take a shower.” He quickly gets up from the bed and moves to the bathroom, closing the door behind him as the water immediately turns on, the pipes rumbling to life all the while she’s still confused as to what the hell just happened.

What the hell did just happen?

She doesn’t…Killian literally just spent minutes with his head buried between her thighs after they went out to dinner and for a walk around the city, and then they were…talking. They were talking, weren’t they? They were talking about food because her stomach is somehow still growling, and then he…then he got pissed and stormed into the bathroom.

Now she’s sitting naked in the bed with her thighs still tingling a bit and tears rolling down her face because she’s seven months pregnant and has no idea what’s happening. None, and she can’t seem to figure it out even as she gets up off of the bed and goes to the dresser to grab a pair of pajama shorts and one of Killian’s t-shirts since most of hers don’t fit her right now. Well, they do, but they’re not oversized anymore.

They’re only in this hotel for a night so that they can have this mini babymoon, something she finds a little ridiculous, but when David and Mary Margaret offered to take Henry so she and Killian could have some time to themselves, she accepted it without question. Why Killian put away their clothes when they’re only here for a night, she doesn’t really know. She thought maybe he only did that when they were staying in a hotel for a long time.

She thought she was going to want more time, but since she and Killian are apparently now in an argument, she doesn’t know if she even wants tonight. It’s not like there’s anywhere either of them can go besides the bedroom or the bathroom.

Ada kicks in her stomach at the same time that it growls, and she presses her hand down on the spot where she seems to be determined to burst through skin. It’s so uncomfortable, but considering she gets nervous when she’s not kicking, she’ll take it.

“Are you hungry, bug?” she wonders aloud, wandering over to the menu that room service offers and flipping it open. “Mommy is hungry and kind of feeling like eating everything down in this kitchen. Would you be okay with that? Would you give me heartburn if I did that?”

She keeps talking to her stomach as she continues to flip through the menu, eventually ordering a cheeseburger and some onion rings plus a salad and some fruit for Killian since she knows the he probably doesn’t want food but she feels bad not getting anything for him. She’ll share if he does want something. It’s too expensive for her to order him something he might not eat.

Maybe she should have gotten him an omelet or something.

No, no. it’s fine. This is what he would want. It’s exactly what he would do, and she closes the book and refuses to think that she’s somehow messed up again, not that she’s entirely sure that she messed up the first time.

She’s not really sure of anything right now.

Scratch that.

She’s sure that she has to pee.

Of course she has to pee. She’s pregnant. She always has to pee, but of all the times, couldn’t her bladder have waited when her the only available bathroom is the one her boyfriend is currently sulking in?

Maybe she could go down to the lobby.

The thought alone has her bladder practically scream at her, and before she can think too much about it, she’s opening the bathroom door, thankful that Killian didn’t lock it, and wandering inside so that she can pee.

“Swan, what are you – ”

“Going to the bathroom,” she huffs, sitting down all the while she can see Killian showering through the glass pane. Usually it’d be an attractive site, but she’s miserable and mad and doesn’t care what he looks like with water dripping down the muscles of his torso.

Killian doesn’t say anything else, and she ignores the feel of his eyes on her until she’s up and washing her hands. She’s got mascara running down her cheeks, and she takes the time to wipe it off and make herself look like less of a deranged raccoon while the shower water shuts off and Killian steps out, a towel resting low on his hips as he dries his hair off.

Dammit. He’s really hot.

“Swan, you’re going to rub that skin dry if you keep doing that.”

“My eyeliner won’t come off.”

“You’ve got to – ”

“I know how to remove makeup,” she bites back, all of her anger and confusion that she’s been stewing in for the past few minutes coming to life over her eyeliner.

“Darling – ”

“No,” she cries, dropping her cloth and turning to look up at him, trying to straighten her back as much as she can to make herself taller, “you don’t get to storm off all upset and leave me confused and then try to comfort me and be sweet to me. That’s not how this works.”

“How does it work? You get to be in charge and you get to yell at me for needing time?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s what you said.”

“Why are you upset?” She slaps her hands against her thighs before bringing them up to wipe at her cheeks as more tears fall. “We were talking about food, and then you…then you left. Why?”

Killian looks up at the ceiling, his jaw visibly clenching, and she watches as a drop of water from his hair trails down his cheek and falls to his balled-up fist. “You called me perfect.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

“You called me perfect,” he repeats, looking down to her with glassy blue eyes, sadness practically brimming to the surface. “You called me – ” He reaches up and runs his hand over his jaw, his fingers tapping against his chin, and she has to focus on her breathing to calm herself down before she sobs again. “I know that it was in jest, love, that it was a throwaway statement, but I’ve been struggling a bit lately with some of my issues, especially with the baby.”

“Do you not want her?”

The words escape her before she can stop them, her old insecurities and issues coming out as well, but Killian doesn’t let her spiral before he’s pulling her into his embrace as much as he can, the warmth of his chest and arms enveloping her as her chest heaves and she has to stop herself from heaving her dinner.

“I want her more than anything,” he promises, the words spoken directly in her ear so that the vibrations of his voice ghost down her spine. “I want you more than anything, Henry too. I don’t want you to ever doubt that, and if I do, I’m not doing my job.”

“What’s wrong then?”

“I’m scared, Emma,” he whispers, his hand rubbing up and down her back while hers stay still on his, the fear practically paralyzing her. “I had a shit excuse of a father and then again with my step-father, so I have no examples as to how a man should treat his children or his wife…his partner. I know you and Henry love me, that you both think the world of me, but I’m not perfect. I make mistakes all of the time, and I’m terrified that I’m going to do that with our child so that I let both you and her down.”

“Killian,” she sighs, the damn tears stinging in her eyes again while she pulls back and reaches up to cup his face, holding his gaze to hers, “you’re not going to. Of course you’re going to mess up. We both are. We’ve done it with Henry, and look how good he is. You’re not perfect, but I promise I’d never ask you to be. I love you just as you are, and if you keep on loving me and our kids in the same way that you already do, everything will be fine.”

There’s a knock on the door, and Killian’s brow raises before she lets him go and backs up.

“Room service,” she explains, quickly exiting the bathroom to open the door and get their tray of food, setting it down on the little desk that’s in the room.

Killian steps out of the bathroom as well and makes his way to the dresser so that he can slip on some pajama pants, the plaid now covering his legs, before he walks toward the tray and lifts the lid on it.

“I’m guessing the salad isn’t for you.”

“It’s yours if you want it. I knew you wouldn’t want a big meal because we did just eat dinner, but I didn’t want to not get you anything. And I’ll share.”

“Aye,” he laughs, reaching down and picking up an onion ring before taking a large bit, “you will. Thank you, love.”

“Do you want to,” she starts, looking up at him with her lips pressed together while Ada kicks her stomach, “sit on the bed and eat to talk some more? I know this is not how we imagined our night, but I think we have some stuff to talk about.”

“I’d like that.”

-/-

They don’t stay in the hotel for long, really only staying for enough time to unpack, before they’re all walking back outside and finding a metro stop so that they can make their way to dinner. She doesn’t miss riding the metro, especially now that she thinks of all of the germs that Henry can pick up from holding onto the polls and that Ada can pick up from simply existing, but this is the best way to get around when they don’t want to walk enough to work up a sweat. Henry may very well think it’s the coolest thing in the world, though, so she has an even stronger feeling they’ll be riding it all week.

“How’s it feel to be back?” Neal asks her as they walk the rest of the way to the Bulletin, nearly echoing Killian’s words from earlier.

“Weird,” she answers honestly, reaching forward to grab Henry’s hand so he doesn’t wander off into the street. “I think it’ll get weirder the more places we go. Is that what it was like when you first started coming back?”

“To be fair, every place has been weird for me to come back to.” Neal flashes her his boyish smile, even with the gray in his beard, before she laughs and pats his forearm. “But yeah, it definitely was, but the first thing I did was go to that dessert place, Captain Cookie – ”

“ – and the Milkman,” she finishes for him, practically groaning as she tugs Henry back and looks behind her to make sure they haven’t lost Killian as he carries Ada. “That place was the best. We’ll have to take you there, kid.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s got cookies and superheroes,” Neal tells him. “You’d love it. There’s a lot of good places to eat we’ll have to take you after we go to the museums.”

“Daddy said there’s a museum where I can be a spy.”

“That’s a good one. We can go there. There’s also the Smithsonian, which has a lot of things you can see like space shuttles and superhero costumes from the movies. I bet there’s even some ships that you can see that are like the ones Killian and I used to work on.”

“Can we go on a real ship?”

“We can maybe go on one that’s in the museum,” Neal explains, pointing to the restaurant just ahead of them, “but we can talk about it after we eat, okay?”

-/-

The first three days of their vacation seem to breeze by as they hit as many sights for Henry as they possibly can. Between the three of them they’re able to tell him a lot of the history behind monuments, even if they have to make it as kid friendly as possible for some things. They eat enough junk food to last her for months, and if it wasn’t for all of this walking, she’s sure that she would have gained at least ten pounds. But it’s a vacation, she has to remind herself, even if she doesn’t feel relaxed. Everything she eats isn’t going to be one of Killian’s homecooked meals where things are a little healthier than normal. It’s not going to kill her to indulge in a giant ice cream sandwich that she couldn’t possibly finish eating before it melts.

Besides, it’s not like she’s the most healthy eater anyways. There’s simply usually more of a balance.

But it’s a vacation.

Plus, even Killian got himself a milkshake, and he somehow managed to get a little of it on his beard. He’s not a messy eater, at all, so she enjoyed that even if he got a little flustered by it.

The dork.

On Wednesday Neal gets them access to a tour of part of the Truman building so Henry can kind of see where he’s going to be working with the State Department. It’s interesting for her, but she can tell that Henry is bored out of his mind, so they quickly leave and make their way to the zoo. Of all the places for Henry to want to go while they’re here, she was not expecting the zoo, if only because they’ve been to enough zoos in his lifetime. But it’s what he wants, and he has a good time as they wander the paths to go to the different exhibits.

Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!

Mostly pandas, though. Okay, so just two pandas that Henry spends a lot of time looking at, and she just knows that they’re going to leave this place with an expensive stuffed animal from one of the gift shops. It’s fine. This is a vacation, and she wants Henry to be happy. Besides, this zoo is all about wildlife restoration and preservation, so hopefully he’ll learn a few things too. She thinks that’s what Killian is trying to teach him as he reads the little information guides next to all of the exhibits.

Ada starts crying in her stroller, and before it can get too loud, Emma squats down and unstraps her, picking her up and holding her to her chest as they sway back and forth. She needs to eat soon. They all do, which means they need to leave the panda exhibit at some point today.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” she soothes, rubbing her hand down Ada’s back. “You’re okay. We’re going to go inside soon and you can eat and take a nap. It’ll all be okay.”

“Do we need to go, love?” Killian asks her, walking away from the window and toward her.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Henry,” Neal starts, “let’s go get something to eat. We can look at the pandas again later.”

Henry grumbles a bit, but he listens, joining them as they look for somewhere that’s not too crowded to eat. Plus somewhere that has some shade. It’s not terribly hot here, but she’s worried about Henry getting too much sun even with all of the lotion that she’s applied.

“Neal,” someone calls, and they all stop walking to turn to see a man slowly jogging their way before he stops in front of Neal. “Neal Gold? Mate, it’s so nice to see you! What’s it been? Three years?”

“Um, I think you have the wrong guy, man,” Neal explains, flashing him a smile while Ada starts babbling to her.

“No, it’s Kyle Thomasson. We used to watch football matches at the Three Kings in London. You were in there nearly every Thursday night.”

“My last name is Cassidy,” Neal explains as he holds his hands up. “You’ve probably seen my face on TV and got a little confused. It happens to me all of the time. It’s nice to meet you, though.”

“Are you sure because I – ”

“Dada,” Ada gurgles, and she nearly drops her child, all of her focus now on the fact that she just said her first word.

“Killian,” Emma gasps, looking over to him as his gaze stays on Neal and his conversation, jaw clenching. “Killian,” she repeats, grabbing his arm until he looks at her.

“What, love?”

“Ada just said her first word.”

“Truly?” he chuckles, one hand falling on her back while the other lands on Ada’s arm. His eyes are so blue and happy, and he doesn’t even know that she said his name first.

“Ada, will you say it again? Will you say Dada again, bug?”

Ada doesn’t seem to care that they’re waiting for a repeat performance because she goes back to holding her hand to her mouth and biting down on her fingers while she tries to coax it out of her. She needs for the kid to say it again so Killian can hear, but she knows that it likely won’t happen. That’s how it was for Henry too.

“She really said my name?” Killian asks, his voice almost in a state of bewilderment as his fingers run up Ada’s arm.

“She said Dada, clear as day.” She presses up on her toes to kiss the corner of Killian’s lips. “She’ll say it again, I’m sure. And if not, you’ll annoy her enough with it until she does.”

“I will not.”

“You most definitely will.”

“Mom,” Henry groans, and her eyes dart to him as he’s practically laid out on a fence, “I thought we were going to eat.”

“We are, we are. Your sister just said her first word.”

“Was it that she’s hungry?”

“Talk about some sass, kid,” she laughs, handing Ada to Killian so that hopefully he can hear her speak before she moves up to walk next to Henry, letting him push the empty stroller as the man Neal was talking to walks away, obviously finally accepting that he was talking to the wrong person.

Most of their afternoon is spent at the zoo so that Henry can go through all of the exhibits again, and when they leave, he has a stuffed panda toy and at least three books about all of the different animals he saw today. Ada has a little stuffed giraffe too, but that’s mostly because Killian is an absolute sucker and had to get her something too. She suspects that it’s because their daughter’s first word was Killian’s name and not hers. That’s something she’s going to be hearing for awhile, but that’s okay. Henry said her name first, and even if she was his only parent for a long time, that still means the world to her.

And he eventually got around to having a dad…and then another one. He’s a lucky kid.

Even though her feet are starting to get tired from spending the day walking around, they hop on the metro and make their way to the Potomac Park so that they can show Henry a few more memorials. The cherry blossoms are in bloom, too, so she’s kind of excited to see those as she pushes Ada’s stroller in front of her while the kid naps.

She’s living the life being able to go on a sightseeing vacation but never having to walk. Maybe in the morning they’ll spend a little extra time in the hotel so that Ada can crawl around and stand propped up against the chairs to get her energy out. Maybe they’ll spend some extra time in the hotel so that they can sleep in a little bit and rest. She tries to work out pretty regularly, but man can vacation take a lot out of her when she feels like she hasn’t sat down in days. Henry’s dragging too, so maybe tomorrow will be a relaxed day.

“You see that spot up there?” Neal points out to Henry, guiding his gaze up to a small benched area next to the river, some of the early cherry blossoms having bloomed over the pathway.

“It’s just a seat.”

“You’d think that, but that’s the spot where I asked your mom to marry me.”

Her step falters for a moment, her feet nearly tripping over her sneakers, and if she didn’t have Ada’s stroller to hold her up, she might fall to the ground. And if the burning in Killian’s eyes is any indication, he’s noticed. Of course this is the spot. She knew that. How could she forget? That was one of the happiest moments of her life. But she didn’t think that they were coming here when Neal told Henry that he knew one of the best views in the city.

Her tiredness has obviously made her forget. It’s been a big, exhausting day. She probably still smells like the elephants.

“Really? Right there?”

“Right there. I got down on one knee and asked your mom to marry me, and she said yes before she hugged me.”

“You’re not married anymore, though,” Henry points out, his voice staying at such an equal volume. He doesn’t understand the complexity of what he’s talking about, doesn’t understand the emotions. She doesn’t even understand the emotions herself. “You could always ask her again.”

Neal and Killian both let out a loud cough, the words obviously shocking them both. They’ve shocked her too, but mostly, she’s relieved that she doesn’t have to be the one to answer the hard question for once. She’s been answering them for eight, almost nine, years, and she’s going to let Neal answer this one, especially when he kind of led himself into it.

She doesn’t think she can speak with the way Killian’s eyes are still burning into her skull either. He’s been doing that a lot this afternoon, but she’s mostly thought it was because he got to experience Ada’s first word (kind of) when he usually misses so much because of work. His look now is obviously to see if she’s okay.

She’s not entirely sure if she is.

“Henry,” Neal sighs, squatting down in the middle of the path despite the fact that they’ll block foot traffic, “I love your mom a lot, but she and I aren’t going to get married again, okay? She’s with Killian, with your daddy, and one day they might get married just like one day I might marry someone else. But that doesn’t mean that you’re not going to be our awesome kid and that we’re going to stop doing fun things like this.”

“Are you going to get married to someone who you meet here? In your new home?”

Neal shrugs, looking back at her and flashing her an amused grin. He’s doing a really good job at handling this. He probably shouldn’t have pointed out his proposal spot to Henry, but that was an easy mistake. He likely wanted Henry to know some of his history, some of their history. He should know that his parents were in love once, and this is a nice way for Neal to handle talking about it. He’s doing so well being a father and helping Henry understand that he’s not going to be around as much as he is now, and she’s so dang proud of him and proud of how he’s adjusting back to normal life. She’s proud of how he’s changed since they were together.

“I don’t know. I haven’t met her yet, but if I do, I promise that you can meet her too.”

“Do you think she’ll want to go eat pizza with us?”

“I know she will.”

“Awesome.”

Neal stands from the ground and wraps his arm around Henry’s shoulder, guiding them back into the crowd and along the pathway while Killian does the same to her, nudging her along so that she starts pushing the stroller again.

“Are you okay, darling?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she promises, sniffling the slightest bit. She’s mostly okay, but she also just watched Neal get to be a dad to their kid in a spot that is important to her, to them. That’s something she dreamed about for a long time, both when she felt alone when she was pregnant and when she actually was alone after Neal…died - disappeared. She’s always wanted Henry to have this relationship with his dad, and now he has it. It makes her heart ache but in a good way. “I knew coming back here would bring back a lot of memories, but I wasn’t expecting any of that conversation to happen.”

“Me either,” he whispers, his voice cracking the slightest bit.

It’s not something she’s proud of, especially with how much she trusts Killian, but she’s been worried about him. He’s been acting odd recently. He’s more reserved, his emotions bottled up, but whenever she’s about to say something about it, he lets her in, let’s her see what he’s thinking. They’ve been working so damn hard to fix them, to make them better. Their love has never been easy, even when it was, and she wants to fight for it. She knows Killian does too, but that doesn’t mean that she can’t worry. He’s bottled up things before about being a dad, about messing things up, and even when she feels like she knows everything about him, he surprises her.

That’s likely a good thing that they always have things to learn about each other.

And this conversation has started to drudge up the feelings she’s been hiding below the surface as well, her own little bottled up thoughts. Marriage has never been a “must have” for them. How they are has been good, and especially with how her first marriage went, she was hesitant at first. But she hasn’t been hesitant about it in years now. She’s known that it’s what she wants, has talked to Killian about it. She knows that he wants it too, that the ring is still resting in his uniform pocket. It hasn’t moved since she found in three months ago.

Has he changed his mind again? Does he not want to be with her anymore? Legally, at least. Is she too much? Are her relationships too much? Is she not enough?

Her demons are the ones telling her these things, the ones attacking her mind, and as open as she and Killian are trying to be with each other, she doesn’t want to blurt out “why the hell won’t you marry me?”

She’d definitely sound crazy, and a part of her doesn’t want to ruin his plans again like she must have done the first time. It’s Killian. He has to have a plan. He always does. He’s the most thoughtful man in the world, and he would think something like this through.

But why hasn’t he asked?

Why is she freaking out? Why is she thinking there’s some kind of wall between them when it’s just him and her, no walls, no secrets?

Why is she doing this now when they’ve had a really good day? When their daughter has had a monumental day and their son is having a great trip?

“I love you, you know,” Killian adds, pressing his lips into her temple as they walk under the cherry blossoms, the reflection of the Jefferson monument shining in the water.

“I do. I love you.”

“And I’m sorry for all of the negative thoughts that your mind is currently running through.” She almost protests, but he soldiers on. “Ah, don’t try to deny it, Swan. I know you. You’re doing a million and one ‘what if’ scenarios right now because of what just happened. Don’t do that.”

“I’m scared that we’re going to mess Henry up more than we already have.”

Killian doesn’t say anything for a long time, the two of them walking side by side in something between companionable silence and awkward silence, but then he speaks, his voice audibly broken even though she can tell that he’s trying to hide it.

“I won’t let that happen. The rest of my life is going to be spent protecting the three of you and giving you the best life possible. No matter what.”

#rising from the ashes #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

105 notes · View notes

bentenharuki · 4 years

Text

I generally don’t do these but...

I will do this because it’s a badge of honor and a thank you for @todayintokyo who gives me a daily vibe out of my second fav Country in the world (first one is my own, of course. My messy, chaotic, genius Italy).

So for everyone interested (I won’t tag people either... if you are among my 250+ readers, do it as freely as you like to share this unexpected hard time along others. Sharing makes us all feel less stranded I guess :))

1. Are you staying home from work/school? Yep. My University (Milano Bicocca) holds in-house lessons and curses and also exams and testing are/will be online. What I miss most are the lab works and the exchanges with foreign schools. I took one a few months ago in London and I was supposed to have another in May but... NOPE, of course.

2. If you’re staying home, who’s there with you? I am alone in my apartment. At first it was supposed to be shared rent with somebody else but then my parents just bought this out and lent it to me. I know. I am spoiled. But very grateful for what I have. I always try to give back the best I can because no one has merits in being born in a family instead of another. (pieces of second-rate philosophy in all my LONG answers courtesy of my mum and her influence on me. She’s a University Professor and her field is.. guess what.. ETHICS PHILOSOPHY)

3. Do you have pets to keep you company? Nope. Not allowed. But I like cats. Cats. CATS. They are elegant, refined, very clean, and they give you consideration and affection ONLY if they like you. I prefer to conquer somebody’s love instead than to have it by default. Then I am naturally a cat person instead of a dog’s. But I like all animals (I like snakes as well, so my range is pretty wide ;)), even though I don’t feel missing any in house. Generally I would be out of home most of the day and no pet would be happy in staying that much alone. I miss my grandparents’ kitty tho :)

4. Who do you miss the most? Family. Friends. Meeting new people when out. And... (is it fine to say it?) Well... in these lockdown times I miss... human touch. (You get what kind). I was seeing a guy when this all started and my old boyf also came back into the picture somehow. All on hold. And I avoid to think how that makes me feel because even in case I’d figure it out, what comes if one can’t act on the awareness? Exactly. So I put it all in a LONG pause. But yeah... I miss contacts. A LOT.

5. When was the last time you left your home? I go out every Thursday to buy all my grocery stuff. I am very methodic. My supermarket is pretty near and it’s BIG and I get there right before it opens (well... one hour almost before it opens, so I can be among the firsts in line). I look like a ninja: very sporty and technically dressed (like for a running competition!) with clothes and shoes which are easy washable, tech mask (it is for cycling competition, with filters specifically medical: the mask is washable as well after you’ve used it, while the filter is obviously not), cotton fit gloves and over them medical gloves (I can’t wear directly medical gloves because my skin is very sensitive and I suffer from nickel allergia, which makes latex gloves a NO NO directly on skin), teck googles which cover also the side of my face (those are from cycling items too) and of course PODS in my ear because I can’t live without music :)

6. What was the last thing you bought? I bought online a few garden tools for my biggest balcony. I have ZERO skill with plants (and I am supposed to become a biologist... the nerve! LOL) but I am keen at making grow at least rosemery for my recipes. I have a little peach tree and it is all fine so far. I have hope I can do better and anyway I have time now ;)

7. Is quarantine driving you insane or are you finally relaxed? I try to keep my routine as it was before. I wake up and perform all my tasks exactly as I was doing before this all started. I am VERY organized and to lax on that would ruin me, so I carefully focus on what I can control the best I can. It feels strange to say it maybe but... this way my mood isn’t particularly affected by this heavy revolution in my (and everyone elses’s) life.

8. Are you a homebody? NOPE. I love people, I love my Milan and its being always full of people everywhere. I love living in my town a TON, I love meeting friends anywhere, go dancing, I love to live my University life in this beautiful and renewed part of Milan; I like being surrounded by my people and meeting new ones. So being stuck at home would seem insufferable for me. But I learnt from this (there’s always something to learn in any experience) that I can be surprisingly ok with staying home too. I came to know better my neighbors. I feel a sense of community with everyone living nearby and I have come to love my domesticity too. It was a surprise for me first ^.^

9. What movies have you watched recently? In Italy, Italia 1 channel has had the WONDERFUL idea to rebroadcast all Harry Potter saga every Monday and Thursday. Today and tomorrow there are the last two installments, so I can say that is what I looked out the most for as in movie things these past weeks (funny how I never particularly adored the books of HP, I mean, I liked them but... being a Tolkien’s devotee Rowlings’ literary efforts always seemed lackluster to me.. and still I have always liked the movies. It’s incoherent I know ;)). But I have Sky at home so I can watch whatever movie I like to whenever I want to. And that leads to VERY little watch actually. I am reading a ton though. I watch what passes on in the National channels actually, out of digital and cable and decide to watch it or not. For instance last Friday Rai 1 (main Italian Channel) broadcasted one of my fav movies from the past three years, GIFTED (with Chris Evans and Octavia Spencer) and I rewatched it with immense pleasure.

10. An event that you were looking forward to that got cancelled? OLYMPICS. I was supposed to be back in Japan with a a couple of friends and my bro for experience the Olympics (especially the volleyball tournaments) between July and August and that got (of course) cancelled. We plan to move it all to next year of course. But it hurts SO MUCH because it was easily what I was looking forward to BEST for all 2020. Hands down.

11. What’s the best and worst thing you’ve had to cancel? Look up. For the other question, I never plan things I don’t like (or at least I try my best not to) and I almost never find myself in the position of being happy for something I had going on which I had to pass due to circumstances. I am a very honest (sometimes to the point of bluntness, though with age I got trained in the fine art of diplomacy, which for me is declined especially in the “IGNORE WHAT IS NOT WORTHY degree) person and if there is something I don’t like I tend to not get involved with it in the first place.

12. Do you have any new hobbies? Eh... the longest list... I love so many things. Sport don’t count as hobbies to me because I treat them as part of my daily life constantly. So take them off. I like to write, to draw, to paint... I like reading, I like learning... I am a tech geek; I like gaming (but that I have to cut it or it would absorb me too much)... I like TRAVELING (that is cut off too of course nowadays), and many other things so I guess I don’t literally have SPACE for new hobbies. My many ones makes it impossible to fall for new things though lately I am becoming a better cook out of needs ;)

13. What are you out of? My lists are made as soon my things become “two items in from having 0″. This way I can’t run out of anything. Did I say already I am a HUGE control freak? THAT ;)

14. What music are you listening to? My itunes collections lists so far 12376 ALBUMS. Then I have the random songs. Latest one I bought (because I buy them all) is Achille Lauro’s latest 16 Marzo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yb-9RESbeWA

I am also listening a lot to one of my bro’s fav bands Radiohead and as usual a lot to my beloved Imagine Dragons. My mum and dad are also telling me to listen to Bill Withers (who recently passed away) whole discography because he was amazing. I love many music genres. I love ALL which makes the spirit soar and rage and evolve and love and cry and hope.

15. What are you reading? So far in quarantine I read 5 books. I have now to start ORIGINS by Dan Brown. I pick the books I have left unread randomly and that was the pick this time (people gift me with books constantly because they know I am a bookworm when I have spare time).

16. What are you doing for self-care? Keep loving myself and life and the world exactly the way I used to before this all started.

17. Are you exercising? Yup. Tapis roulant, golf training, stepper (all in my house lucky me) and mat and weight training. I have a routine for which I have to train at least one hour a day. NO EXCEPTION. I miss swimming but I will do. I am also in recovery after January’s knee meniscus intervention so my schedules are also taking that into consideration.

18. How’s your toilet paper supply? I'm OK. :)

19. Have you made any changes to your hair during quarantine? Nope. I love to stylize my hair but I don’t have specific cuts. It grows long and then I play with them hairstyles: braids, buns, ponytails, partitions and the likes.. But I have bleached hair and I had to follow my hairdresser advice because I can’t allow ugly roots to take dominance of me ^.^ So I bought the necessary to self bleach them. No need to say as soon as I will be able to, Hairdressers and Massages and SPA will be my first destination ^.^ (beside visiting family and friends of course).

I am fairly sure I put lots of typos and mistakes in this but I have my online lesson just starting in 8 minutes and I can’t review this (I generally never do it anyway). So forgive me and have a beautiful day ;)

STAY SAFE OUT THERE!!! Hugs K.

#ask list #wow my first one #and probably my last #covid19 #quarantine #lockdown #italy #milan #tag your friends #coronavirus

3 notes · View notes

scgdoeswhat · 5 years

Text

One Drink - Beckett x Clarette (F!MC)

Summary: Clarette persuades Beckett to do something other than study on a Saturday night.

Rating: M

Words: 3832

Author’s Notes: This has been sitting in my drafts for almost a month before finally polishing it up. It takes place sometime during the Fall Semester, a bit canon divergent since Chapter 8 happened. Beckett doesn’t belong to me (unfortunately), but the story does. No Beta used.

Sorry if the “Read More” link isn’t working. It’s Tumblr’s fault, not mine!

Tag list: @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @grungeisntmything @friendlylilshipper @felmasri @numberonepoetryexpert @hellomynameisdeviblaire @beckettbaguette @siegrrun @choicesthatplayyou @retroangxl @askdana @50shadesofgrayx @darley1101 @kamybelen-blog @herdecisions @artchoicesreblog @teenytinymagician @choicesfannatalie @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @abigailpoe @flyawayboo @brightpinkpeppercorn @gardeningourmet @harringtons-honey @manateemilk @queenodysseia @thatcatlady0716 @divergentofhogwarts @pottershat @topsyturvy-dream @choicesyouplayandmore @zeniamiii @never-neverland

Please let me know if you want to be tagged/removed on future fics and I’ll tag anyone I may have missed in the comments. Thank you!

The Penderghast watchtower chimed, its bells reverberating to signal the 10 o’clock hour on a balmy, autumn, Saturday evening. Clarette LeFleur stood outside the room of one Beckett Harrington, puffing out a quick breath before smoothing down her outfit.

‘What’s the worst that could happen? He says no. No harm, no foul. Anyway, this is a last-minute thing and it’s not his scene. But since we’re friends, it’s totally normal that I’d invite him along.’ She psyched herself up, resolute in her actions. ‘Right. Let’s do this.’

Before her nerve could take off down the hall in a sprint, she gently rapped on the door, a sunny smile gracing her face as soon as the man in question appeared in front of her. It took every fiber of her being not to openly gawk at him, especially as he neglected to throw a shirt on before opening the door.

Beckett stared at her, mouth agape. It was not often he was left speechless, but he found himself grasping for words as he took in her appearance. He couldn’t help himself as his eyes roved over her; from the curve of her neck, to her black, satin spaghetti strap mini dress, and all the way down her long legs, which were accentuated by how short the piece of clothing was.

She felt her skin heat up under his attentive gaze, silently thanking Shreya for letting her borrow the designer dress. Breaking the silence, she cleared her throat. “So, are you going to invite me in, or are we having this conversation out here?”

Running a hand through his hair, he snapped out of the trance he had been in. “Yes, sorry. Please, come in.” He stepped aside, inhaling deeply after she passed by him.

Clarette looked around his sanctum, taking note of the books on the desk, one of which was opened to a spell they had learned earlier in the week. His room was uncharacteristically tidy for someone his age, but she wouldn’t have expected anything less from him. The air had a clean and crisp smell, yet it was definitely masculine. The scent was distinctively Beckett.

“Mind if I take a seat?”

“Go ahead, you can sit – “ he stopped abruptly when she hopped on his bed. He had to stop himself from flinching as he saw the wrinkles on his comforter. “Was there something you needed? Or can I get back to studying for Englund’s course?”

She regarded him, head cocked to the side. “I was thinking about what we talked about that night in the library, what we do for fun.”

His eyes darted to her in a suspicious manner, crossing his arms to emphasize his point. “I’m almost afraid to ask, Clarette.”

“It’s Saturday night and the books are still going to be there tomorrow.” She shrugged before leaning back on her hands. “What do you say you come with me to Mysterium? We’ll meet up with the rest of the gang.”

He glanced over to the books on his desk, then back to her on his bed. Meeting her question with silence, his posture remained motionless, save for the movement of his eyes. Thank goodness he was known to be aloof; otherwise it would have been very apparent that she was unknowingly distracting him.

The lack of response made her fidget. He normally would quip back, but this silence was almost unnerving.

“I’ll make you a deal. You come out with me tonight and we’ll study all day tomorrow.”

“And how is that beneficial for me?”

“Here’s the thing. I have a basic understanding of what we're going over, but there's a few concepts I could use help with. By helping me review, it’ll reinforce it in your mind and I'll get some much-needed help,” she reasoned, her smile a bit too sweet.

He mulled over her offer. “And if I want to leave immediately?”

“One drink. Then if you still want to go, I won't stop you.”

“One drink?”

“One drink.”

“I'll hold you to that.”

“I wouldn't expect you not to. That being said, I think I'll be able to change your mind, Mr. Harrington.”

He smirked, throwing on a collared, dark pewter shirt. "Are you practicing the magic of persuasion, as well?"

Clarette threw her head back and laughed. The sound was so unlike the high-pitched giggles that usually accompanied the girls who tried so hard with him. Instead, he was taken with her melodic timbre, which was so vibrant and he knew that he wanted to hear more of it.

"No, but remember how I told you I won ‘Most Tenacious’ back in high school? That was before I knew I was attuned."

He shot her a slightly questioning eyebrow before turning to his mirror, combing his hair. "Will this suffice for the dress code?"

She appraised him, from his dark jeans to his tailored button down, her mouth slightly curving into a mischievous smile. "I'm almost shocked that you own such a peasant piece of material such as denim."

Beckett stood, stunned, if not offended, until he realized she was teasing him with that glint in her eye.

"...Clarette," he paused, waiting slightly until she squirmed uncomfortably, "I'll have you know us bourgeois folk wear these as well. They just happen to cost a thousand dollars," he replied, struggling to keep a composed face.

She gasped, pretending to clutch at her heart. "Oh. My. God. Did you just make a joke? Stop the presses!" Jumping off the bed, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the door. "Trust me; you've far surpassed any dress code that this place might have."

His smile faltered. "No dress code? What kind of barbaric place are you taking me to?!"

Laughing airily, she led him through his suite’s door to Penn Square. Within minutes, they arrived at the front of the line of Mysterium, the centaur waving them through. The heavy beats of the bass blasted through the speakers, the volume making it hard for Beckett to think. He was starting to regret following the woman who currently was guiding him by the hand through the dim club.

As if she felt his hesitation, Clarette turned around and slowed her pace, the two of them walking in tandem.

"You didn't tell me it was going to be this loud," he yelled over the music.

Putting her hand on his shoulder, he leaned over as she brought her mouth to his ear. "Sorry! I promise it's not that bad in the VIP area!"

He barely registered what she said, instead focusing on the sensation of her hot breath so close to such a sensitive area. They continued past the velvet rope, arriving at the table where Shreya, Zeph, and Griffin sat.

Surprise laced Shreya's face when she saw who Clarette had in tow, followed by a knowing look towards her suitemate. "I never thought I'd see the day where Beckett is out at a club. I guess that's another bottle for the table, then."

Signaling to the server waiting in the wings, a sparkling bottle of Dom Perignon hovered above their table, along with five glasses. Clarette watched, a childlike awe gracing her face, as the bottle poured itself perfectly into each flute, the liquid appearing to glitter with gold.

"I swear, I am never going to tire of that!" Clarette exclaimed as all five long-stemmed glasses gently found their way into each of their hands.

"So much better than having to try and flag down a bartender's attention, that's for sure," Zeph remarked.

"Sure helps having a Mistry in our midst,” Griffin chuckled.

"Oh, I see how it is! All of you are just using me for my connections then!" Shreya faux accused, laughing, before snapping a selfie of herself holding the bejeweled beverage in her hand. "Okay, Clarette, you do the honors. What are we toasting to tonight?"

Clarette tapped her chin thoughtfully, glancing around the table, until her gaze landed on Beckett, who was sitting next to her.

"I'd like to toast to you, for agreeing to come out tonight and be out of your comfort zone." Turning to face him, they locked eyes as she continued, "I'm going to break you out of your shell, just yet. To Beckett!"

They all raised their glasses, taking a drink of the champagne, the bubbles tickling as it went down.

Shreya smiled to herself as she leaned over to Zeph, whispering, "That's not the only thing she wants to break him out of!"

Zeph nearly spit his drink out as he looked across the table.

Beckett observed their surroundings; Clarette wasn't kidding when she said the VIP area was a lot quieter. He noticed an invisible sound barrier filtering the main dance floor and he was thankful he could actually hear himself think. Looking to his right, the girl who had convinced him to come was in conversation with Griffin. He scowled, pangs of jealousy hitting him as Penderghast’s star thief player occupied her attention. Taking a sip, he noticed Shreya across the table, amused at his expression.

A cheeky grin rested on her face. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No," he frowned deeper.

Shreya chuckled, earning his ire. "You know, Beckett," she leaned across the table, “there is a reason why she brought you here."

His eyes darted over to Clarette, who was giggling at something Griffin said. He took another sip, eyes narrowing.

"She only brought me here to have me help her study tomorrow."

Shreya laughed even harder and Beckett could not contain his glare.

"What is so damn funny?"

Calming down, she motioned to him to come closer. "Clarette’s going to kill me if she knew I told you this, but she’s getting A’s in all her classes. She technically doesn't need your help." She leaned back into the couch, a wide, knowing smile on her lips.

Beckett looked at her, dumbfounded. If she didn't need his help, why go through all the trouble of dragging him out? More so, she was getting A’s? She was a complete slacker!

While he was contemplating this new information, he completely missed the daggers Clarette aimed at Shreya. She noticed out of the side of her eye that her roommate had moved closer to talk to Beckett. Jealousy was not a natural part of her personality, but she could not help the brief frown that disappeared just as quickly. There was a natural break in her conversation with Griffin and she took the opportunity to turn back to the man who accompanied her.

Beckett smiled as she faced him. "Do you come here often?"

"How are you liking it so far?"

They asked each other simultaneously, resulting in Clarette giggling while her hand landed on his knee.

"We've been here a few times and just so you know, that sounded like a bad pick up line."

"I didn't mean it like that at all!" he exclaimed, blushing furiously.

"You're lucky you're cute and FYI; if we didn't already know each other, that line probably would've worked," she winked as she stood up, extending her hand. "Come on, dance with me.”

Taking her hand, he stood up and followed her to the dance floor. The music didn't seem as obnoxiously loud as it was earlier when they had first arrived. He attributed it to the alcohol in his system, but even he knew he was lying to himself as he watched Clarette's hip sway in rhythm to the beat.

She led him to the middle of the packed dance floor, where the lack of real estate pushed their bodies together. He swallowed nervously, though Clarette was completely oblivious to the effect she was having on him.

A cocktail waitress squeezed through the crowd with a myriad of multicolored shots, some of which had smoke rising off them while others had literal sparks shooting out of the slender glass vial.

Stopping the server, Clarette turned to Beckett in excitement. "Beckett! Do a shot with me!"

Looking at the swirling colors of alcohol, he raised a suspicious eyebrow. "I think I’ll pass," raising his voice loud enough to be heard over the speakers.

"Okay, I'll let you off the hook this time." Turning to the waitress, she asked, "Which one is better?"

"Tell you what, sweetie. Buy one and I'll give you the other one for free," the blue hued girl replied, winking.

Clarette clapped her hands in delight before reaching into her purse. Beckett gently touched her forearm, getting her attention as he produced a couple coins. "Let me get this. It’s the least I can do for convincing me to go out tonight."

"Thanks, you didn't need to do that!" She double fisted both glasses. “Are you sure you don't want one?"

“Fine," he exasperated exaggeratedly. "YOLO, right?" Picking the smoking shot, he clinked his vial against hers before they both downed the potent beverage. The slim containers dissolved from their hands as he held back a cough from the strength of the libation.

Stepping up to him, she tiptoed to get close to his ear. "That wasn't so bad was it?"

He shook his head, becoming acutely aware of how close she was to him.

"I told you, didn't I? Now, we dance!”

Beckett was almost caught off guard as she draped her arms over his broad shoulders, swaying against him. He had taken a few ballroom lessons growing up at his parents’ insistence, but this type of dancing left him stiff.

Noticing his movements, or lack thereof, Clarette gazed up at him and smiled. "Follow my lead." She turned around, backing into him until there was no space between them.

He let his natural instincts guide him, his body moving innately with hers. She leaned back against his strong chest, gently placing his hands on her hips. She swore she heard him groan while rocking her hips against him and his fingers tightened, bringing her even closer. Burying his nose in her hair, he wasn't sure if he was intoxicated by the smell of her or if it was that damn shot. Whatever it was, he was pretty sure she was being affected too, if her movements were any indication.

They continued dancing in that manner, mirroring the couples surrounding them. He felt himself getting caught up in a haze, mildly aware of how intimate they were acting. Once the realization hit him, he tried to take a step back to create distance between their bodies, only Clarette made sure he wasn't going anywhere.

The strobe lights and fog machines hid the embarrassment coloring his face, but there was no hiding the stiffness in his pants. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on filling his thoughts with the most mundane tasks, willing his body to cooperate with his mind. Instead, her perfume wafted into his senses and there was no denying it; she paused for the briefest of moments, no doubt feeling him pressing into her.

It was impossible for her not to notice how excited he was. Removing his hands from her hips, he was about to excuse himself when she grabbed his hands and placed them back in the same spot as before. She glanced at him over her shoulder, slightly biting her lip with the smallest of smiles.

His breath caught in his throat.

Clarette was definitely grinding against him.

His fingers dug into her hips, involuntarily bringing her closer. The groan that escaped his lips made her shudder as her eyes closed, letting him support her. She didn't know if it was the shot of who knows what or just the exquisite feeling of Beckett, but everything just felt so damn good.

Throwing caution into the wind, she twirled herself around until they were facing each other, her arms around his neck. His arms snaked around her waist, bringing her so close that she was practically riding his leg. Unabashedly rolling her hips forward, she pushed her chest against his, leaving no space between them.

They locked eyes.

"You wanna get out of here?" She asked, her voice laden with desire.

Replying huskily, he nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"Let's go to your suite. You're in a single right? I don't want to be interrupted by Shreya."

How they arrived in his room was a blur, the click of the bedroom door causing both of them to pause momentarily. She glanced at him from under her lashes, lightly licking her lips as his gaze moved from her eyes to her mouth. He cupped her cheek, his thumb rubbing gently, before leaning over and brushing his lips against hers. He pulled back slightly, his eyes opening to gauge her reaction.

Her eyelids fluttered open, her pupils blown wide. Their lips met once more, this time with no hesitation. His hands were seemingly everywhere, first tangled in her thick, dark mane, down to her bottom, then wrapping around her greedily. She pulled him down as they deepened their kiss, her hands roaming over his chest before she clutched at his shirt, displeased that it was in her way.

He was vaguely aware of her unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the ground. Instead, he was relishing how it felt to have her in his arms and how soft her lips were. She broke the contact, only to plant her lips elsewhere. She peppered kisses on his jaw, moving downward, tracing the pulse in his neck with the tip of her tongue. He exhaled loudly as she gently bit his chest, before making her way back up until he once again claimed her mouth with his own. It amazed him how her mouth molded to his and how it felt like trails of fire wherever she touched him.

They tumbled onto his bed, their lips in a continued connection as they made out with her on top of him. She straddled his hips, his hands running up the side of her thighs before resting on her ass. Beckett involuntarily rocked upwards, sending shivers down her spine. He carefully flipped them over and Clarette moaned into his mouth, relishing the pressure of his body on hers. She wrapped one long leg around him, drawing him nearer as he felt the smooth skin of her exposed thigh. He settled between her legs, spreading a delicious warmth through her body. Bringing his hand up, he rested it on her covered breast, lightly squeezing it as he sucked on her neck, leaving a mark.

"Beckett... " She whispered breathlessly into his ear. There was nothing that could compare to the high she was currently on.

Beckett stopped his ministrations and gazed at Clarette, whose lids were closed in ecstasy. He shook his head. There was something wrong with all of this. When he looked down at her again, her heavy-lidded eyes were half open, but the hazy glaze over her dilated pupils was unmistakable. Whoever concocted those shots had slipped a wrongly concocted daydream potion into the drinks.

His larger build allowed him to process the substance quicker than Clarette’s petite frame and she was still obviously under the influence. He felt terrible that he was not able to recognize the signs earlier. The hallucinogenic must have been the only reason she would ever end up in this compromising position with him.

He quickly jumped off the bed, raking a shaky hand through his ruffled hair. She gazed at him in confusion as she absentmindedly ran a hand over her chest.

"Why are you over there? Come back here. I'm not anywhere close to being done with you."

Swallowing thickly, he took in the picture laid out before him. This gorgeous woman was in his bed, sheets crinkled under her, begging for him to come back. If he was a lesser man, he would have easily listened to the head below, but he would not be able to live with himself if their first time was like this - especially if he really had a chance with Clarette. Most of all, it was wrong to take advantage of her in an inebriated state.

She pouted when Beckett made no move to return to bed and it took all his willpower not to go to her when her face fell, eyes glassy and lips quivering.

"Am I still not good enough for you? Is that why?" she asked, blinking back tears.

In an instant, he was by her side, embracing her in his arms, stroking her hair.

"No, that's not it at all. If anything, Clarette, you're too good for me," he murmured, before planting a kiss on her head as she burrowed under his chin.

"Then why won't you sleep with me?”

Exhaling slowly, he pondered how to gently turn her down. "Because you're impaired right now. Our drinks were spiked."

She leaned back, eyes wide with shock, all traces of tears gone.

"And more importantly, I want our first time to be special, not some drug induced hookup that we may not remember. Or even worse, regret.''

She beamed. "So there will be a first time?"

"I sure hope so. But I'd like to take you out on a proper date first if you'll allow me."

Blinking a few times, awareness slowly came back to her as she looked at her surroundings, including Beckett, who was still bare chested and holding her. Her eyes widened in horror, looking straight at him. "Oh God, I'm mortified," she blurted out, a hand covering her face.

His expression dropped. Of course she would be mortified being caught with a nerd like him. Making a move to stand to hide his disappointment, she grabbed his hand and pulled him back down.

"Beckett, I'm sorr-"

"It's fine," He replied sharply, the stiff upper lip demeanor returning. "We can pretend nothing happened and go back to before."

Disappointment laced her eyes as she searched his face. "But what about you taking me out on a first date?"

His jaw dropped in surprise. "You still want to go out with me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because we were both under a spell."

"What was it about the daydream potion? That an ill concocted one makes you act out a fantasy?"

He nodded.

"Well, I think it's pretty telling that we were acting out a fantasy involving us almost having sex," she grinned sheepishly. "So if the offer still stands..."

His face relaxed into a breathtaking smile. "It most certainly does. Clarette, would you like to go out with me?"

Gleaming, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Yes. And I thought you would never ask."

He chuckled, a blush rising on his face. "We're kind of doing this backwards, aren't we?"

"What, you mean us making out in your room and then you asking me out? Totally normal," a bashful smile crossed her face. "Now come on, walk me back to my room. And put a shirt on, unless you really want to give Penderghast something to talk about.”

#beckett harrington #beckett x mc #beckett harrington fanfic #the elementalists #playchoices #the elementalists fanfic #beckett harrington x mc #choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #playchoices fanfic #scg writes

223 notes · View notes

kainissoable · 6 years

Text

Questions for your OCs

I'm answering this from @evilblot instead of the one she tagged me in because I panic when asked to choose between two things. Answering for Arthur and occasionally Temperance because a) some people have heard of them and b) I've been neglecting them recently. 1. What's the maximum length of time you can sit still with nothing to do? Arthur: "If it's been a busy day I can happily sit for half an hour contemplating nothing very much." Tempe: Somewhere between ten and minus five seconds. 2. How easy is it for you to laugh? Arthur: "I'm quite the jovial fellow, although I admit it's often more affectation than genuine." The same as everything else in his life, really. 3. How do you get yourself to sleep at night. Arthur: "A soppy romance novel normally does the job. If there's a man in bed with me I seldom have any interest in sleeping." 4. How easy is it to earn your trust? Tempe: "Easier than I wish was the case." Thoughts of Sanguis came unbidden. 5. What were you told to stop/start doing most as a child? Arthur: "I'm quite certain that my mother shouted 'slow down before you hurt yourself' more than my actual name." Tempe: "Stop daydreaming and start whatever chores I should have been doing." 6. Do you swear? Do you remember your first swear word? Tempe: "I don't remember what it was, but I picked up some interesting language from the men at shearing when I was little... Now I don't swear much." 7. How do you cope with confusion? Arthur: "Work backwards slowly until I find the point things went wrong then try to figure out how. I find it's better to go slowly and methodically in these things." 8. Do you have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a particular order? Arthur: "No clever mental tricks, only a massive rollerdecks of every potential business partner and rival in the city." 9. How do you deal with an itch in a place you can't quite reach? Arthur: "Either a fountain pen, or, for preferences, Faustus." 10. What color do you look best in? (Do they actually look best in that colour?) Arthur gestured his attire. "I'd say grey and blue make me look rather dashing." He was right to think so, but not in thinking it only applied to anything lighter than royal blue. "Green!" Temperance twirled and almost tripped over their own skirt. They would be better served wearing something less gaudy, practically anything really, but a life of near poverty had given then certain views. The moment the newly risen vampire had been given access to jewels, silks and velvet all thoughts of restraint and taste had gone out the window. 11. What animals do you fear the most? Arthur had not been looking forward to this question "...rabbits," he muttered. 12. How do you speak? Is what you say usually though of on the spot or do you rehearse it in your mind first? Arthur thinks everything through carefully before speaking; Tempe doesn't have much of a brain-to-mouth filter and tends to say whatever's on their mind. They grow out if it eventually. 13. What makes your stomach turn? Arthur: "The thought of being found out as..." he shook his head- "of being disinherited or worse because of who I love." 14. Are you easily embarrassed? It's very easy to make Arthur turn beetroot. Tempe's more likely to be the one doing the embarrassing. 15. What embarrasses you? Arthur: "I'm easily flustered by people being affectionate." 16. What is your favourite number? Arthur: "I like the sound of forty seven. It rolls off the tongue." 17. If you were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic love, how would you do it? "If?" Arthur repeated. "If I was asked I'd probably struggle quite badly, certainty without outing myself. How fortunate that you did not in fact ask me to do so." 18. Why do you get up in the morning? Arthur: "Because it isn't socially acceptable to get up mid afternoon." 19. How does jealous manifes itself in you? Arthur: "I do tend to get somewhat... posessive when it comes to partners. I have been known to be rather unpleasant towards gentlemen I have percieved as rivals. Suffice it to say that it once came to fisticuffs... I'm not proud of it." 20. How does envy manifes itself in you? Arthur: "I tend to be perfectly polite, spend as much time with them as possible, then drift away from them due to feelings of inadequacy." 21. Is sex something you're comfortable speaking about? Arthur: "I prefer to deal in subtleties, but with a partner I have no objections to the more explicit." 22. What are your thoughts on marriage? "Mixed." Arthur took a moment to assemble the words in his mind. "I would gladly marry Faustus, but I know that if I am ever wed it is unlikely to be a happy occasion." 23. What is your preferred mode of transportation? Arthur: "A coach and four any day. Have you seen the state of the public trains?" 24. What causes you to feel dread? Arthur: "Any iteration of the phrase 'I've found a lovely girl, just your type.'" 25. Who do you most regret meeting? Arthur: "His name was Ernest and I don't want to talk about it." 26. Who are you most glad to have met? Arthur looked positively soppy as he answered. "Faustus." 27. Do you have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke? Tempe: "Not a single story, but I like talking about Lettie and Krys. We've had some great times between us. 28. Could you be considered lazy? Arthur: "By some people, certainly. Mr Basset down at the docks certainly thought so. In my defence, my pocket watch had run down." 29. Do you actively seek romance or do you wait for it to fall in your lap? Arthur: "I'm definitely one to seek for... well, I suppose you could call it romance. I certainly try to be romantic in my pursuits, anyway." 30. What memory do you revisit most often? Arthur: "Those carefree childhood days in Nachtholme. I wouldn't trade them for the world. 31. How easy is it for you to ignore flaws in other people? Arthur: "I find myself very aware of other people's quirks and peculiarities, but I try not to judge people for them." 32. How sensitive are you to your own flaws? Arthur: "...my self esteem isn't as good as it could be, and I am quite aware of my own inadequacies." 33. How do you feel about children? Arthur: "I'm very awkward around children. Given the choice, I wouldn't have any, but it is unlikely to be my choice that matters." 34. How badly do you want to reach your end goal? Arthur: "I have already resorted to threats of libel to remain with Faustus. It's a cliché to say I'd kill for him, but I can't think of much else I wouldn't do to spend my life with him." 35. If someone asked you to explain your sexuality, how would you do so? Arthur: "That rather depends on who was asking. If it was stranger I would avoid doing so whilst implying heterosexuality. Someone at the club or similar would be told simply that I am an avowed bachelor. My tastes run to men and men only." Tagging @drowsy-nelapsi and @dongtopus if either of you want to do some or all of these.

#ocs #arthur #temperance #tagged #or not tagged #long post

8 notes · View notes

selenecrown · 6 years

Text

Fandom Tag! It's been a while since I have been tagged, huh?

Hey guys! I got tagged! Yay! I was tagged by @thehuggamugcafe ! Thank you so much!

Rules: Pick 3 (I'm going to do 4 because I feel like it) random fandoms you are in, and answers some questions about them! Then tag some people you want to get to know better!

The fandoms picked were:

- Persona 5. (Huh. Cool.)

- Hyperdimension Neptunia (I know you guys have many questions about this.)

- Durarara!! (I wasn't expecting this. Okay, I can roll with it!)

- Diabolik Lovers (Interesting! Okay, I'm cool with it.)

Question 1: Favorite Character?

- P5 - Ren/Akira, as you can tell for my blog being surrounded by him. But, the other Phantom Thieves of Hearts have a place in my heart too. They may as well have stolen it.

- HDN - Vert! She's my favorite CPU. I also like Nepgear and Uni as well as Rom and Ram. In other words, the CPU Candiates, but the Oracles are cool in my opinion, too!

- DR!!! - Mikado, Anri, Kida, The Orihara Family, Celty, Shinra, Shizuo. Basically most of the main cast. Durarara!!! was a very good anime in my opinon.

- DL - Yui, The Mukami Brothers, Subaru and Shu. All for very different reasons, but the Mukami brothers are still a favorite family of mine to this day (even though It's not in my tag system that I need to finish up!).

Question 2: Any Expected Favorite Characters?

- P5 - For one, Mishima and Shiho were a big one, also if I am being honest most of the Akira/Ren's Confidants. Namely the Phantom Thieves.

- HDN - Uni and Ram. I thought their personalities would make them somewhat unlikable in my opinion. But Nope! I got used to it after a while.

- DR!!! - Izaya, Shinra, and Shizuo. At first, I thought I wouldn't like any of them because of how the series portrays them as adults with problems who sometimes will lend a hand if asked, but later on with much backstory later I was able to appreciate them as characters.

- DL - Honestly? Kou and Yuma. I also thought that I might not like them too much since Kou is two faced and Yuma has a temper. But, it kinda just didn't bother me after some time.

Question 3: Most Relatable Character to You?

- P5 - Ann, mainly because in real life I do some modeling for a family friend that I'm not too dedicated to, I am indecisive at times but still really good at talking and negotiating with people, I am a huge sucker for sweets, I have had and/or still have friends with issues on sensitive topics and I have had many people I know move away, and most of all, I too have had bad people in my life I didn't push away that really dragged me down until I realized my situation.

- HDN - Neptune! Because I too want to be lazy and not be responsible and everyone seems to underestimate me and my abilities until I get off my lazy butt and be productive. Also, when the time comes, I can be responsible and take charge and I am a good person if you get past my lazy self. I just don't do it often enough for people to respect me.

- DR!!! - Kida. Kida is filled with many problems in his life and even though he is probably depressed and probably has PTSD (from what I get from some situations or that's what I think in some scenes through out the series), he still cares very deeply for his friends and just wants them to be okay. He doesn't care too much for himself, he cares for his friends so much he would die just to save them from themselves. Kida, while I can't relate to being in a gang or having PTSD, I can relate to him because of his depression and his loyalty to his friends that I have, too.

- DL - Um, this is a hard one for me. Let's go with Kou. Not because I am two-faced, but because I do feel like sometimes I am two-faced. I act very differently to each person I know and it can feel like I'm not being as honest as I could be with one person as I am with another. Sometimes I have to fake a smile because of what exactly I am hiding from them. Most of the time I hide jealously, insecurities, and my true feelings about how I think about them. My kind nature won't let me tell them how I feel until I have gotten over it and have let go of those feelings. And sometimes, I lie and can't admit I have problems because I don't want others involved because of what might happen. In essence, I can't admit my true feelings unless it goes through a filter. And it is a filter that I can't really change, until I have gotten comfortable with a person enough to let my filter break.

I maybe over emphasizing a very common thing like depression or how most people feel sometimes relationships are, but it's something about myself I want to acknowledge and learn to deal with.

Question 4: Characters You Would Slap If Given The Chance?

- P5 - All the Villians minus Akechi. Seriously, FUDGE them. They are cruel people who really don't need to be in society. Also, Mika from Ann's Confidant. Fudge her. I dislike with a passion.

- HDN - This is a hard one. Um, well, I guess I will go with Noire. She is a tsundere, but she doesn't treat her sister too well compared to others like Neptune and Blanc. I personally like Noire, but at times it seems like Noire isn't really being fair to her sister. Which for me, is kinda sad. Other than that, I would probably slap most of the bad guys in the series minus Arfoire because she is funny most of the time. But, I would slap her too.

- DR!!! - Izaya is a big one, since he is the villain of the series, but at times I did want to slap Shinra, and the Raira Trio because literally most of how much in the whole series could have been prevented if they sat down, beat the crap out of Izaya, and talked their problems out.

- DL - Kino is a big one. But I would slap most of the boys because they aren't the best of people to Yui. Also most of the adults in the series, too.

Question 5: List Your Three Favorite Characters, Go!

- P5 - Akira/Ren, Ann, and Futuba.

- HDN - Vert, Nepgear, and Uni.

- DR!!! - Mikado, Anri and Kida.

- DL - Yui, Subaru and Ruki.

Question 6: Any Characters That Grew on You?

- P5 - Most of the confidants did that to me, and so did most if the Phantom Thieves. But if you are asking for one particular person, Goro Akechi. Through my first run hrough of the game, I didn't like him. I had this feeling he wasn't a hero but not a compete villain either. To find, I was right. But the backstory didn't really get to me until the second playthrough. Then, pretty much after the TV station I liked him a little more. Then, he kept growing on me until he had grown on me enough I liked as much as any other Phantom Thief. Goro still holds a place in my heart next to all the other Phantom Thieves of Hearts.

- HDN - Noire. At first, I saw she was kinda a butt to everyone. That is, until I took a step back and realized she was a Tsundere and was the leader of a country. Of course she was uptight and sometimes had a stick up her butt. She kinda had sometimes to get things done. After that, I respected her more as a character and a CPU.

- DR!!! - Simon was a big one. Shinra was one too. And the Van Gang! I love those guys. Saki is in second place, holy crap you guys remember that if you are going to start this series. But the biggest one to me was Shizuo. I thought he just was not really a good person, but then I realized Izaya was kinda a jerk, and got the backstory behind the two's relationship and was like, hey, Izaya's an asshole. No wonder Shizuo wanted to beat the living shit out of him. And the backstory of Shizuo's past also got me, and now he's a favorite of mine.

- DL - Yui. At first, I didn't like her because of how she was presented at first. And the fandom didn't help that, either. But, when I actually went back and looked at Yui's actions, I realized I probably would have done those same things too. And not long after, a lot of Yui Appreciation Posts came out that ponited out a lot of things about her I didn't know. So, I like her a lot more now!

Question 7: Three OTPs, Go!

- P5 - AkiraxLove and Appreciation from the seriesxRyuji, GoroxFreedom and Love, and AnnxCrepes.

- HDN - Vert + a sister of her own, Unix More Love from Her Sister, and PlutiaxSleep.

- DR!!! - The Raira TrioxLove and Support from One Another, IzayaxAny Trashcan, and The Van GangxMore Love and Support from the Fandom.

- DL - YuixBeing a Badass, AzusaxEating more food, and YumaxHis Garden.

[Sorry guys I have no ships, but I do have these crack ships I support a lot.]

Tags: Well, I can't think of anybody right now. But hey, if you want to do it, go ahead! This was pretty fun for me.

#personal crap #Get tagged!#persona 5 #Hyperdimension Neptunia #durarara #Diabolik Lovers #This was a shorter writing time then most of my fanfics hahahahaha.#It it was fun nonetheless.

6 notes · View notes

beautifulramblingbrains · 6 years

Text

Woke - Chapter 2

Pairing: Eric/OC Fandom: Divergent / Insurgent Rating: M - Frequent bad language and sensitive subjects.

In the middle of corruption, our Leader deviates through a twisted world - and mind. Can he save himself? Does he want to be saved? He isn’t playing a heroes game. But something might just grow on him.

A/N: You can read the first chapter here. And thank you all for reading, commenting, reblogging etc. I know, these are really long chapters, so make sure you grab a cuppa before you start :)

Tags: @2toastersbang @singingpeople @pathybo @equalstrashflavoredtrash @clublulu333 @jojuarez26 @tigpooh67@murmelinchen @vitaevandal @lilu46 @mom2reesie@frecklefaceb @beltzboys2015-blog @ariwolff14 @angelswannawearmyredshooz - this is not letting me tag you? @lunaschild2016 @kirstenisntkirsty - same? @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @lauraaan182 (If I have forgotten anyone please message me.)

Impractical. It’s probably the fifth time I’ve noted the structure as impractical. Trees grow freely, and the tree inside the dome already reaches the very top of the domed ceiling. Dangerous, I scribble to accompany my list of impracticalities.

I’m not as poetic as my father, it appears.

Looking around me, nobody cares that I’m here. They have permanent smiles and greet each other in passing like it’s the best day of their lives. Free love goes a long way. It’s notable by the many children clambering about the place.

It’s like taking a step back in time - before the dinosaurs.

“Mr. Coulter.” I recognize this voice, it’s Joe, and I turn my head over my shoulder to acknowledge him. “Johanna sent me to give you these. Initiate quotas, list of recent emergencies... I think there is a crime record in there too, though, it’s not very big. There are other records in her office that she hasn’t had time to put together.” He shifts through some laminated folders until he finds what he’s looking for. “Ah, here it is. It’s actually quite interesting for me, but for you, I’d hardly find anything troublesome.”

I spot Johanna exiting the barn at last in the distance, Jimmy not far behind. A bird flies overhead that captures my attention, and when I look back, I see the flailing red skirt. I step a little closer to him and keep my voice low. “Joe, what’s her story?”

It takes him a minute to catch up, following my eyeline until he sees her. “Ah, yes, Fleur. An assistant of Johanna’s by choice. A good worker. Far more hours than the average.”

“The average woman or man?” My voice is distant.

“Both,” he tells me and I take a moment to frown at him. “Why?”

“She might be a good person for me to talk to.”

“Oh.” He seems disappointed. “You know, I work closely with Johanna more often than not, too?”

“Everything you have said or done is going into the report, Joe.” My smile is forced, but he seems happy enough. “Now, if you don’t mind. I only have one and a half days left to study an entire faction.” He crosses his arms and stands with me for a long time not realizing I’ve dismissed him. When he catches me, he drops his stance, and motions that he’s going elsewhere. I have every faith he will blab to her that I made an inquiry.

I’ll study the faction on foot, take my notes, and begin writing an official document tonight.

The ease to write comes to me by the time the sky begins to darken and I find myself half invested into it beside me while I eat. It’s back in the dome that the Amity folk cram themselves inside to keep warm and share food between each other; families and single members alike. Regardless of the sunshine in the day, the night is cool.

There is a small band playing old instruments in the corner quietly, and I’m fully aware of the darkness of mine and Jimmy’s clothes along with a small squadron standing out in the array of cream and orange.

I find eating easier by now. I’m used to this place. And Jimmy doesn’t seem to be at all bothered, stuffing as much food in his face as possible. “Try the bread,” I goad him, chuckling to myself when he doesn’t bat an eyelid and takes some from the middle. Between the tables there are servers taking finished plates, replacing food. It’s easy to forget our world in a place like this. But I’m like a dog with a bone. I didn’t realize how deep rejection had hit because I spend one-third of my time scanning the tables.

If she was here, what would I even do? Talk to her? - Most likely not. Apologise for being so bumbling before? - No. Explain how it would be incredible if she would take her clothes off for me? That may have worked one time before when I was twenty, but not now. The memory makes me cringe enough as it is. And besides, this is not Dauntless, and I am nothing but a forgettable face.

I haven’t been interested in sexual encounters for so long that this time it’s slightly thrown me. Usually, it’s kind of a convenience; something I fell into, or on. But she didn’t even particularly show she was interested and I wonder if that’s why I’m so irritated. She was only polite because I am a Leader of another faction. Fleur, it’s a dumb name anyway.

“...come with us tonight, we’ll show you around,” a charismatic soldier speaks mainly to Jimmy, filtering into my thoughts.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, and the table seems to be on in some joke. I just stay quiet and sip my water. “Few cabins round here get lively at night. It’s all that peace serum. Peace in the woods. Peace in the fields…”

“Eric?” Jimmy asks. “What you doing after?”

“I’ve got work to do.” I wipe my mouth and stand up, claiming my exit.

“You’re going to miss dessert,” he says, but the guy next to him squeezes his shoulder.

“There’s enough dessert to go around.”

Scoffing, I pick up my notes and make my exit without looking back.

There is something therapeutic about viewing my own writing. Usually, everything is computer based; emails and the like. But in my own handwriting, it’s a sense of accomplishment.

Putting an arm over my head, I sigh back on the limp pillows, drawing the pen up to bite it. As therapeutic as it is, my mind is racing. I glance at my father’s book beside me, under the hue of the orange lamp. This time of night I wouldn’t be in bed. I’d be in the Pit, with Frank, or in my apartment throwing back the nearest concoction.

If they could see me now - legs up, jacket off, pen in hand - they would think something is wrong with me.

The thought forces me to my feet, groaning for the sake of my shoulders persistence. I change into my sweats and gym shoes and prepare myself to take on the unpredictable Amity footpaths.

At first, my pace is slow but with time my muscles begin to give way to the point I’m hammering the paths, between the trees, my own breathing and heart pulsing in my ears. I want to feel the burn. I want to feel the pain.

I push myself to go faster until I’m wheezing, to the point of my body’s refusal. And it all happens at once. My breath catching the cool night air, my chest tight, my shoulder screaming, I stop suddenly and bend down, grimacing to myself.

Maybe that’s what my jumbled thoughts were, a pent-up energy. Running in Amity freely sure beats concrete in Dauntless.

Rubbing my face of the sweat that threatens to drip into my eyes, I put my hands on my hips and breathe in deeply, staring up to what appears to be lifeless cabins bar the one or two with the lights still on. Some I can see clearly into, some just brightly lit curtains. And upon my stroll back, I make random scenarios of what the families are doing inside.

I’m drawing my walk home out for the fact that I have nothing to go back to and what lies waiting for me at Dauntless will be careening back to me the moment I’m home in the afternoon. I’m lost here, like a limbo, nobody to bother me. And I don’t know whether it is a good or bad thing to be left alone with a swirling brain like mine.

Even in the midst of pure moonlight, in the dark - a favorite hour of mine - my sense of purpose is questionable.

A flash of light catches me off-guard; a room being lit up, and I miss my step, frowning until the realization hits me of who I’m watching. Looking to the ground, I contemplate moving on, pocketing my hands like I’ve been caught, though it is merely a coincidence.

But in the mirror of her small room, she doesn’t see me as she stares at herself in the reflection, mousy hair draped over her shoulders which she pulls to one side to brush through. Fleur’s face is anything other than impressed by what she sees, kind of sad, like the impression she gave with her shifty behavior earlier. Standing back and gripping the bottom of her white top, she lifts it in a practiced fashion to show her bare back to me, her front exposed in the mirror, braless, and my lamenting scoff to myself is purposely victorious.

Should I knock and tell her I can see her, that the whole neighborhood could? - Maybe she doesn’t care. Checking around me, everything is deadly quiet, not a soul. If I stand here and watch, does that make me creepy or lustful, or plain lucky?

She unzips the side of her skirt and it falls away from her hips, her hands going to the top of her underwear. Whether it’s only in my mind or not, but it’s painstakingly slow, watching the material drag down her skin.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I whisper to myself.

Smirking, I back away, finding the path back to my cabin. My goal is to have that. My mind's made up.

Jimmy’s about to knock but I throw the door open, his hand still caught in the air. “Goodmorning,” I say, quite cheerily, him rightfully frowning at me. He looks a mess. An obviously late night. I roam over his attire critically. “Sort your uniform out.” My shoulder hits his as I pass, and I can hear him stumbling behind me to keep up. “You’re on stock intake this morning. You need to go to the warehouses and get the annual turnover of produce for me.

“There’s like twenty?”

My smile is anything but pleasant. “Good thing we’re starting early... And there is fifteen. Overhaul is stored at the other faction’s warehouses.”

“Where are you going? How will I find you after?”

“I’ll be around.” A group of Amity pass in their bright clothes. “I’m not exactly hard to miss.”

Eyeing up Johanna’s long barn just pass the dome, my practical head is on top form. Just from a look, Jimmy knows to be on his way, and I march across the dirt still slightly damp from the cooler night.

There is no one inside, the place open to anyone who might be even slightly interested. As a start, I head for the main office. Of course, everything is above the stables, so I take the textured steps up, surveying the open landing and all the rooms filtering off into sections. Down the hall I can see the door open to the makeshift boardroom we were in yesterday and it gives me a better sense of the layout.

Off the large landing, I spy Johanna’s room, open with only glass walls and multiple blurred lines that are pointless for privacy. There are drawers upon drawers and one metal filing cabinet.

This is going to take me the best part of the day.

By eleven, there are voices traveling towards me. In the meantime, I’ve been enthusiastically pulling apart her office. When Johanna appears, I welcome her to the devastation. If she is unhappy, she hides it well. Though, any man could see her eyes drifting around, thinking how the fuck she was going to put this place back together.

Concentrating back to the papers in my hand, my overall discoveries are hardly troubling, more irritating. “I’m ready to visit the holding cells. I have reason to believe they are going to be in a lackluster condition as not fucking once have you filed any criminal activity apart from random names. And some of the dates are missing.” Holding up the paper, a second part of it drops down haggardly. “And, taking a guess, it’s about a hundred years old. It pains me to think of what condition the infirmary is in.” It’s also quite clear Max has done a piss poor job in the past - which I scribble down as a reminder.

“Usually our mishaps are very lowkey.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I say sharply, lifting my head to movement. Fleur glances at me, standing just behind Johanna, but I look away feigning disinterest. “Now, the holding cells?” I insist to which Johanna purses her lips. It’s obvious she was not expecting to find me here, not just yet, and not like this. “Is there a problem?”

“Erm, well, no… It’s just, between eleven and twelve I deal with simple law of the land and community problems. I’m expecting a visit any minute.”

Bingo. I knew as much from yesterday. “No problem. Shall we?” I gesture to Fleur with a tilt of my head. She holds my eyes for a second, then nods and looks towards the floor, turning on her heel. Just as I get to Johanna I stop. “I’m sorry about the mess.”

Johanna forces a smile. “No worries.”

When Fleur stops in front of me in the small lobby of the holding cells, her hands ball into fists as I approach from behind and purposefully brush past her. “What the hell is this?” I burst out upon eyeing the holding area, which consists of literally three square rooms and bars like something out of an old cowboy movie. They are all empty, gathering dust. There is even a hole in the roof beaming in sunlight and exposing particles in the air.

“Johanna doesn’t like to keep anyone in here for more than a few hours, if at all. It’s... inhumane.” I forgot the sound of her voice, soft but listless.

“Right…” I sigh. “This needs to be rectified. With no authority at all, it spells fucking trouble.” Grabbing one of the bars, I wiggle it, hearing it swirl in the concrete. “How do you think she’d feel if Dauntless took over the policing completely? A more permanent arrangement?”

“Probably relieved? She can blame Dauntless for the hospitality then.”

Smirking, I turn to look over at her. She wears red again today, this time a simple dress with it tied in at her waist. There are remnants of a fringe she has grown out, lighter parts in her hair that catch. With her in a light-hearted mood, I’m going to try my luck. “Listen,” my voice comes out like velvet, leaning up against the nearest wall. She’s been watching me roaming over her attire and hasn’t moved a muscle, which can only be seen as a good sign. “I have got to admit something.” Her expression never falters - unreadable. “I was jogging late last night... and I got a nice little surprise show from you in return.”

“Welcome to Amity,” she says unenthusiastically. She’s not embarrassed, she’s not scared, she’s nothing other than bland.

I try a different tactic. “Why do I get the expression you hate me and despise the ground I walk on?”

Shrugging, she strolls over to an old desk, black with dirt apart from a few old handprints, and skims a finger across. Her lips rise ever so slightly as she scoffs, “I don’t hate you. I just don’t know you.”

Weird, as Amity seem to be all about meet-and-greets. “We could change that,” I say, taking a step closer.

“I think you have far too much work to be taking part in getting to know me.”

“I’m a great multi-tasker.” Only my boots scuff along the ground, and she turns when I get up close.

She has ‘come get me’ eyes, long eyelashes that seem to sweep when she blinks or avoids my gaze - like what she is doing right now. “You were watching me?” she asks curiously after a pause.

“It was hard not to.”

“Careful, Dauntless aren’t supposed to show weaknesses. Is a lack of restraint your weakness?”

She’s testing me, I can see it. Using that little womanly innocence she has to dare to ask such questions. “I admit, at times I’m impulsive. But that’s few and far between. You were hardly shy last night. If you didn’t want to be watched then you would have made sure to shut your curtains.”

“If you are expecting me to take my clothes off for you, I’m sorry, but you are going to be greatly disappointed, Mr. Coulter.”

“Worth a try…” That was risky on my behalf, but I like the way she finally smiles to herself, slightly blushing, hardly expecting my reply.

“You are so confident…”

“Kind of comes with the job. I would apologize, but I don’t see what for.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” She bites her lip, and in my third eye, I see myself ripping at her pretty red dress and bending her over the old desk in here. But I resist, using my ‘restraint’.

Fleur breathes in suddenly and moves away, breaking whatever had begun to shift between us. “We should head to the infirmary… to be finished before twelve.”

“Lead the way,” I gesture. At least I’ll have a nice view on the journey.

“We prefer traditional methods and ailments. The older generation are convinced they don’t need the help of Erudite supplying them. Our treatments work to an extent,” Fleur tells me. “For the treatment they do need - which isn’t available freely - they usually get aid from their families or neighbors to be able to afford it. And if you hadn’t noticed, Amity tend to have big families and a ‘what’s mine is yours’ attitude.”

“You speak like you’re not from Amity yourself?”

Fleur crosses her arms and stops in the corridor of the infirmary, gazing into one of the rooms. “This is my faction. I chose this faction.”

“Did I touch a nerve?” I ask, looking up from my notepad.

“No, I’m over it. My family abandoned me the moment I chose.” She looks to me then smiles gravely. “Did you want to see any other rooms while you’re here?”

“What’s your original faction?”

“It’s been so long it doesn’t matter,” she says quietly. “There are surgery rooms further down if you wanted to check them out. As you can see it’s not in the same state as the holding cells.”

She takes a step but I grab her arm and snarl, “I asked you a question.”

“My chosen faction is my faction. Whatever was is forgotten and I intend on keeping it that way.” Uncurling my hand the moment she gazes down at it, she gathers her composure. “What would you like to do?” I frown at her in confusion and she says, “...It is lunchtime.”

There is something compelling about her. Perhaps it’s the inner strength she has - the coldness, the mystery. Perhaps it’s because she doesn’t show any fear and hardly cowers at all, not even when my mood shifts unpredictably to the ways I act out in Dauntless.

“Have lunch with me?” The question tumbles out, so unlike me. But away from Dauntless, my senses have unwinded; those tight coils of suffocation slowly loosening, the gun next to my bed and the urge to pull the trigger, distant. I want to think about something other than work or myself. And what’s more, is that she makes me want to. That is what I find fascinating. “I’ll be out of your way this afternoon. I won’t be coming back.”

“You’re supposed to be working.”

“I told you, I’m a great multi-tasker. Don’t make it sound like a chore now.” There’s a long moment of silence where I begin to doubt myself. “I don't ask twice.”

A nurse passes between us, greeting us both politely. When she is out of earshot, Fleur puts a hand on the doorframe and loosens her stance. “Okay.” I hadn’t thought past her accepting, and now I’m stumped when she cooly roams over my uniform, lingering at the tattoos on my neck. “But I don’t eat in the dome.”

“I’m good with take-away.”

“What about park benches?”

My frown hurts. And then I realize - my shoulder doesn’t.

Bringing the sandwich up to my mouth, I hesitate. Fleur told me the sandwich bread wasn’t laced with peace serum but I’m always unsure. I glance over to her taking a bite and decide it should be okay. When she moves, it brings my attention away from the small pond we sit in front of, fish just viewable through the murky water skimming the surface on occasion.

“You have a lot of notes,” she says distantly, peering out ahead of her. The papers sit like a wall between us. “I hope Amity cracked up to what it was meant to be.”

“Surprisingly, I haven’t been shocked by anything. It’s not my first time here, it’s just been a while.” Tugging at my collar, my body is screaming for its daily dose.

She picks a piece of bread and throws it into the water. “Amity are good people. I like the fact that we are out of the loop with the other factions. I even believe the Factionless view us differently. We don’t get harassed by them as much as I hear from the others.”

“If you’re digging for what I’m writing about, don’t worry. I’m not aware of any changes apart from basics happening here.” Scowling, I take another bite, sitting further back and throwing a leg out while the nuisance pain strikes with a vengeance.

“I’m not digging.” She’s quiet as she chews. “Can I read them?”

I snort, kicking at the dirt with my outstretched leg. “No.” Rolling my shoulder, I shove the last piece of sandwich in my mouth and sit up, putting my elbows on my knees.

“Can I see?”

“I told you, no.”

“Not the notes, where you have pain.”

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I’m irritated and fidgeting, trying not to show any expression on my face. “My shoulder. It’s nothing. Unless you want me to take my clothes off for any other reason?” I smirk over at her.

“If that were the case, I’d ask you.”

“Mysterious and blunt, what a powerful personality,” I say.

“I could say the same for you… So, you won’t show me anything? Not your writing, not your scars, nor tell me what you are thinking?” There’s a smile to her voice.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking instead?” I brush her off, reaching for my bottle of water and unscrewing the lid.

“Where is the fun in that? And, you wanted to have lunch with me.”

I forgot I have a kink for inflicting torture upon myself. “You wouldn’t like me all that much if you really knew my thoughts.” Taking a long chug of my water, my hand quakes.

“Who says I like you at all?” She smiles mischievously when I glance over to her which tells me the exact opposite.

“For one, you’re still sitting here, asking me passive questions, and eating a dry sandwich. For two,” my lips rise up all on their own. “You’re trying to trick me into taking my clothes off.” She merely bursts out laughing, and it’s contagious.

Clicking her tongue after her laughter filters out, she sighs softly. “I’m thinking you should take your jacket off.”

“So, I was right?” I grin gleefully, feeling a bit lightheaded from laughing, which is weird because I can’t remember the last time I did.

“Partly.” She stands up and I watch her critically, rounding the bench to stand behind me.

“Which part?” I ask, her hands still stained with henna distracting me when they grip my shoulder, the smell of faint perfume, the pale underside of her arm seeming so delicate. She squeezes, kneading into my neck and it’s hard for me to relax. It’s like feeling constricted, bugs crawling up the skin of my legs. I want to stand up and repel away, instead, I opt to just turn my head and shrug her off. “Don’t.”

“I was only trying to help.” Dejectedly, she clasps her hands, the wind kicking up the skirt of her dress, her hair swaying in the breeze. “I should have asked. Maybe I’ve been in Amity too long.”

My laugh sounds somewhat condescending, yet it’s anything but. “I say that to myself about Dauntless.” Putting a hand through the shaved part of my hair, I’m starting to feel like a cunt.

“Is it because… there is someone in Dauntless waiting for you?”

“It’s because,” I begin, standing up and facing her with the bench as a wedge between us. “It’s,” I exhale sharply, instinctively lifting a hand up to feel the pill bottle inside my jacket. The job I do; only the other night putting a bullet between a sixteen-year-olds eyes, the screams, the blood on my hands. “I’m not worth helping,” I finally finish. “I’m a dangerous man.” Fleur’s eyes flash between mine, the crevice of a frown between her two neat eyebrows. “I’m not looking…” I stammer for the first time in a very long while. “I don’t want or need sympathy.”

Fleur crosses her arms and forces a smile, one that does falter. “If you’re ever going to change your mind…” she trails off, gazing back up the path. She gets up, shaking her head. Brushing past me, she says, “You know what? Don’t even bother.”

I scoff to myself in surprise as I listen to her footsteps fading away, popping the pills and swallow. I snort humorously - who does she even think she is? “I’m not bothering, don’t worry,” I say to no one in particular, feeling like a jackass nonetheless.

“Thank you, Eric, for all the hard work you have put in over the last two days,” Johanna shakes my hand. Hard work? She should try getting from one side of the Pit to the other on a Friday night.

Joe is next, shaking enthusiastically, and I hope to damn god I never see any of them again. “It’s been a real pleasure,” he tells me. “It helps to make us feel a part of the city we live in, though we are so far out of touch.”

“That’s great.” I whack his shoulder hard and turn my back on him, looking to Jimmy behind me. “You ready? He nods and jumps up into the truck, leaving me the window seat. As the truck starts, I keep my eyes out to the front, but I know I’m going to be catching glimpses of red for days - whether that is on my hands, or of Her skirt.

Pulling up to the Lot in Dauntless brings a weight upon my shoulders, namely - my bad shoulder as I roll it out. I was hardly expecting a welcoming party, so to see the one lone man, bringing his arms up in a huge gesture towards himself, is somewhat of a surprise. Frank obviously couldn’t wait for me to get back.

When the engine dies and I hop down, he strolls over with his trench coat open, a massive grin that he’s known for. “My boy!” he exclaims loudly over the emptying of the truck, man-hugging me and patting my back like it’s been years. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling.”

“I haven’t looked at my phone since the reception went. I’ll turn it on tonight,” I say, just as Jimmy tiredly steps to my side.

“How was the honeymoon?” Frank laughs, greeting Jimmy in the same fashion.

Smirking, I peer at Jim. “There was a lot of honey.”

“Is that so?” Frank winks before his expression turns serious. “Eric, we gotta talk. Now.” Suddenly thinking of Max, something ice-cold drops down my back. “You be on your way, Jim.” Corralling me away from the truck, there is a shift in his stance; a lowering of his head, but shoulders stiff, glancing around us. “If I’d have known about Amity, there were a few things I could’ve got you to do - check out for me, while you were there.”

“It was a fast arrangement. I didn’t know until an hour before and I had things to organize.”

“I get that.” He pulls out a cigarette and offers me one, which I take. He waits for the people to filter out of the lot before speaking again, keeping his voice low. “This is more of a personal thing. None of the other boys know.”

I laugh sardonically. “You got secret kids you’re not telling me about?”

“No, man.” He smacks my arm. “I got family in Amity.”

I stare blankly at him for a long moment. “You have family... in Amity? Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not,” he assures, taking a long drag. “And family as in just one family member…. I hope. Kind of a sweet-sour subject, so if you’d humor me a little bit of low judgment that would be great.”

“What about them?” I’m growing bored already of his long-ass, splintered sentence structures.

“I want to know how my little flower is doing.” I zone out instantly, thinking of Her. The waves in my brain buzz, my ears ringing. “She won’t speak to me. I get a very brief message from a nobody that goes out there on security turnovers. I tried calling you, boy. And this is why.”

My head begins to throb, specifically over my eyes. I rub my eyebrows frantically, feigning tiredness. “She?” Swallowing, my throat has gone dry, and my gut hasn’t caught up with my mind. “You could have sent an email, that would’ve got to me.”

“You know I prefer face to face or voice to voice for professional purposes. And she, as in, my half-sister.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, flicking his cigarette. “It’s a real long story. Daddy had a side-chick. Side-chick has baby. Sister goes Dauntless to Amity.”

“Why?” I cough suddenly, making Frank laugh. “Why have you never told me?”

“No reason to. You know what I said in the past, right? About people finding connections and…” he trails off distantly, staring over at the truck. “...weaknesses. It’s always used against you.” He grips my shoulder, meeting my eye. “Are you going back to Amity?”

“I don’t intend to. But then, I haven’t seen Max. And I won’t know anything until tomorrow. Got some work to do at home to get this finished.”

“So, you’re not heading out with us tonight?”

I shrug, “Duty calls,” knocking his hand from my shoulder.

“You get the word you’re visiting Amity again, you tell me, brother. I mean it.” Come to think of it, as I face him, he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. I wonder if this is what Max had seen in me the night before he sent me to Amity. “Let’s get out of here, it’s freezing. Balls are going to drop off…” He begins to walk away, towards the parking lot’s steel door. “You up for a beer?”

I’m still far behind, hands shoved into my pockets, following a crack in the ground before letting my head tilt up, trying to seem impassive. “What’s her name?” My voice cuts through the chilled air, and Frank hesitates for the best part of several seconds, holding the door open, one foot in, one foot out, like my mind and loyalties. Maybe a sign, an unconscious sign…

“Fleur,” he says. Slowly, he points inside. “Beer?”

“No. Got work to do,” I say.

“Hm, work.” He pouts for a moment, seemingly thinking of talking back but eventually just nods. “I’ll catch you tomorrow morning then.”

My holdall is dumped the moment I set foot inside the door, slamming it shut behind me, looking at the pitiful excuse of the place I call home. It’s far from the freedom of Amity; a dungeon, a place where my most decrepit thoughts linger, hitting me straight in the face.

I pace a few times up and down, past the kitchen island, eyeing up my laptop on the end. The moment I turn it on I know the emails will come flooding in, my initiate reports long and boring. But what I can also do is search the database through my home laptop, using the network accessed by senior members, like myself, Max, Frank…

Running a hand down my face, the realization of spending almost half a day with Frank’s sister; seeing her naked, lusting after her, trying my hand at flirting, is wrong. If he found out…

The thought strikes me that perhaps someone saw me with her. That maybe an informant will give their information to Frank. My part was totally innocent. I didn’t know who she was, and now her first reaction to me makes sense. He called her Flower, a nickname. I asked her about the meaning of it and her mood dampened quickly.

She’s hiding in Amity from him. No contact, he said. No contact on her behalf means she knows more than she lets on about Dauntless, about Frank. She knows things about Frank that could be dangerous.

Was Frank also fobbing me off about his whole weaknesses speech? We all have family. We all come from somewhere. So why would he call it a weakness? I don’t have attachments, but most of the other guys do. So why does that make Frank hold this secret?

The laptop is open and I’ve perched myself in front of it without being completely conscious of it. I type in the passwords angrily, scorning myself. I should have seen it. I should have known.

The Dauntless logo is at the top right of the page, a search bar to place a name or location in the middle. I don’t know her second name, I doubt it will be Frank’s. Fleur and Amity are all I have.

It takes a minute to load while I chew my thumbnail, propping my arms up on the counter. Suddenly the information springs up, her picture - that same mysterious, lost appearance that had me so caught up. Her name, Fleur Morey, Amity identification: 1247745, DOB: July 7th, making her twenty-five, seven years younger than Frank. Other than that, her information is basic. But at least she is legit. Though, there are no specifics on family.

With no email or number, she really has cut herself off from Frank.

I can’t admit to him that I met her because that opportunity had escaped me the moment he told me her name and I stared back blankly. I should have mentioned it then, but I didn’t, and logically, I’m unsure of why.

My phone buzzes loudly, snapping me out of my trance-like state. Grabbing it from my pocket and putting it to my ear, Max talks first. “Eric, I hear you’ve returned. Because I haven’t seen you I guess you’ve gone back to finish up the report on Amity? - And that, because you answered your phone, you’re not out with Frank?”

“I’m just going over the notes,” I lie, with the picture of Fleur staring back at me. It makes me feel a little creepy, stalking her after only recently departing, but it’s within good reason. “I’ll have it done tonight.”

“Other than that?”

I log out, clicking off the database. “Everything was… fine.”

Max sighs down the phone. “No hard feelings for sending you out there?”

“You know me, I’m one for expressing myself quite clearly.”

He chuckles to himself. “See you at the morning meeting.” He ends the call without my reply; the light dying on the face of the phone when I put it on the counter, leaving me to sit here in an eerie silence. Alone again.

Entering into the boardroom for our usual meeting, I take a seat next to Frank. Though, he’s quiet. Too quiet. Barely glancing my way with his legs crossed and watching his own foot bounce impatiently on his knee.

Max is up front, standing authoritatively, the group waiting. “Eric has returned from Amity with a very fine report. It’s believed from the conditions he was met with, that the holding area they have within Amity is in poor condition along with any crime-log or activity, which makes it hard in general for Dauntless to operate.” Frank’s burning stare is at the side of my face but I ignore him, acting like I’m too enthralled with this speech. “He’s advised a permanent fixture. Someone to be named head of the project.” A woman at the front that’s always hovering around Max looks over her shoulder at me and I stare her out until she ducks away. “As we are prominent members of Dauntless, I think this matter should be discussed between us. A decision will be made today.”

Frank taps my leg. “You missed out last night,” he whispers, watching Max carefully. “Two detailed hits sent to Jeanine, deviating Max. She’s dealing with the backlash. Heath banged his long lost love, Pepper. And Jimmy whitied.”

Running my tongue along every individual tooth helps to stop my mouth from getting away from me. For the first time, when I glance at Frank, he irritates the living shit out of me. The nonsense he drawls seeming hardly thought-provoking. I couldn’t care less, but find myself pondering over whether Jimmy is alright or not.

Flexing my hands out, Frank taps me again, and this time I painfully clamp my eyes shut. Maybe Fleur was right, my lack of restraint is terrible. “I want you in on tonight's,” he tells me.

I turn my head and look him up and down slowly. “I’ll be in on tonight’s if I’m not busy. Since when did you feel the need to tell me what I’m doing?” His eyes glint, his top lip quirking into more of a snarl than a smirk. “I don’t take orders from you.”

“Not yet,” he smiles fully, motioning with his head towards Max. “But maybe someday you will.”

“Then that’ll be the day.”

“Eric!” Max’s voice booms suddenly, stopping me and Frank from sneering at each other. Neither of us had heard him calling me for the last couple of minutes, and that the room is quiet. “Eric, this entire boardroom is in favor of you representing Dauntless for Amity. I’m sure, as you have been once already, Johanna would be very pleased with your presence.”

“Thrilled,” I say, and Frank leans back with a scoff in his chair.

“You start immediately. Arrangements should be made for next week.” Max nods to the woman who is his insufferable shadow, handing her some papers. “Meeting dismissed.” The room moves except for me and Frank.

“I saw this coming,” Frank begins, sounding somewhat disappointed. “You’re going to be fucking off to Amity every week. It’s going to be occupying all your time.”

“Get off my back.” I go to stand but he grips my arm, my hand whipping back to his wrist, a defensive maneuver. “You really want to do this?”

“No, but do you?”

“Where exactly are you going with this?” I ask, shoving his arm away and flexing my shoulder. “You’ve been a little bitch all morning.”

“There’s something bothering me about you and I can’t figure out what it is. Maybe it’s just me. But I’ll tell you what I’m thinking, we’ve always been straight with each other, haven’t we?” He purposely smiles with all teeth. “I’m doubting how well you’ll hold up with what’s in store for Max. You know, last night was the first time you put us aside for work?”

“I’m doing my job. The job comes first.” That may be the first time I’ve said that.

“We come first. Or have you already forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten anything, but this is new. You’re like a bitter wife I left behind.” Frank’s never vocalized what comes first, it’s always been my guess, but right now I know he’s trying to lay it on, trying to break information from me. He’s looking for a way in, to stab the knife and twist it until I submit. “We are Leaders of a faction.”

“You’re also a sick man. A sick man who relies on medication. That was the deal. If you can’t turn up, you get turned out. And that ain’t pretty. Tonight, Eric.”

My eye twitches, casting a glare at him, one that would make any other person back down, but not Frank. “Fuck you,” rumbles out of my chest without any conceivable thought. “Fuck you. That was low - even for you.” As I stand up, my attention is drawn to a person by the door, leaning up against it - Leroy. He’s heard the tail end of our conversation, it’s written all over his face.

My back is so stiff, my muscles screaming to inflict pain on the next poor bastard. But they won’t get the better of me. As I get to him, he doesn’t move and I purposefully stop, staring coldly, unspeaking. I suddenly fake a large step towards him, causing him to jolt back in surprise and hit the frame. “Pussy,” I say with a smirk.

Heath keeps looking over from the seat next to me in the back of the car. This confirms he probably only knows partly of what’s happening. - Or maybe it’s just the pissed off look on my face

Leroy drives, and it’s Candor we are visiting, the great building in front of us. My mood is sour. I couldn’t care less, and I’m not enjoying being in Leroy’s or Frank’s company. “Leroy should take this one,” I say as the car stops, copying him from the night he elected Jimmy.

“We all go,” Frank frowns back at me.

“Wow, what a different attitude.” I yank on the handle of the door and open it, slamming it shut behind me. They are whispering in there in their few spare seconds and I don’t doubt it’s about my behavior. But I will not be told what to do. And I will act the cunt as much as I fucking want.

Hey, after all, Frank wanted me here tonight. Specifically tonight. And I’m going to make him regret it.

Tapping the window, I smile at Leroy. “Come on, you’re not backing out now, are you? I could really do with shooting some innocents again tonight. We tend to have a knack for it. Get’s me off,” I snarl the last part with a fake grin at his level in the window.

“Cut the shit, Eric,” Frank snaps as he emerges from the vehicle, lighting a cigarette. He inhales heavily and closes his eyes before he speaks. “Two refusements to pay tonight. You know the deal.”

We know the deal. The hand I’ve been dealt is bullshit.

“Please, please, please. I’ll do anything. I don’t have the points right now. There must be something?” The woman begged. Leroy glanced over to Frank while I stood back with Heath with a gun to her husband's head. “The medicine is for me, not him.” None of us moved, nor acknowledged her at first until Frank breathed in and crouched down to her level on the floor where she sat pleading on her knees in front of Leroy.

“You get one warning, sweetie,” Frank said, pushing back some of her hair. The husband moved and I pressed the barrel hard onto his forehead. His eyes met mine, and if only he knew how hard it was in that moment to keep myself passive. I could see the hate boiling under his surface. He would kill me now if he could. Even if the most harmless man was pushed hard enough, they will kill. “Then you get us at your door for your last chance. ...And you still can’t pay up.” He shook his head for dramatics. “What are we supposed to do?”

“Please,” she sobbed.

“She has a beautiful mouth,” Leroy spoke quietly. My eyes slid from the horror in her husbands towards Leroy getting a little closer to her. There was something different, something dark that I’d neither heard nor seen before. Leroy and Frank were pretty close, but from my new understanding, because they were just as sick as each other. Me and Frank had a different relationship - we used our heads.

“Indeed she has,” Frank said, letting a thumb slip across her lower lip.

I knew what I needed to do.

“Eric, you okay there?” Max asks, weaving behind his desk with a coffee. “You zoned out.” I feel cold all over, peering out towards the window.

I pulled the trigger. The backlash of warm blood splattered across my face from point-blank range.

My hand twitches with the noise of the gun in my memory and I whip my head back to Max. “What were you saying?”

“What the fuck, Eric?!” Frank called out, the husband's body slumping on the floor in front of me. Frank stumbled back and Leroy jumped to the side as I swung my gun towards the woman. She screamed, momentarily. But it was for the best.

I grip my hands together, blinking rapidly. Max seems to watch me closely for a minute, sipping his coffee. “Did you want one?” He gestures with the cup and I shake my head. “I have to admit, I’m impressed with the work you did. It’s detailed - can tell it’s your own words, of course,” he chuckles. “You haven’t lost it.”

“He moved,” my voice droned, putting an end to the night.

Raising my eyebrow, all I can think is, ‘Really? Because I feel like I’ve lost my damn mind.’

“You seem to be taking the thought of representing the adjustments in Amity pretty well.”

“Initiation is ending. I need something to focus on.” My thumbs twirl around each other. I need to stop this. I’m being too obvious.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Don’t criticize me,” I say.

He sits back in his chair and crosses his legs. “I’m giving you full authoritative permission on this. Your word is as good as mine. I’ll let all relevant parties know. But just…” He hesitates, rolling his lips to grimace. “Just don’t let me down.” He scoffs and turns in his chair more to the side. “I know I’m giving myself grief, having to try and coerce Frank into listening to a damn word I say. I was hoping I could work on him. Perhaps try and build a better relationship, if only for work.”

“Good luck with that.”

Max smiles somewhat then goes into a drawer next to him. “Radio, because the reception gives me a headache out there.”

“Add that to the long list of improvements,” I scoff sarcastically.

“I’m pretty sure the folk out there make sure to keep it that way.”

I sigh tiredly. “They are interesting.” The vow I told myself, to never linger in the land of regret, comes two-fold. The words I spoke aloud, saying I didn’t want sympathy, or that I couldn’t be helped were far from the truth. At the time, my back bristled and I responded the only way I knew how. But I brought back that sensitivity from Amity. The book my father wrote, viewing a relaxed life, the touch of someone who cared, which couldn’t gain anything from me, has ignited something. The gun in my mouth seems far away. The will to live harsher. Questioning everything that only a week ago I was passionate about.

The words are out before I can stop them, “Be careful with Frank. He’s a loose cannon at the best of times.” Standing up quickly, I take the radio, heading for the door.

“And like you ain’t?” he smiles. But if he’s smart, he’ll understand.

For the next few days, my life consisted of paperwork leading up to the Amity visit and arranging a new schedule, solidifying that the quota is capable between our security. In the night, I found myself just on simple visitations - premier warnings. Whether I was purposefully back seated or not, I didn’t focus on it. But I did see them afterward, joining them in the Pit. Though, it did feel like there was a distance between us. How they kept themselves to one side and I sat with Jim or Heath. My part as top dog in our faux brotherhood was shifting. I’m not blind to it. The question was, did I care?

...Not if my pain medication still fell into my hand every week.

That all fades into the background when my second official visit to Amity arrives. This time it will take me a few days, three to four to sort out how well this will work. And if what they say is true - that there isn’t a lot of problems with criminal activity or suspicious behavior. Because not only do I want to know why - so I can study it - but also if there is some backhanded business taking place. I have to say, a straggled bunch of factionless, fed and watered, then packed off into the sunrise sounds a little far-fetched.

The trucks are loaded, three to be precise, out in the Lot, ready for departure. I’m opening the cab door, checking whether I have my radio when I hear Frank call my name. I turn and he gestures to himself as per usual, like I should be in awe at the sight of him and says, “What’s up?”

Tightening my belt around my waist, I tap the knife on my leg to make sure it’s secure. “What is it?” I ask him, hardly paying attention while he holds the door for me.

“Shit’s been crazy busy. With the whole…” he rolls a hand out, saying, “Jeanine thing,” quietly. “I’m hoping when you get back we’ll have more of a chance to talk.”

“Yeah,” I say unenthusiastically. “I’ll be gone a few days.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s cool.” He crosses his arms and looks shifty, so I pause, turning to face him. “Look, er... You remember what we talked about before? About family?”

“Oh yeah, a secret sister.”

He smiles and it drops quickly. “Can you find her? See what’s going on? How’s she's doing?”

“Why don’t you go to Amity when you next get the chance?” I brush him off.

Frank laughs. “She’d probably shoot me on sight.”

My eyes narrow in suspicion. “Don’t get along?”

“Brotherly-sisterly love. You know, that old cliche.”

I don’t believe a word of it, clambering up into the cab as he still stands with the door wide open. “I won’t go intentionally looking. But if I bump into her…”

“As long as that’s the only bumping you’re doing,” he subtlety warns me. It’s a normal tone, but I know he means it. He salutes, letting the door close.

When the engine starts and we pull off, I watch him in the side mirror, dragging a hand down his face. For the first time viewing him torn or a little lost at the sight of us trundling towards his precious Fleur. I can’t help but smile to myself. And hope, that when I get back Max is still around.

It’s late afternoon by the time we arrive and have the equipment unpacked. Johanna stands at a distance for the most part with a group of people, some of the Amity getting involved and helping. I am designated the same cabin as before, refusing the assistance of Joe quickly, assuring him I’m not stupid and can remember from the last instance.

We are offered a long table at dinner, and this time it’s quite riveting to see the plentiful uniforms of black swarming around the pinks and yellows. With no tag-along with me, I’m left alone, able to eat without a continuous droning in my ear. I’ve had my painkillers in advance, a full stomach, for once feeling pretty alert to the usual aches as the outside light fades fast with the evening.

Taking a sip of water, I look between the rows of tables, conscious of the fact that I’m not being watched, not by anyone, not like I am in Dauntless.

A wry smile begins to form across my face when I see Fleur enter. Avoiding the rows of tables, she grabs the last dregs of food from the lineup. She doesn’t wear red, but something pale orange. Whatever it is, it’s hideous.

Only when she steps through the archway on her exit do I get to my feet, following in pursuit. I know she knows something. She knows about what Frank does, she has to. And she’s heightened my sense of curiosity.

She takes the main path lit by solar paneled lights while I opt for the cover of darkness. She’s loud and uncaring when she walks, not the slightest clue I’m following. I round the back of the cabins as it merges into the forest, catching glimpses of her, even when she stops and taps something on her leg. Fleur looks behind her this time but continues on.

There is a bend in the path, narrowing next to a dark and unoccupied cabin, and I target that as my point of contact. Stepping onto the path, she suddenly takes a left, past a tree I hadn’t thought about.

I curse softly, I’ve lost her. But I still get to the tree, running along one of these shit built sheds.

My reactions are based on instinct as suddenly an arm with the knife darts out and a little hand tries perilously to grab my jacket. The knife clatters to the ground after a mere tap to the soft underside of the wrist, disarming Fleur quickly. I’m able to pull the balled fist from my jacket, spinning her and restraining it behind her back as her chest hits the side of a building.

“Careful. You’ll hurt yourself,” I hiss, listening to her breathing heavy.

“Why are you following me?”

With her hair in a ponytail, I can see the fine hairs at the back of her neck, the slope to her shoulder and down, leaning purposefully into her. “Now, why is an Amity so jumpy?” I ask sardonically. “So frightened?” I loosen my grip and spin her to face me, pushing back on one of her shoulders to keep her in place.

“How’s my little flower doing?” Her eyes widen, and I can’t help the one-sided smirk on my lips as I finally get a reaction.

#woke #chapter 2 #eric coulter #divergent #insurgent #beautifulramblingbrains #jai courtney #fanfiction #fanfic #eric divergent fanfiction

56 notes · View notes

starwrite-er · 6 years

Text

Poster Boy [Chapter 21] - Poe Dameron x Reader

A/N: so like... this fic is maybe kinda diverging from how they located Lor San Tekka in the comics since they’re ongoing and like the entire process of finding him hasnt yet been revealed? I’ll sort out the timeline further when I start working on the companion fic.

Tag List: @firefeatherx @plethora-of-things @britishteahater @umbrellabrass @purple-skeleton @winchesterandpie @the-creative-lie @i-alrightokaycool @definitely-nota-fangirl @purelittleblueberry @gemmielii

Two missions had been followed through in relation to the search for the ‘Jedi-sympathiser’. While they worked to narrow the potential area, they turned up little. The third team had left a few days ago, and was due to return today. Any news they brought with them would be welcome.

It had been nearly two weeks since the wedding between Hyadum and Jenn. Nearly two weeks since the incident with Poe. What happened was in the spur of the moment and impulsive.

Unsurprisingly, the traits shared with the occurrence are so very in our nature.

The issue was that the kiss didn’t solve anything. Poe and I live dangerous lives. The stakes are always high. Acknowledging the feelings we have is one thing, but actually acting on those feelings? The risks that came with such attachment are too much for even us.

If what we felt was true, then trying to avoid the obvious would cause trouble, yet still we left behind our habits. No more kisses on cheeks, no more hand holding. I started subconsciously avoiding him. Truth be told, it wasn’t helping. Instead, it left me with a feeling of hollow confusion.

I sigh as I sit on the duracrete of the hangar, choosing to take a break from working on my X-Wing. Noticing my mood, BB-09 bumps into my leg, beeping encouragements.

“Y/N, there you are!” I turn to see Karé Kun calling to me, Jess beside her. “You’re wanted in the Command Centre.”

“What’s happening?” I ask, standing up. I was close with Jess, but didn’t really interact with Karé as much.

“The Jakku scouting mission just got back,” Jess tells me as I catch up with the pair and we begin to head off. My astromech, rolling alongside us, gives a series of beeps and chirps direct at Jess, who shoot a look at the droid. “Yeah, they’ve got news, ‘09 - and will you ever stop calling me ‘The Great Destroyer’?” BB-09 responds with a whir of dissent.

Inside the Command Centre, there is already a number of people gathered. I take my place standing around the central table, across from Poe. Our gazes meet, but we just nod in acknowledgement of each other.

“I believe that’s everyone,” General Organa speaks up, eyes scanning over those in the room. Huh, it’s not that many. “In that case, let’s begin.”

“As you all probably know, myself, Kat, and Teditt just returned from a reconnaissance mission. We were scouting Jakku, and what we found has lead us to believe we may have found the individual with the map to Skywalker,” Curint announces. “We were surveying the Kelvin Ravine when we stopped in a small village to replenish our water supplies. The colony was called Tuanul, a settlement populated by members of the Church of the Force.”

“Were you able to identify the one in possession of the map?” General Organa questions, seeming to already know the answer.

“A human man recognised us as being members of the Resistance. He said his name was Lor San Tekka.” Kat tells her. The General nods.

“That’s who we’re looking for,” She says before addressing Poe. “Poe, I believe it’s time for you to reveal the details of the classified missions I sent you on.”

The Commander nods slowly as he begins. “The General already was suspicious that the First Order was looking for Lor San Tekka, the one with the map, after a mission where intel was pulled from the ship Hevurion Grace. After the obtainment of this information followed a number of classified missions,” From across the table, Poe gives me a look, one almost guilty. “Missions carried out by the Black Squadron. A while back, we went to the planet Ovanis. The mission was rough, but the Crèche people told me where they believed Lor San Tekka went. We followed the information up, taking us to the prison planet Megalox Beta.”

“The Crèche told me Grakkus the Hutt was the guy our man Lor visited next. The Black Squadron broke him out, and he gave us a list of locations. I went with C-3PO and Oddy Muva to Kaddak, but the First Order official Tarak ambushed us. That was the mission that L’ulo died on. Oddy went missing, and when we found him, he also died fighting the First Order,” Poe pauses, swallowing thickly. These were close friends he’d lost. “C-3PO had been monitoring the list Grakkus gave us, and lead to one of our most recent missions, taking us to Cato Neimoidia. Alongside the General, we found Lor San Tekka and busted him out of holding.”

“He made passage to Jakku, which is why our most recently issued mission was reconnaissance on said planet.” General Organa finishes. It’s quiet in the Command Centre as everyone process the information. I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes closed for a moment, mulling over everything I didn’t know.

“Wait, so... how does the work the rest of us were doing fit in?” I question, gesturing to the others around the table.

“Every mission counts in helping us gain the advantage over the First Order.” The General answers. She looks me in the eye, and I realise there is more she wants to say but she can’t do here. She’s an intuitive woman, she knows what it is I want to know, and I want to know the purpose of the missions I had been sent on.

“What’s the plan now?” Snap asks, leaning on the table, watching our General intently.

“Commander Dameron will leave for Tuanal on Jakku in a week. He will be the one to retrieve the map,” General Organa announces. I almost laugh, and Poe’s gaze flickers over to me, catching the ghost of a smile on my face. Just a few weeks ago, didn’t I say he would be the one chosen for this mission? “Those directly involved in this coming retrieval will be briefed in the coming days. Unless anyone has anything else to say, you’re dismissed.”

There’s a ripple of murmurs about the mission, but quickly enough the majority of those gathered begin to filter out of the Command Centre, myself amongst them, not necessarily keen on sticking around at the given moment. I’m a fair way down the corridor when someone calls my name.

“Y/N, wait!” It’s Poe. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” I reply shortly. Poe takes a moment, looking for the words.

“Stars, where do we even start?” He mutters, running a hand through his hair. Now that the nature of his missions has been revealed, I’m seeing everything he does in a new light, and I’m beginning to look past the front he put up to hide his stress.

“That’s up to you, flyboy.” I say, arms crossed. Poe seems taken slightly aback by my tone. Truth be told, I’m not entire sure why I feel so riled up by it all, but I figure it’s due to the reveal of these classified missions and the, ah, unfinished business between us.

“Is this about the missions? Y/N, listen, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about them. I trust you, and I’m sorry if I hurt you-“ Poe starts apologising to me.

“You know what, Poe?” I cut him off. “I am. I am hurt. I’m hurt that you didn’t tell me, but I will not have you apologise for it. The details of those missions were classified, even to your team members. You were just doing your job, helping the Resistance, and I have no actual reason to be upset or angry. Don’t apologise - you have no reason to.”

There’s a momentary pause. I sigh, and continue, my tone now much softer. “I- I thought I knew you better. I thought I would have noticed the stress you were under, and I feel bad because I didn’t. I was so absorbed in my own world that I completely missed it. I’m honestly not bothered by you keeping the missions away from me - I understand that telling me would have just added to everything else you were dealing with - but you can talk to me, y’know? You don’t have to tell me exactly what’s going on, but you can talk to me.”

Poe stares at me for a moment before pulling me into a tight hug. I’m quick to return the embrace as he buries his head into the juncture between my neck and my shoulder.

“You were my first choice of pilot to come with me to Kaddak, you know. Even if you aren’t in the Black Squadron,” Poe mumbles. “I couldn’t risk you like that, though. The mission was sensitive enough already.”

“Poe, when Terex ambushed you on the way back to base, stars, they didn’t even tell me. I was off-world when L’ulo died,” I tell him, guilty that I wasn’t there to give the veteran pilot a send off. “You could have died, too, and I’m only just finding out about this mission.”

“I had BB-8 send a message back to base in case I died, but there was no way I actually would have,” Poe says. I pull back from the embrace and give him what must be an almost horrified look, since he immediately looks sheepish as he realises I didn’t know about BB-8’s message. “I have too much I still need to do before I die, and I promised myself I’d tell you everything.”

“And is that everything?” I ask him. He hesitates, and I sigh.

“No. No, it’s not everything, but it’s most of it, I swear,” Poe tells me, looking me in the eye. “But we do need to talk about one more thing. The other day, we-“

“Yeah, I know. I know,” I sigh, rubbing my face. “Poe, listen, I don’t regret kissing you, but I don’t know if this is the best idea.”

“What do you mean?” Poe asks slowly, cautiously, his hands on my shoulders as he searches my face.

“I mean, you’d just gotten back from what I assume was a dangerous mission, and we’d just attended a wedding. How- how do we know we weren’t just riding the aftermath of that?” I say, grasping for straws. I try not to focus on the hurt in his eyes, but it’s hard when I’m also hurting myself. “And even if we weren’t, is it really worth the distraction? When we’re out there flying and fighting together, it’s not only unfair on everyone, ourselves included, if we start paying too much attention to each other, but it’s also dangerous.”

“Karé broke up with Snap for the same reason,” Poe says, almost quietly. “If anything, that made it worse for them.”

“I know, I just...” I falter in my words. “I don’t know if I can do it, and I’m sorry. You deserve better than this situation.”

Poe nods slowly, processing, acknowledging what I’ve had to say. He drops his hands and straightens up. He steels his expression, and I hate this ficconversation.

“Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to apologise,” He flashes me a brief smile, a quick attempt to reassure me. “I’ll see you around base, okay?”

As I watch him go, every step he takes I find myself loathing what I’ve said even more.

#my work #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars tfa #the force awakens #reader insert #fic: poster boy

33 notes · View notes