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bookishofalder · 3 years

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Catfish & Sunshine II

Read Part I ~ Catfish & Sunshine

Summary: Frankie and Sunshine are all dressed up for a special event and he can’t keep his hands to himself. Requested

Warnings: Smut, language, mentions of loss and grief, sad Santi.

Frankie reluctantly gazed at himself in the mirror that you had hung in the front hallway, giving his outfit a final once-over. He was dressed in his most formal military garb, hair combed and beard carefully trimmed, and though he felt a little ridiculous, he knew you’d be more than thrilled with his appearance.

It was rare that either of you ever had to dress up, both of your lives decidedly relaxed, free of fancy events when you were both happy to go to the bar with the guys for a night out. Hell, Frankie had tried to convince you to let him take you to the fanciest restaurant in town-Benny had been the one to tell him about it; but the moment you saw the dress code on the website you scoffed, pointed out that money could be spent in so many better ways, and then excitedly asked to go to a mom and pop Mexican restaurant that was one of Frankie’s favourites.

Tonight there was no avoiding the formal dress, the fancy hair, nor the heels. It was the second anniversary of Tom’s funeral and Molly and the girls had organized a charity event for retired veterans who needed help getting on their feet after leaving service. It meant as much to Frankie and the guys as it did to Tom’s own family. Everyone was acutely aware that if Tom hadn’t been so desperate to support his family, he would never have gone on the mission that led to his death.

When Frankie had received the invitation in the mail, he’d gone numb, not realizing he had stood frozen in the doorway for more than ten minutes until you walked through the door and bumped into him, yelling in surprise. You had taken one look at his face and knew that Frankie was on the edge and, like he knew you always would, you took charge. First leading him to the couch and getting him to take deep breaths, then taking a look at the invitation he clutched in his hand. When you realized what it was for, you told Frankie you would go with him, support him through the whole thing and then take him for ice cream after. Ice cream dates were a regular thing in his relationship with you.

“Sunshine,” He called, glancing out the living room window at the rain coming down. He heard you grunt in response, probably still trying to get your hair just right even though he thought you looked perfect with bed head. When you’d walked out of the bathroom a few hours prior, your hair was done in a fancy updo, he’d stupidly remarked that you looked great, but ready a little early. You had gaped at him for a moment before gesturing to your face aggressively, pointing out you hadn’t even started on your makeup. He’d steered clear since. “I’m going to pull the car upfront so you don’t have to walk in the rain, I’ll meet you outside the lobby!”

He heard a door open, your voice now clearly echoing down the hall, “Is that your nice way of trying to get me to hurry up, Fransisco?”

“No, no,” He assured you, trying to hold back a laugh, “Take all the time you need, Sunshine.”

When you giggled, Frankie smiled to himself and, with one last glance at the mirror, left the apartment. He was happy to appreciate the walk to the elevator now that he knew it was one of the last times he’d be doing it.

You had moved in with Frankie just a few weeks after you first got together, each of you seeing no point in you keeping your place when you were never there. Next weekend you would be moving into the bungalow you’d bought together, just a little out of town. Somewhere quiet, though the commute into your office wasn’t bad and the trip for Frankie to the nearby flight school, where he was an instructor, was minimal.

Life had been...perfect since the night you and Frankie had confessed how you felt. He was flying again, thanks to you for helping him clear his record of possession. He got to wake up every day with you wrapped in his arms (he didn’t understand how you were always cold but didn’t complain that you used him as your own personal furnace), and in a week he’d be enjoying a day with everyone he loved as they all helped you both move into the new place.

Hell, even Santi had finally come home after over a year away. Tonight would be the first time out for him since he’d been back.

And Santi, that was a surprising twist. It turned out you and he were quite the match, platonically. When he’d first settled back in just a few months prior, you had ensured Frankie spent time with him and helped Santi through his guilt and grief, to feel at home again. You made Santi feel safe, feel welcome even when he showed up late at night in need of his friend. ‘The door is always open for you, Pope’ you’d said, turning away and missing the emotion on his face, though Frankie had seen.

Tonight, you had agreed to be Santi’s date as well as Frankie’s, to help the struggling man get through tonight’s event. As insistent that Molly had been that they were all welcome, he harboured the greatest guilt and regret for Tom’s death and it was a struggle to convince him he needed to be there, that he was wanted.

Frankie wasted no time pulling the car outside of the building lobby, then climbed out to wait for you. He leaned back against the passenger side door, arms crossed and eyes gazing at the ground, lost in thought. He pulled out his phone after a moment and quickly sent a text off to Santi, letting him know they’d meet him out front at the agreed time, sighing with relief when his friend sent a thumbs-up back.

“Pope not flaking out on us at the last minute?”

Frankie glanced up at the sound of your voice, his mouth opening to respond when he caught sight of you and instead he was merely gaping in surprise, an unintelligible noise rushing out of him. There was no other way to describe it, you were absolutely breathtaking.

He’d seen your dress hanging on the back of the bathroom door earlier that day, knew that the shade of blue would complement your skin perfectly. But...fuck, it hugged you in all the right places, showed off the curves he loved to kiss every day, the swell of your chest perfectly outlined in the tighter-fitting top portion, your legs accentuated by the full skirt and simple, dainty heels. And your make-up was fucking flawless. You didn’t need it, barely wore much most days, but you knew how to do it and told him it was something you had fun doing. This was the first time he’d been witness to the full slate of your abilities, the colours on your eyelids bringing out the brightness of your eyes, your lips plump and full and deliciously red.

After a moment of gawking at you, Frankie realized that you were staring at him in equal surprise, your eyes drinking in every inch of his body. You spoke first, looking away from Frankie and glancing around as you swallowed heavily. “Sorry, sir, thought you were someone else.” You giggled, pretending to look around for Frankie.

“Fuck, Sunshine,” Frankie breathed, standing up straight and feeling suddenly very warm, his eyes unable to stop moving from your chest, down your legs, back up, then down. You gave him a shy look as you descended the steps and came to a stop in front of him, “You look perfect. And your makeup,” He pointed to your eyelids, which looked like works of art in their own right and he wondered how the hell you even managed to do it, “So fucking pretty.”

“Thank you,” You beamed up at him proudly, then dropped your gaze again to look over him in uniform, “I’ve only seen you in pictures dressed like this. I think...You may look too good, Frankie. I’ll be fighting off ladies all night.”

Frankie barked out a laugh, pulling you carefully against him so as not to ruffle either of your outfits, though his semi-hard cock was begging him to just take you back upstairs and bend you over the couch. “Good thing Santi will be there, Cariño, you can just send them his way.” He leaned down to kiss you but paused, remembering your makeup, and instead pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

It surprised Frankie when he felt your whole body shudder in response, a little sigh escaping you. He paused, meeting your eyes curiously and then nearly coming undone right there when he saw the turned-on expression he knew all too well burning across your features.

“Mierda,” You murmured, and Frankie felt both proud of how your Spanish was coming along-you’d been taking lessons-and aroused by your evident desire for him. With a pained groan, he stepped back from you and turned to open the passenger door, holding out a hand for you.

You took hold straight away, allowing Frankie to help you into the car and carefully ensure your skirt was in before he slammed the door shut. Walking around to the driver's seat with a semi in his tightly fitted dress pants wasn’t exactly comfortable, especially knowing he had an entire evening ahead of resisting you and your perfect fucking curves. He considered closing the door on his fingers just to help clear his head.

“You uh, ready?” His voice came out husky and he didn’t miss the way it made your legs clench together. Frankie glanced at his watch, his cock twitching in excitement when he realized you were ahead of schedule. He had a couple of minutes. Without waiting for your response, he pulled the car forward and into the darkened parking lot, rain spattering down and filling the otherwise quiet cab with its soothing sounds. “Sunshine?” He huffed as he pulled over at the edge of the lot.

“Frankie, what are you-?” You broke off when you caught his expression, your eyebrows shooting up first in surprise before you gave him a comically horrified look. “Oh Frankie we can’t, we’re all dressed up!”

He laughed, “Relax, Cariño,” Leaning toward you, Frankie reached down and brushed his hand along your lower leg, humming at the softness of your skin, before moving upwards, pushing under your skirt. He moved more quickly than he normally liked to, but time was a big factor here because he didn’t want Santi waiting outside alone for you to arrive. But he couldn’t resist touching you, his voice coming out in a near whisper, “Relax, sweet girl,” You did as he asked immediately, your legs parting and back easing into your seat.

Frankie grunted when he traced up the top of your thigh and found nothing but bare skin, his hand running across your mound in surprise. He looked down at you and found you watching him with a glint in your eye, biting your lip.

“Thought I might get through a bit more of the evening before you noticed.” You admitted, though your mouth snapped shut the moment he took advantage of your panty-free pussy, easily sliding two fingers inside of you.

You let out a filthy moan, hands curling into fists at your side, and swore when Frankie quickly picked up the pace and began fucking you with his fingers. “Always so wet for me, Sunshine,” He whispered in your ear, holding himself back from kissing your pretty face. He could already feel you tensing, only a few more minutes away from your orgasm, “Dirty little thing, aren’t you? No panties on, you like being ready to be fucked anywhere, don’t you?”

“Fuck, Frankie, y-yeah,” You gasped, your hips bucking slightly, “Want-wanted to surprise you a-after, instead of ice cream,” Frankie growled at your admission, beginning to curl his thrusting fingers just how he knew you loved it. You whimpered and panted for him and the possessive, more animalistic part of him fucking loved watching the way you came undone so quickly for him. It only took another minute for you to come for him.

“Cum Cariño, cum for me you perfect little thing, I want you wet and hot and bothered the rest of the night, fuck,” He groaned when you clamped down on his fingers and let out a cry as your orgasm wrecked you, hips thrashing around. “That’s it, good girl, good fucking girl.” He praised you, slowing his movements until the last remnants of your high rolled over you and you sagged back into the seat.

“F-Frankie, Jesus,” You finally breathed, looking over at him as he withdrew his fingers and placed them in his mouth. You whimpered when he groaned at the taste of you, always so sweet and almost peachy. His free hand palmed his erection, which didn’t go unnoticed. “Fuck, do we even have time-?”

“No,” Frankie admitted, somewhat heavily although he was a little excited at the prospect of the evening being coloured with your need for one another. “We actually really need to go, Santi will be waiting.”

Shakily, you pulled your seat belt on and then reached into the centre console for a tissue. Frankie had to look away as you hooked an arm under your skirt to carefully wipe up your essence, both to calm his roaring blood and in disappointment that he couldn’t lick every last drop up himself like he usually did.

The drive to the banquet hall was quiet, each of you focusing on the rainy town and determinedly not looking at one another. When Frankie pulled up to the valet station, grateful they’d erected a fancy tent for guests, he sought out Santi. You spotted him first, excitedly pointing from your seat and Frankie finally spared you a glance, happy to see your makeup remained smudge-free, though your cheeks were rather red. He smirked.

“Thank you,” He nodded to the attendant as he stepped out of the car, hurrying around to help you out. Blocking you from the view of everyone nearby, Frankie gave you a once over, “You look perfect, Sunshine.”

Grinning, you made a show of checking him out, “Not so bad yourself, handsome.”

Frankie took your hand with a laugh and you both moved forward, eyes landing on Santi a few feet away, his back to you both. The set of his shoulders was telling and Frankie exchanged a worried glance with you before he turned around and spotted you both. He grinned, relief washing his features of the heavy frown, his eyes brightening when you each shot him friendly smiles.

“Hey, Hermano. Wow, I can’t believe that still fits you!” Santi declared, first clapping Frankie on the shoulder before flicking his sleeve.

“I had to sew him in,” You deadpanned, winking up at Frankie. Santi barked out a laugh in response before allowing you to sweep him in a careful hug, mindful of your outfits. “Great to see you, Pope, you look good.”

Frankie swelled with admiration for you; you were so kind, so good at diffusing tension and anxiety just by the way you carried yourself, the easy way you tossed out simple compliments and jokes. He knew it was partly due to your work, you’d had more than one veteran crumble in front of you during appointments, their trauma coming out in the safe space of your treatment room as you tried to make them feel better physically. But Frankie, and the guys, all recognized you had a rare quality about you; a bottomless tank of empathy, understanding, of the drive to care for others. One conversation with the beaten and broken Santi and you made it your mission to aid Frankie in helping his best friend, his brother, as he waded through the same deep shit Frankie and the Miller brothers had needed to after the failure of a mission.

“Querida, you make Fish look ten times better you look so pretty,” Frankie rolled his eyes at Santi’s jibe. His friend grinned mischievously, “Benny and Ironhead are inside already, said we’re all at the same table.” He gestured toward the ornate doors leading into the banquet hall lobby.

Frankie smiled when you reached down and threaded your fingers through his own, squeezing before you raised your other arm expectantly at Santi, who dutifully stepped next to you and offered his arm. Though his friend's brows were slightly pinched in apprehension, Frankie could see he was much calmer than he had been a few minutes prior. Frankie flashed you a grateful look as you steered them inside.

The event had a guest list of three hundred, though the room was it was being held in was so large it didn’t feel overly packed, for which Frankie felt relief. He wasn’t big on any of this, but feeling like a packed sardine would have intensified his discomfort tenfold.

Despite being the shortest of the three, you confidently led Frankie and Santi into the ballroom and around the edge with enough purpose that he realized you must have called ahead to find out where their table was. Your level of preparation was stunning, beyond appreciated.

Frankie was going to make this all up to you later.

“Pope! Fish! Sunny!” Benny roared excitedly from where he stood at the table, which Frankie realized was right next to the Davis families. He flushed at the idea that they weren’t being cast aside, put in a spare table in the corner, but rather gathered right by the family. He glanced at Santi, watching as his friend realized this kind gesture and swallowed thickly in response. Benny, meanwhile, rushed forward with his eyes on you, no doubt about to pull you into a bone-crushing hug.

Santi stepped in front of you and blocked Benny, pulling the clueless blonde into his arms instead, “Hey stupid, you’re gonna mess up Sunny’s outfit!” He laughed, and Benny shot Frankie and you a rueful grin over Santi’s shoulder as you both laughed.

Gentle hugs were then exchanged between the group before Will introduced his date formally, though they all knew the bar owner well enough. Tough and quick-witted, Frankie had always liked Kenzie and had been thrilled when Will finally garnered the courage to ask her out a few months ago. You and Frankie went on double dates with them all the time.

Giving Frankie a gentle hand squeeze, you pulled away and eagerly fell into conversation with Kenzie on the opposite side of the table. Kenzie was almost as tall as Frankie and he found it amusing how much shorter you stood next to the tall blond, even with your heels on.

“Seriously, Fish, she’s something else,” Santi confessed, pulling his attention from you. His friend looked deeply grateful, eyes sharply focused on Frankie, “I can’t thank you both enough for everything since...since I’ve been back. Sunny feels like the little sister I never had.”

Frankie nodded, “She has a way of affecting people more than she knows. And she really cares about you. We both do, Hermano.”

“We all do, you mean,” Benny interjected, clapping both of them on the shoulders as Will rolled his eyes next to his brother. “Now Santi and I need to find gals as great as you two have got, eh Pope?”

Santi snickered, “Either of your ladies have any single friends looking for trouble?”

At this, they all joined in as Santi laughed, and for a moment it felt a little like old times. Those days when they had to attend a stuffy event in uniform; Tom’s absence was felt by all of them now. They took their seats, Frankie between you and Santi, Kenzie on your other side. You kept your conversation going with her but adjusted yourself in your seat so that your back was no longer to Frankie. Almost unconsciously, you reached over and took his hand in yours.

Smiling to himself, Frankie took a sip of the water already poured for everyone from the ice-cold decanter by Benny. A short time later, the event MC, a family friend of the Davis’, took up the podium on the little stage nearby and called a start to the event. They ran through a thoughtful speech about Tom, who he was, why this charity would have meant so much to him, and then called upon Tom’s ex-wife, Molly, to say a few words before dinner would be served.

Frankie felt Santi tense next to him as Molly stood at the podium and adjusted the microphone. From where the three of you were seated, you were watching her speak over Benny and Will’s heads, their backs to you. As if sensing the turmoil, you scooted your seat silently closer to Frankie, who met your soft gaze and felt himself relax at the calming expression you held. He let you pull your hand from his so that you could tap Santi’s arm. He looked around and nodded gratefully when you held your hand for him to take. That was how Frankie ended up with both of your hands in his lap, an arm slung around your shoulders and his free hand laid over both of yours almost protectively.

Molly’s speech was filled with memories, moments of Tom’s life that had tears pricking at the corners of Frankie’s eyes. His excitement of becoming a father, his dedication to helping the kids with homework even though it ended up with him pulling his hair out in frustration. When she spoke of his service, Frankie assumed that she would gloss over the highlights, but Molly took him-took the whole group, really by surprise when she pointed at their table and began to affectionately convey the friendship and brotherhood Tom held with the four men at table two. She regaled everyone with a couple of short stories Tom must have told her, each of them bringing sad smiles to the group's faces as they remembered their stubborn leader and the shit they’d all been through together.

When Molly brought up the trip that resulted in Tom’s death, she told everyone the truth that she knew; that Tom had taken a recon job to provide for his family. And that there was always a risk to that kind of work, which was something Tom knew and understood when he said yes to going.

“The truth is, Tom made his own decision about how to take care of his family. I know that he would have made a calculated decision at every point on that trip, and as much as we wish he was still with us, we know that he was there for us. There’s no one to blame for that, no one who should carry Tom’s choices on their shoulders.” And Molly glanced, very pointedly and briefly, toward Santi.

Santi’s shoulders trembled with the sobs he held in, tears splashing down his face as he nodded once in understanding at Molly. Frankie tightened his hand over Santi’s before looking to you, expecting your expression to be filled with equal emotion and surprise.

Instead, Frankie found you gazing softly at Molly with a satisfied, expectant little smile. And he realized then that you hadn’t just called ahead to find out their table number. At some point, you had contacted Molly directly-hell, you might have even sought her out in person, and you must have told her how much Santi, Frankie and the Miller’s were suffering. How she was the only one who could alleviate any of that guilt and pain and regret. Frankie’s suspicions were confirmed when Molly, now closing off her speech, tossed you a small smile of understanding.

Frankie could have dropped to his knee right there and asked you to marry him. The lengths to which you strode to care for not only him but for the men he considered brothers, wasn’t something he could lightly say thank you for. You repeatedly went out of your way for Frankie, taking on emotional baggage he could only begin to imagine, all without even telling him about it and asking for a thank you.

He struggled through dinner, to focus, to have a proper conversation, his hand often falling to your thigh and squeezing. He wanted-no, needed-to get you alone and show you just how much he fucking loved you. But the dinner dragged on, the food delicious, or so you kept declaring as Frankie could hardly taste it at this point. There were a few more speeches about the charity made throughout dinner, and after dessert, there would be a cocktail hour for people to linger, meet charity board members and socialize.

The moment you bit into your cheesecake, Frankie was about ready to burst, considering throwing you over his shoulder and making a run for it. Santi nudged his shoulder, “You alright, Fish?” He murmured, his voice not carrying as Kenzie and you discussed some renovation ideas the bar owner had in mind.

“Yeah, Hermano,” He ran a hand over his face. Santi gave him a searching look, his brows pulling together. “What?”

“You uh,” Santi paused, checking to make sure you were still distracted, “There’s a little meeting room, down the hall from on the left. They book it during the weekdays, but I bet right now it’s empty.”

Frankie gazed at Santi, confused, “R-right...” He replied slowly, watching his friend's expression turn mischievous.

“So, maybe you slip out for a few with Sunny,” He explained, shrugging and wiggling his brows suggestively. Frankie gulped, shaking his head. “Come on, you’ve both been here for me tonight enough. I can tell you have something on your mind, Fish, I’ll be fine while you two...” He trailed off when you turned in your seat, refocusing on them.

“Why do you both look like you’re up to no good?” You joked, unknowingly hitting the mark and they both glanced guiltily at one another. You observed their reactions, your brow quirking, “Okay, what’s up?”

“Nothing, Cariño,” Frankie replied smoothly, tossing his napkin on the table. He pitched his voice lower, “Can we step out for some air?” You nodded, your eyes flicking to Santi, who covered his smirk by taking a drink of wine, then back to Frankie.

Excusing yourselves from the table, Frankie took hold of your hand and led you out of the ballroom. When he didn’t stop once outside the doors in the quiet hallway, you picked up your speed to match his, “Where are we going?”

“Just down here, quiet spot,” He answered, his pulse increasing the closer he got to the room in question. Right away Frankie could see that Santi was correct, not only was the room where he said, but it was dark, the door halfway open. Sneaking a glance to make sure no one saw you both, he ushered you hurriedly inside.

You took a few steps into the darkroom, spinning around as Frankie hit the lock and did a quick survey of the space. Aside from the glow from the red fire exit sign, the room was still and empty. Santi had said the room was used for meetings, but apparently, on weekends it ended up as backup storage space because there was an assortment of black leather furniture in place of any tables or chairs.

“Are you alright, Frankie-Oomph!”

Frankie had grabbed your arm and jerked you toward him, hurriedly backing you into the wall before slamming his lips to yours desperately. When his body pressed you against the wall, you moaned in delight and parted your lips, allowing him to taste you. He was in a frenzy at this point, needy and hard already; it took him a minute to undo the fastens and buttons on his dress pants, his lips never leaving yours.

“Fucking hell, Sunshine,” He gasped, finally pulling his hard length free, his pants pushed down around his thighs, “Look at what you do to me, can’t keep my head on straight. I fucking love you.” Aside from kissing him back, you hadn’t moved since being thrust against the wall, the overall surprise of private, passionate Frankie pulling you into a random room rendering you speechless in the best kind of way. When he spoke your eyes dropped to where his hand fisted over his cock and widened in pure desire.

“W-what’s gotten into you?” You whimpered out as Frankie released his length, crouched down and grabbed the backs of your thighs, lifting. He held you against the wall with one hand and used the other to frantically push aside the extra material of your skirt. “Not complaining here, but I just-oh, fuck!” Your hands grasped his shoulders hurriedly to keep yourself steady.

Frankie surged his hips forward the moment he revealed your bare pussy, knowing you would still be wet from your earlier orgasm. He let out a satisfied grunt when he pinned you to the wall with his cock, his lust intensifying when your legs wrapped around him and you let out a weak, desperate little moan. He set an almost brutal pace then, his eyes drinking in every blissed-out expression that crossed your face, watching for any signs of discomfort.

But you only grew wetter at his rough handling of you, the spontaneous, almost dangerous situation seemingly working to increase your arousal. He had to clap a hand over your mouth when you started moaning and crying out, “Shh, sweet girl, don’t want anyone coming in here and seeing how weak you get for my cock, do we?” He growled when you clenched around him at his words, then continued. “F-fuck, so tight. Do you...have any idea how amazing you are? Th-think I wouldn’t realize how much you did for us, that you spoke t-to Molly.” His hips were moving at the perfect pace, drawing the best moans from you that he quieted with his hand.

You looked at him with heavy-lidded, lust-blown eyes, your brows raising in surprise at his admission. He felt your mouth move against his hand and lifted it to let you speak, “Y-you knew?” You gasped out in a soft voice.

“Not till tonight,” He clarified, punctuating his statement with an extra hard thrust. You whimpered, eyes rolling despite your determination to continue the conversation. The sight of you entirely cock drunk was making Frankie feral.

“I-I did it for you, all for you,” You sighed, eyes closing, “Oh Frankie, I love your cock baby.”

Frankie put his hand back over your mouth and tilted his hips, knowing exactly how to draw out the loudest screams.

“Cum for me, Sunshine. Soak my cock, then take my cum. You can walk around the rest of the night with those pretty thighs clenched, hold it all in until I can stuff you with more at home,” Frankie’s face was right next to yours, his thrusts almost sloppy but he could feel how close you were and knew you’d topple over the edge together. “Fuck, marry me, marry me, I love you so much and I want to marry you, ah shit!”

You came, clenching hard around him as your body jerked in spasms of pleasure, your scream so loud his hand barely contained it, and then Frankie slammed as deep into you as he could and came, his cock soaking your insides with his spend. He dropped his head into the crook of your neck and muffled his yells there, holding you both still as the waves ebbed.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” You gasped out, your body quivering in Frankie’s arms. He lowered you both down to the floor somewhat shakily, his hand shooting under your dress to capture any cum that spilled out of you from the motion. You all but collapsed against the wall, your eyes squeezed shut as you worked to catch your breath.

Frankie reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a pack of travel tissues, carefully wiping you and his hand up to avoid any spills onto your dress. Though, his cock did twitch at the idea of you walking back into the ballroom with his cum dribbling down your legs. “You okay, Cariño? Still with me?”

“Yes,” You replied, your eyes opening slowly to meet his gaze. A goofy grin appeared, your eyes blinking in slow motion as you settled from what had been the most frenzied fuck of your relationship. Frankie chuckled warmly, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Yes, Frankie.” You repeated when he pulled back.

Frankie grinned, “I heard you the first time.” He joked, tossing the used tissues into a nearby wastebasket.

“No, Frankie, I mean yes.”

Frankie stilled, glancing down at you in confusion-had he gone too hard? Was he going to have to sneak you out to the car because he’d fucked you silly? But then Frankie saw your expression, no longer dazed and blissed out, but now the most intense look he’d ever seen, so fierce he almost flinched. Realization slammed into him like a freight train.

“What do you...are you saying?” Frankie babbled, shaking his head once to focus, “Sunshine, are you saying yes to-“

“Yes, Fransisco Morales, I will marry you.”

His mouth dropped open in shock, your words reverberating around in his now empty head. You just said yes to marrying him. You said yes. Holy shit, you said yes.

“I-are you serious? You really want to marry me?”

You laughed, pulling Frankie into your arms and peppering his face with kisses, “Yes, si, absolutely, affirmative. I want to marry you, Frankie, I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

Frankie’s heart was about to shoot out of his chest, “But I didn’t ask you right...I-I fucked it up, I have a ring at home, I was going to-“

You shushed him with a kiss, “This was perfect. You did not fuck it up-you did kind of fuck me up, but the proposal was perfect, Frankie.”

“Probably not something we can tell the kids about one day though.” He replied, grinning when you burst into fits of giggles. He couldn’t help but touch you then, his hands trailing your arms, the sides of your face, down the curve of your neck, “Seriously, though, Sunshine-need you to know how much I love you. You mean everything to me, you are everything. I-I know this might be fast, but I’ve loved you for over two years and nothing feels more right than the idea of you and I getting married.”

You beamed up at Frankie, “Kinda worried about getting all dressed up for the wedding-seeing as you can’t seem to control yourself when I’m fancied up,” Frankie barked with laughter, happiness filling him from head to toe. “But seriously, Frankie, I love you too. Ring or not, fancy proposal or proposing while railing me into the wall, it’s always going to be yes.”

“Come here,” He murmured, pulling you close and pressing his lips to yours gently. “Thank you, for everything. For tonight, for these past few years, for saying yes.” He sighed happily, hugging you close in the darkened room as you each worked to catch your breath.

He felt you shift your head to speak, but before you could there was a loud banging on the door that startled you both. Frankie instantly tugged you closer, though he felt your hands slip between your bodies and pull his dress pants back around him properly. Thankfully, the door didn’t open, however-

“Hey, when you two are done fucking we’re going for drinks!” Benny called, his voice laced with laughter.

Santi’s voice joined in a moment later, “Christ, Benny, I told you to leave them alone-I told him not to look for you!” And then the sounds of a scuffle could be heard and you started giggling as Frankie struggled to do his pants up and get to the door, cursing when he nearly tripped.

When Frankie ripped open the door, his two friends immediately stopped play fighting and turned to grin at him knowingly, mouths opening to tease and promptly snapping shut when you appeared at Frankie’s side, carefully smoothing down your dress as you smirked at them.

“Boys, you realize you’re buying now, right?”

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#frankie morales x reader #triple frontier x reader #francisco catfish morales #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #reader insert #frankie morales smut #triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader

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capitainelevi · 3 years

Text

For @pufferssss, happy late birthday!! ❤️

Waiting for sunrise

Words: 2968

The first and last time Levi visits Petra`s grave.

Levi arranged his cravat again, self-conscious at the thought of visiting her for the first time. He stood frozen in place, with a bouquet of orange lilies in his hand. Her favorite flowers. Just a mere coincidence, not an effort on his part, of course. He never imagined he would visit her here so early on. Staring at the newly carved headstone, he tried to set aside the nagging thought that the earth underneath it only held an empty coffin.

What should he say to her?

“Your dad came to see me after the mission, and I had to tell him that I don`t even have a body to bring back home to him”?

“I failed in getting justice for you and the guys”?

“I miss your tea”?

The only words he could spurt out were “Hi, Ral.”

He groaned at his awkwardness and settled on presenting her with the flowers he chose for her. He could feel his hands getting sweaty from anxiousness, much to his confusion. He had nothing to be nervous about. It was just Petra in front of him. His subordinate. Petra, who fought by his side for years. Who swore to devote her life to him. Just his Petra.

Levi sat on the ground next to the gravestone, unconcerned about the dirt he would have to clean out of his clothes at the end of the day. “I hope you can hear me, wherever you are. I like to think you`re listening.” He never spent much time concerning himself with death and the life that supposedly followed it, but ever since losing them as well, he found himself wishing they were happy. He knew that those brats would be wasting the rest they earned to look over him, no matter how much he objected.

“I hope you like the spot I chose for you. It`s sunny, but you also get some shade from the tree. I thought you`d like listening to birds singing." On their free days, he could always spot Petra with a book on her lap, under the shade of the oak tree in their yard. He never dared to bother her, worried he would disturb the angelic aura of the image, content with being fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of it. He never dared get so close to the sun.

"I`m going to bring some flowers we can plant next time I visit. I know you had a green thumb.” Levi omitted in letting her know it only took a month for the plant in his office that she cared for years to wither away in his care. Or maybe it just knew Petra would never be back.

Levi closed his eyes, lulled to sleep by the quietness around him and the feeling of the afternoon sky on his skin, considering if someone would bother him if he moved to the tree trunk to nap. He craved some peace.

“I`m sorry I didn`t get to come earlier. You missed a real shit show in Sina.” He took a glance at his wounded leg and sighed. “It`s not as bad as it looks, no need to mother me.”

Without raising his eyes from the ground in front of him, Levi admitted to her in a hoarse voice- “I kept calling out orders for you, and Erwin had to remind me that you`re not here anymore. Like I could ever fucking forget.”

Despite the emptiness in his chest, he went on- “Eren misses you. I really wish you could help me manage that brat. You always knew what to say to him. Hange misses you. I… everyone misses you.” They left a hole behind that he doubted he would ever patch.

Levi cleaned off some dust from her headstone before promising her he would be back as soon as he could.

As promised, the second time Levi visited her, he got her some daisies to plant next to her resting place. After wiping his hands clean on a rag, Levi sat down against the tree trunk to admire his work. He was sure Petra would be proud of the progress he made regarding gardening. He had even gotten a new plant to replace the one on his desk.

“Tch, not talkative today, are we? That`s alright, you know I always talk a lot.”

Visiting her calmed his restless spirit. His anxiety over the plan, his worry over Erwin`s wellbeing, his longing to have his old squad by his side again, they were all pilling up for the last few days. Levi found himself losing even more sleep lately. But he would never tell her that since it would most likely end in another one of her scoldings.

“You`re missing it, the final push. The brat`s finally going to do it, he`s going to seal the Wall.” Levi hoped that they would be able to carry out the mission. That his squad`s sacrifice to keep Eren alive would not have been in vain.

“You`re not being fair, are you? You already know what we will find in the basement, and yet you keep it all to yourself. Tch, be like that.” Would it all be worth it? The pain, the countless sacrifices, and the lives lost along the way? He wished Petra could answer that for him.

He never wanted to upset her, but Petra always encouraged him to let others help him carry the burden. Levi took a deep breath before speaking again- “I think Eren misses you. He`s been going on about how he wants to visit you again. Bring you flowers. To help me maintain this place clean." Levi rolled his eyes again and the memory. "Like I would ever need his help with that.”

Levi took the ribbon out of his pocket and started fiddling with it, ignoring the slight pang of guilt at how he came into its possession.

“I hope you won`t mind I took that.” The first night he spent without them, Levi found himself roaming the empty corridors of the castle. When his steps took him in front of Petra`s door, the urge to hold on to something physical to remember her overtook his sense of shame. He was aware that her belongings would go back to her parents in the next few days, but he hoped the red ribbon Petra used to tie her hair with would not be missed.

“I took your patch at first. I was going to keep it in my breast pocket. To have a reminder of your sacrifice. But when I saw that kid eaten up by guilt, I knew what I had to do. I knew what you would have wanted me to do with it.” He had no regrets about that. It was the perfect way to honor the kindest soldier the Survey Corps ever had.

When the light began to fade, Levi got up from his spot and left without saying another word to Petra. He did not want to say goodbye to her. Levi felt no need for it since death could be in his cards the next day. And he could get to see her again sooner than he thought.

The third time Levi visited her, it was not with a flower bouquet in his hand but with a bottle of cheap alcohol he found on Moblit`s desk. That night, Levi allowed grief to consume him.

"Erwin died. But I have a feeling you know that already, don`t you?" Levi wiped his nose with the back on his hand, too absorbed in his anger to even care about the disgusting habit.

"Are you mad at him? Are you mad that he chose to sacrifice your life?"

But only silence greeted him.

"Are you mad that I didn`t even question it?"

No answer again. The rage burning inside him overtook him, and Levi smashed the bottle against the headstone.

"Shit. I`m sorry, I shouldn`t have done that." Levi crouched down and collected the pieces of the bottle into his handkerchief. The grief, the anger, and now the shame for denigrating her place of rest were eating him alive.

"We found out the truth, you know? It`s a shitty world out there, Ral. But I have a feeling not even that would have cut off your wings."

Levi found himself craving touch. Her touch. And for the first time in his life, he felt the need to be comforted. He smiled to himself bitterly. How cruel must the deity who created him be for making him desire the impossible?

The fourth time Levi visited her, he brought a special gift for her. A small, odd thing that Armin called seashell.

“We saw the sea today. Just a big old pile of saltwater. But you would have loved it.”

Seeing the brats play in the water with carefree smiles on their face made him yearn for a glimpse of amber hair in the picture. He missed them all dearly.

“I would have to pull you out of it by the collar of your shirt, I bet.” For as devoted and strict as she was, Petra always seemed to cause him distress. Not that he minded it, of course. Levi found himself wishing to hear her timid knocks on his door again, even in the middle of the night. He longed for those times, where she shyly approached him after needing his help in whatever problem she found herself stuck in again.

While that was not his intention when he first came to her, his heart was heavy with words he never said to her. "The world hates us, Ral." He could never imagine how someone would ever detest someone as kind as Petra just for the blood running in her veins. But if he had to be true to himself, a part of him hated Petra as well.

"Maybe I hate you too."

Petra broke his promises to him, after all. Two years ago, when death was imminent on an expedition, and Petra put down her swords in acceptance, Levi fought with her. He made her promise she would make it to the end. That she would be by his side the day they kill the last titan.

"Do you remember your promises to me? Such bullshit. Never thought you were a liar, Petra."

But Levi knew she would have never left him had she had a choice. That she would have fought for even just a second more by his side. But it never dulled the pain of losing her.

With a heavy heart, Levi said his goodbye for the evening, guilty for blaming her for things out of her control.

The fifth time Levi visited her, it was snowing outside.

It was always a wonder how someone radiating light and warmth could be a winter child. But Levi was sure he memorized the date right. It was an important one for him, after all. Levi fought to make sure he had enough time to get ready for celebrating her birthday. She deserved nothing more than a perfect day. Hange had been more than understanding, the wound left by losing Moblit still fresh in their heart.

Levi put the bouquet of twenty-two golden roses on the frozen ground. “Happy birthday. Twenty-two, huh? You`re turning into an old woman, Ral.” The irony of his words made a slight pang of guilt rise in his chest. The passing of time would never touch her again.

“I have your favorite”- he said, lightly shaking the box containing a small vanilla cake. Sugar was a rarity, but getting a cake was an unspoken rule in his squad. Their lives were too short to worry about the money. The first thing Levi noticed about Petra was the faint flower smell emanating from her. The first thing after setting his eyes on her clean nails, of course. On her first birthday that they celebrated as a squad, Levi gifted Petra a bottle of scented body lotion. And some high-quality cleaning rags, of course. But she did not pay attention to that. She and the rest of the Survey Corps never knew how to appreciate the finer things in life. But Levi did not miss the way her face lit up when he noticed something she enjoyed.

“I could never understand your sweet tooth, but today, I`m going to have a slice of cake.” Levi always refrained from indulging in this vice. Having grown unaccustomed to sugar, the idea of sweetness was unappealing to him. He always felt bad for disappointing her each year when she sat in front of him, with a small piece of cake she had cut for him. “Or two slices. Two is more appropriate anyway. If I get cavities, it`s on your ass.”

The ground was too cold for him to sit down on, and Levi made a mental note to build a small bench close to her headstone. He opened the box and eyed the cake wearily, considering if he should change his mind. He took a small bite of the cake, and he almost choked on it. “Oi, this is so damn sweet. How the fuck could you eat so much of it?” But it did not stop him from finishing his slice.

Levi expected to find some flowers lying in the snow or at least some tracks leading up to her grave.

“Does your old man still come around? I`ve never crossed paths with him since the expedition.” Sometimes, when he closed his eyes at night, he could still recall Mr. Ral`s pained expression when he realized there was no one left for him to wait for.

“Maybe it`s for the best. I bet he doesn`t want to see me again.” To see the face of the man who was supposed to protect his daughter. The face of the man his daughter wanted to devote her life to. The man who could not even bring him a body home to bury.

“I`m a shit. Ruining your birthday with talk like this.” Levi was never good at this. In his spot, Eld would have teased Petra about her first expedition. Tell her how now that she was a big girl, she ought to refrain from soiling herself again. Petra would turn red from embarrassment and elbow Eld in the ribs. Gunther would point out that despite their age, they are still children. And proceed with teasing Petra himself. Oluo would try to defend Petra`s honor to gain her attention, which would make him the target instead. Levi gave a small smile at the thoughts. He missed them dearly, more than he would ever care to admit.

Levi crouched down and cleared the layer of snow covering her headstone. He ran his finger alongside the letters of her name, wishing he would have had more opportunities to write it down.

“Happy birthday again, brat.”

The last time he visited her, Levi had company. Gabi and Falco did not give it another thought before offering to help him see her again before they would all leave for a new life. A better life, he hoped. But without her by his side, it was never going to be perfect. Gabi set down the flowers before they gave him privacy. While they never asked him about who she was, they knew Levi must have cared for her a great deal.

"Hi, brat. It`s been a while."

He had so much to say to her, and yet, he did not know where to start. A part of him expected to join her during the last battle, but fate always had something new in store for him. Levi was uncertain if it was luck by his side or a curse to watch everyone he ever cared about die. But life was looking brighter, and Levi promised himself he would never lose anyone again.

"Are Hange and Erwin with you now? How about the guys?" He wished for nothing more than to be there by their side. But Levi knew they would never forgive him if he did not try to live the remainder of his life to the fullest. And for them, he would try.

"Does Oluo still bite his tongue? Did he try to flirt with you again? Is Eld still teasing you? Does Gunther still treat you as a little sister?" Levi chuckled at the memory of their antics. He learned the hard way that he never appreciated them enough before he lost them.

"I hope there is an afterlife. I hope it`s peaceful. You all deserve it. Such a shitty end..." He closed his eyes and sighed at the words coming out of his mouth. "I`m sorry, I didn`t mean it. But you already knew that. I was always an open book to you."

Levi felt guilty for leaving the home they bled for behind, but if he were truthful, it had not felt like home to him for years. With no one left by his side, nothing was keeping him in Paradise anymore. While neither of them voiced it out, he had dreamed of a future with Petra by his side. And for her, he would try to live a long and happy life. Before he got to be with her.

"I`m sorry... for the future I never got to offer you. The one you deserved. I`m sorry for the house I never got to build for us, for the vows we never got to take, for the brats that will never play in my backyard." Levi knew Petra would encourage him to find love, but he never would again. He could never imagine a future by someone else`s side.

Levi glanced back at her grave for one last time before he set out for the remainder of his life- "I`ll see you soon. Wait for me."

ao3

#petra ral #rivetra #rivetra fanfiction #rivetra fanfic #my writing

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dreamsclock · 3 years

Note

Quackity: So the smart thing to do would be to use your power over mob mentality to—

Schlatt: No can do pumpkin, Aries season is over. Now if you can make a plan around me emitting the fragrance of a ballpoint pen, that I can manage

Quackity, holding back tears: Fuck you and fuck your dumb power

I HAD TO WRITE THIS HELPPP THIS IS SO FUNNY ,,,,

okay so the actual fic doesn’t take place until after c!schlatt’s death, so think of this as a spin off from those times before the fic is set !! :)

WARNINGS: alcohol, toxic relationship (not shown too much here but c!q and c!schlatt end up in a very very VERY bad place by the end of their friendship/relationship, so just general warning if that kind of knowledge makes you uncomfy!)

Schlatt.” Schlatt jumps as his office door is flung open, almost spilling coffee over himself; Quackity is more hyper than he’s ever seen him, eyes glittering in sleep-deprived excitement, shoving the door closed behind him and dropping his bag to the floor. “Okay, so I’ve been thinking—”

“Careful with that.”

Quackity shoots him a glare, but isn’t to be deterred. “Fuck you. I’ve been thinking— Don’t you dare interrupt me again, asshole, I swear to fucking God— I’ve been thinking, and it took me a week, but I’ve put together a pretty decent plan of how we can track down Wilbur and Tommy.”

“Oh?” Interested despite his disdain, Schlatt drains half his coffee, eyes the flask of whiskey on the window ledge, and pours half of it in, before straightening up. “I’m listening.”

Quackity preens, sitting down on the edge of his desk and pulling out a stack of plans, all of them looking as if they’d been done in varying degrees of exhaustion and grief. Schlatt glances at them dubiously. “It’s simple,” Quackity says, laughs a little, in disbelief, “okay, so we only need a couple of things.”

“For you, sugar plum, the world,” Schlatt drawls sarcastically, very suspicious now, because the last time Quackity had requested ‘a couple of things’, it had turned out to be diamond shoes, and they had been uglier than they had been expensive, which is saying something, “what do you need?”

“About a dozen of your men,” Quackity squints at his own writing: Schlatt resists the urge to pull the papers out of his hands and read them himself, if only to stop Quackity straining his eyes, “uh.... A dozen of your men, a dozen energy drinks, something of Tommy and Wilbur’s, and, of course, us.”

Schlatt doesn’t like where this is going — he’s a lot of things, and perceptive certainly is one of them. He returns Quackity’s grin a tad brighter than he should have. “Alright. That sounds fair. So what’s your plan?”

Quackity jumps to his feet, energetic, wings spreading and fluttering in his eagerness to explain. “Okay! So it starts with your power—”

“My power?” Schlatt questions, wincing.

“Yeah,” Quackity snorts, “what, are you drunk or something? Yeah, your powers.”

“No, no, I was just wondering what you mean by my powers.” Schlatt waves a hand, taking a long gulp from his coffee and preparing for the inevitable. “Explain to me.”

“It’s simple. We use your mob mentality thing on the men we gather, and then that’s where I’ll—”

“No can do,” Schlatt sings, draining the rest of his coffee (more whiskey at this point) and wincing as it burns down his throat, “what’s the date?”

Quackity falters, eyes widening in sudden horrified understanding. “...April 18th.”

“April 18th, April 18th...” Schlatt turns to his calendar, staving off what comes next by pretending to consult it. “...Yeah, no luck, pumpkin, mob mentality is out.”

“It’s.... Out?”

“Yeah, Taurus season now.” He’s pleasantly surprised by the power he has marked in his calendar for this season. “Can you mark me in an order of fifty strawberry scented pens?”

Quackity’s eyes roll to the heavens in search of patience and kindness. He finds none. “Can I fucking what?”

“Well, it’s Taurus season, Q, which means this is the season I can smell like a ballpoint pen, if I want.” Schlatt taps his own pen (unfortunately not strawberry scented) against the desk thoughtfully. “And I do want. So you go back to the drawing board, try and scheme up something involving this phase of my powers, and put in an order for me for strawberry scented ballpoint pens.” And then, when Quackity looks like he’s going to explode, Schlatt pulls out the puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

“I am going to kill you,” Quackity says, very politely, “and make it look like an accident.”

Schlatt cackles, watching his fiancé leave the room, slamming the door shut behind him as he did so. Good. Quackity had been getting a little too loud for his liking anyway.

April 18th. Heh. He glances in amusement at the calendar, which very clearly and plainly marks in April 20th as Taurus season, not April 18th.

It had been worth skipping an opportunity to capture Wilbur and Tommy to see Quackity’s dismay.

At least his ballpoint strawberry pens will be here for Taurus season starting in two days.

#> my asks !!#> my writing !!#> beeduo super au #> beeduo super au writing #tw alcohol #tw toxic relationship #(low-key but esp. in this au lolol just not shown in this ficlet!)

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sodone-withlife · 3 years

Text

i know who i am

summary: really, he never saw himself ever willingly letting anyone in on his broken past, but here he was, sitting in across from Waipo in the tiny cramped office at the back of the shop and nervously sweating about what he was about to tell her

read it on ao3: chapter 1 is the original version with Mandarin, chapter 2 has everything translated into English

the movie really hit me hard as an ABC, and I really wanted to write something for it. even though she barely had any screentime, I loved Waipo—she reminds me of so many of my relatives—so I decided to make her be one of the most important people in Shangqi’s life, and it turned into this wonderful mess (i had to stop writing this for a bit because I literally made myself cry). there is mandarin in this, it's kind of intended to be a physical manifestation of how my bilingual brain works (i did put the English-only version first, the original version with Mandarin is under that one but the formatting for it one is better on ao3, so i suggest reading it from there). apologies for my shitty mandarin; I have mediocre language skills, but I'm still so excited to be able to incorporate it in my writing. in regards to the character's names: I only know for certain the Chinese characters used for Shangqi and Wenwu, but for Xialing, I'm going to go with what it apparently was in the hong kong release (夏灵, with 灵灵 as the nickname)

English Translation:

“Waipo, do you have a bit of time?” Shangqi stood in front of Katy’s grandma, fidgeting nervously as fluent Mandarin rolled off of his tongue with an ease he's never felt in any other part of his life. “I want to talk to you about something."

She pinned him with a knowing stare. “Does it have anything to do with the trip you and Katy went on this past week?" she asked, Not waiting for his answer, she got up from the shop register and beckoned him into the back office. Feeling oddly like the first time he came into the store years ago as a teen—when he first met Katy’s family who had since taken him under their wing—he followed her into the familiar, cramped space.

He wasn’t exactly sure what within him prompted this interaction. He had come to San Francisco for a normal life, to get as far away from his father’s reaches as he could and to outrun the blood that stained his footsteps.

Never did Shangqi imagine that he would end up claiming the ancient rings that now sat in a heavy-duty (thanks to Xialing, with whom he now keeps in regular contact because of the promise they made to each other before he left the compound because he already left her behind once, and he’s never doing it again damn, my baby sister is running the Ten Rings now, and she’s trying to turn it into something better) and a very well-disguised (thanks to the sorcerers in the New York Sanctum and holy shit he’s in contact with famous superheroes now) back in his mess of a studio apartment.

Never did he imagine letting anyone in on his broken past, and even though his hand had been forced when it came to telling Katy, here he was going to the second person who truly saw something in him when he first started his new life and planning to tell them everything.

(Okay, fine, Shangqi wasn’t actually planning on letting anyone else in on it after telling Waipo, not even the rest of Katy’s family, but he really didn’t want them to be so involved yet—he still had no idea what he himself was doing and he wants to preserve what normalcy he can.)

(Also, he’s been reliably informed that anyone close to a public figure is bound to be targeted for attacks—which he figured out when the mercenaries attacked on the bus because yes, Lingling, he does have brain cells thank you very much.)

“Little Dragon, what’s on your mind?”

Little Dragon.

He started at the nickname, the one originally given to him by his mother. Somehow, it had completely slipped his mind that Waipo also called him that, starting a few weeks after he first met the Chen family. He barely kept it together, the long-unused nickname dredging up memories he had thought left him forever.

You have the heart of a dragon, she had declared firmly when he asked her why she decided on that particular nickname.

(That was exactly what his mother had told him right before she died, and yet he stood by, hidden behind a door, and did nothing while the men beat and killed her, the heart of the family.)

(He would carry the guilt with him for a lifetime.)

It was a while before he could bring himself to visit the family again—there were a lot of awkward excuses before Katy reluctantly backed off—and it took even longer for him to get somewhat used to the name again, but he eventually started seeing it as a gift with each faint impression of happier days that he got every time Waipo called him that.

Old, weathered hands gently covered his own, which were shaking and clammy with nervousness. Shangqi wondered how Waipo would react to the darker side of the lost boy she had basically adopted all those years ago, wondered if the legends of Ta-Lo and the Great Protector were known outside of the rather insular communities that continued to tell the stories, wondered if she had heard about his father through the stories that were passed down for thousands of years, from generation to generation…

(It can’t be wrong to miss him, can it? Even with the years of hell Wenwu had put him through, he was still his father. Shangqi still faintly remembered the man his father had been when his mother was still alive, the happy times they shared as a normal family…)

(But those times were long gone, ripped from their grasp by the past Wenwu wanted so badly to leave behind. Grief had shattered the whole family, and it ultimately led to the children fighting the father who had been driven to near madness in his denial, in his quest to put his broken family back together again.)

Mom, I miss you so much.

(And now Wenwu is dead, just like his beloved wife.)

(But just as she died to protect her children, he did the same. Now, his children are reunited and in contact again, getting ever closer despite living as far apart as they did, and he was reunited with his love in the afterlife.)

Finally, he straightened his posture and took a deep breath, looking directly at Waipo, who he’d come to view as the grandmother he never had.

“Waipo, have you heard of the legend of the Ten Rings?”

And Shangqi told her everything.

He told her everything and more,

She listened.

She listened as he described the legends behind the Ten Rings, Ta-Lo, and the Great Protector; his father’s history; his own history, from witnessing his mother’s death to ripping open the throat of the man who killed her when he was barely a teen, from leaving Lingling behind to seeing her again in the fight club she built from the ground up, from returning to the compound after a decade away in San Francisco to the battle in Ta-Lo…

Finally, he fell silent and stared at his hands but it wasn’t long before Waipo moved, slowly standing up with one hand on her cane. He made to help stabilize her but was quickly waved off with a stern look. He sank back into the chair and felt her move behind him. The shaky weight of her hands on his shoulders as she gently pressed down and straightened his posture was familiar, even after years of not having his posture deliberately—so gently—fixed like that every time he saw Waipo.

“You are the legacy of all who came before you, but you are your own person.” she finally said gently, and the tension in his shoulders slowly loosened under her familiar touch. “You decide your own fate.”

~~~

That night, Shangqi knelt before the altar he had in his apartment, the only part that was carefully maintained in all the years he had lived there. But now, two smiling faces stared back at him, a joy reflected in their eyes that he knew would disappear in less than ten years after the photo was taken.

Am I still your pride and joy? Lingling grew up, but I didn’t even take care of her like I should have.

I swear to you, I will never abandon her again

Even as his life got even more unbelievable as the years went by, the altar and his copy of his parent’s wedding photo would remain a constant. He and Lingling dove deeper into their family history—of the Ten Rings, of Ta-Lo, of both the good and bad—and both worked to carry on their parents’ legacy.

(With all of the proper discretion agreements and threats when needed, of course.)

Lingling is dating my best friend now, and they’re so happy together. Mom, I know you would have loved Katy. Dad, I know you didn’t like her much, but she really is a wonderful person.

Life went on.

There were the good days, when he went out with others and could almost feel normal, and there were the bad days, when phantoms pains plagued him and he woke up from a restless sleep expecting to see bruises mottling his body like they did so often when he was younger.

(Also, he was considered a superhero now and holy shit that’s still insane, even years after he first got in contact with the Avengers and the sorcerers in New York. Now he was going all over the West Coast, to help the locals take care of whichever crazy supervillain decided to wreak havoc that day.)

Dad, I hope you find this story as funny as I did: I helped a group of American superheroes yesterday. They’ve never been to San Francisco before and were extremely unfamiliar with the roads, especially Lombard Street. They spent half an hour trying to drive down the street, but I ended up driving them down myself.

(San Francisco was still home, and he had found a life there with all his friends and Xialing whenever she visited. He had a job now, too, at the local youth center teaching martial arts and self-defense, teaching and guiding the youth in a way he wishes his father had with him.)

People came into his life; some stayed, some left, and some even got together.

Mom, Dad, Lingling and Katy are getting married today and everyone is so excited for them. I’m taking over the Ten Ring within a month so Lingling can take a break. She’s led the organization for so long, it’s my responsibility now. I hope I can live up to her standards, she’s done really well. She’ll be back in a few years, but even after, I’m going to be much more involved to lessen Lingling’s workload.

Shangqi walked the path knowing who came before him and who was still with him.

Most importantly, he walked the path knowing who he was—demons, flaws, strengths, and all.

Mom, Dad, don’t worry. I’ll take care of them.

I hope you’re happy together in the afterlife.

~~~

Don’t be afraid, Shang-Chi, for you have heart of a dragon and the power of the Ten Rings.

We will always be with you and Xialing.

Original Version w/Mandarin

“外婆，您有没有一点儿时间？” 尚气 stood in front of Katy’s grandma, fidgeting nervously. “我想告诉您一些事情。”

She pinned him with a knowing stare. “是不是跟你和瑞雯这前个星期去的旅行有关？” Not waiting for his answer, she got up from the shop register and beckoned him into the back office. Feeling oddly like the first time he came into the store years ago as a teen—when he first met Katy’s family who had since taken him under their wing—he followed her into the familiar, cramped space.

Never did 尚气 imagine that he would end up claiming the ancient rings that now sat in a heavy-duty (thanks to 夏灵, with whom he now keeps in regular contact because of the promise they made to each other before he left the compound because he already left her behind once, and he’s never doing it again and damn, my baby sister is running the Ten Rings now, and she’s trying to turn it into something better) and a very well-disguised (thanks to the sorcerers in the New York Sanctum and holy shit he’s in contact with famous superheroes now) back in his mess of a studio apartment.

(Okay, fine, 尚气 wasn’t actually planning on letting anyone else in on it after telling 外婆, not even the rest of Katy’s family, but he really didn’t want them to be so involved yet—he still had no idea what he himself was doing and he wants to preserve what normalcy he can.)

(Also, he’s been reliably informed that anyone close to a public figure is bound to be targeted for attacks—which he figured out when the mercenaries attacked on the bus because yes, 灵灵, he does have brain cells thank you very much.)

“小龙，你有什么心事儿？”

Little Dragon.

He started at the nickname, the one originally given to him by his mother. Somehow, it had completely slipped his mind that 外婆 also called him that, starting a few weeks after he first met the Chen family. He barely kept it together, the long-unused nickname dredging up memories he had thought left him forever.

你有神龙之心，she had declared firmly when he asked her why she decided on that particular nickname. You have the heart of a dragon.

(That was exactly what his mother had told him right before she died, and yet he stood by, hidden behind a door, and did nothing while the men beat and killed her, the heart of the family.)

(He would carry the guilt with him for a lifetime.)

Old, weathered hands gently covered his own, which were shaking and clammy with nervousness. 尚气 wondered how 外婆 would react to the darker side of the lost boy she had basically adopted all those years ago, wondered if the legends of Ta-Lo and the Great Protector were known outside of the rather insular communities that continued to tell the stories, wondered if she had heard about his father through the stories that were passed down for thousands of years, from generation to generation…

(It can’t be wrong to miss him, can it? Even with the years of hell 文武 had put him through, he was still his father. 尚气 still faintly remembered the man his father had been when his mother was still alive, the happy times they shared as a normal family…)

(But those times were long gone, ripped from their grasp by the past 文武 wanted so badly to leave behind. Grief had shattered whole family, and it ultimately led to the children fighting the father who had been driven to near madness in his denial, in his quest to put his broken family back together again.)

妈妈，我太想你了。

(And now 文武 is dead, just like his beloved wife.)

Finally, he straightened his posture and took a deep breath, looking directly at 外婆, who he’d come to view as the grandmother he never had.

“外婆，您听说过 ‘十环’ 的传说吗？”

And 尚气 told her everything.

He told her everything and more,

She listened.

She listened as he described the legends behind the Ten Rings, Ta-Lo, and the Great Protector; his father’s history; his own history, from witnessing his mother’s death to ripping open the throat of the man who killed her when he was barely a teen, from leaving 灵灵 behind to seeing her again in the fight club she built from the ground up, from returning to the compound after a decade away in San Francisco to the battle in Ta-Lo…

Finally, he fell silent and stared at his hands but it wasn’t long before 外婆 moved, slowly standing up with one hand on her cane. He made to help stabilize her but was quickly waved off with a stern look. He sank back into the chair and felt her move behind him. The shaky weight of her hands on his shoulders as she gently pressed down and straightened his posture was familiar, even after years of not having his posture deliberately—so gently—fixed like that every time he saw 外婆.

“你是所有在你之前的人的遗产，但你是你自己的人，” she finally said，“你决定你自己的命运。”

You are the legacy of all who came before you, but you are your own person. You decide your own fate.

~~~

That night, 尚气 knelt before the altar he had in his apartment, the only part that was carefully maintained in all the years he had lived there. But now, two smiling faces stared back at him, a joy reflected in their eyes that he knew would disappear in less than ten years after the photo was taken.

我还是你的骄傲吗？灵灵长大了，但我也没好好照顾她。

我向你发誓，我再也不会抛弃她。

Even as his life got even more unbelievable as the years went by, the altar and his copy of his parent’s wedding photo would remain a constant. He and 灵灵 dove deeper into their family history—of the Ten Rings, of Ta-Lo, of both the good and bad—and both worked to carry on their family’s legacy.

(With all of the proper discretion agreements and threats when needed, of course.)

灵灵跟我朋友最近开始谈恋爱，他们俩可开心了。妈，如果你还在我们身边，我保证你会喜欢她。爸，我知道你一开始不太喜欢她，但她确实是一位精彩的人。

Life went on.

爸爸，我希望你跟我一样觉得这个故事很好笑：我昨天帮了一组美国超级英雄开车。那是他们第一次来旧京山，对道路非常陌生—尤其是 Lombard Street。他们开也开不好，花了半个小时慢慢的开下去。最终，我把他们的车开下去的。

(San Francisco was still home, and he had found a life there with all his friends and 夏灵 whenever she visited. He had a job now, too, at the local youth center teaching martial arts and self-defense, teaching and guiding the youth in a way he wishes his father had with him.)

People came into his life; some stayed, some left, and some even got together.

妈，爸，灵灵她今天会跟我最好的朋友结婚，我们都很兴奋。我一个月之内开始接管十环的业务，让灵灵休息休息。她干了多少年了，现在是我的责任。我希望我能辜负她，她管的非常棒，帮了许多人。她几年后会回来继续当领导，但我好像在领导方面发挥更大的作用。

He walked the path knowing who came before him and who was still with him.

Most importantly, he walked the path knowing who he was—demons, flaws, strengths, and all.

妈，爸，你们放心吧，我会照顾他们。

我希望你们俩来世都幸福。

~~~

尚气，你别怕，你有神龙之心，十环的力量。

我们永远会在你和灵灵的身边。

#i’m so sorry if the mandarin is shitty #the format is better on ao3 #but i’m so excited to be able to at least try it #shang chi spoilers #shang chi and the legend of the ten rings spoilers #shang chi fanfiction #shang chi #shang chi and the legend of the ten rings #marvel fanfiction #mcu #shang chi imagines

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geekgemsspooksandtoons · 3 years

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My Spider-Man Ideas

Because I’m glad my good bro @kaijuguy19 asked me about this. I want to say and it’s not a secret I’m actually a big Spider-Man fan. And ever since last year. I wanted to make my own take on the character. And maybe I still will one day. But smaller maybe. But ever since this post I made. https://geekgemsspooksandtoons.tumblr.com/post/662905966119075840/to-be-honest-i-just-wanna-say-i-feel-like-maybe-i I think it’s best I just talk about it.

In a way, I feel like this is what The Amazing Spider-Man series could’ve been maybe. Which is something I wanted to talk about. Despite some big criticisms towards that franchise. I don’t mind it’s place, and we can’t change history with it. And Spider-Man is in the MCU now.

This may not be all finished yet. Or put together much better. But this is practically my, “The Dark Knight” of the Spider-Man character. Yet also, I feel like maybe it’s best I don’t touch the Spider-Man franchise.

Because I feel like if fans, non fans, and whoever read this. They would honestly think, “GeekGem, please go back to The Mask franchise” because while I love Spider-Man, and the themes his character represent. Along with the many characters and stories. That have even inspired the likes of The Mask Rebirth strangely. But The Mask is maybe a series that is...maybe more suited for me...

I just wanted to say that I think people would be like, “Go back to The Mask franchise please. And never touch any Spider-Man related again” but I’m being way too harsh about myself. Now let’s begin. XD

Part 1.

I wanted to strangely make my own Spider-Man in a sense like Batman 1989. But I feel Spider-Man 2002 fills that hole. Including one of the old ideas that Peter has been Spider-Man for 5 years with no huge villains. But recently, it had gone to maybe his second year instead. Him being 19 and in college. With the origin not shown, but cleverly shown and told maybe akin to how Spectacular told it. And what I wanted Homecoming to do possibly. Or even something like that 2017 series.

It mainly dealt with Quinten Beck’s Mysterio. And it was basically a more mature version of, “The Menace Of Mysterio” and basically, Mysterio’s first apperance. With Beck trying become a superhero by framing Spider-Man. But after he frames Spider-Man. He tries to showcase he’s even more of a hero by deciding to kill criminals. I remember a friend of mine understanding that he called him an evil(er) version of Neil Druckmann/Quentin Tarantino/Ken Levine.

Even though I was really gonna look into his story because comics had gone in more depth with him.

Other characters like Mary Jane, Gwen Stacy, Harry Osborn, Aunt May, and the employees at the Daily Bugle would be involved. With the main story of Peter recalling why he became Spider-Man in the first place. And with Mysterio practically being a foil to him. And there is the inclusion of Silver Stable being brought to take down Spider-Man. But her job has become more troubling with Mysterio. Yet I question if I still want her in this.

Including it developed into something like the upcoming The Batman movie. With maybe Beck losing it more because the police hate the fact he’s begun killing criminals. But anyway, I wanna leave as it is. I just remembered the Silver Stable part. I wanna talk about the one I thought of the most. The one that I really wanted to do. Forgot to put Captain Stacy in this. Since I just wrote him down in part 2.

Part 2.

This idea is basically my The Dark Knight for Spider-Man. Like, literally. With the idea of using the Green Goblin, and really showcasing how dangerous the character is. And I really wanted to test the words, “With great power comes great responsibility”.

Think of this story if the Green Goblin replace the Joker in The Dark Knight. And you replace certain characters with Spider-Man characters. But if I recall, it’s mainly this idea of Goblin trying to teach Spider-Man the consequences of being a superhero.

Going in line with his original version like he first appeared. This is Norman Osborn. But it’s never revealed until the end. And it’s kind of a mystery. And with Norman faking his death by a terrorist attack by the Green Goblin. With Norman before that, acting like an older and kind fatherly figure. When in reality, he’s a genuine horrible person hiding behind a persona. And with the Goblin persona, his abilities and all that. He uses the Green Goblin as an outlet to unleash who he truly is. Going with what how the 616 version of him is. There’s no split personality.

I will admit, the faking his own death thing might backfire on him if he wins. Maybe him with a back up plan that Norman was alive, and was taken hostage by the Goblin. With Norman making it look like that.

In a nutshell, the Green Goblin is practically who Norman is deep inside. And he tries to become the leader of organized crime. Until he meets Spider-Man. Where in this version, Green Goblin is like a cruel teacher, and he wants to really teach Spider-Man what it’s the huge consequences of being a superhero.

This dude is literally more like a boogeyman. He’s if Arkham Knight’s Scarecrow and Heath Ledger’s Joker were fused into one. But he‘s also basically if Ghostface was a supervillain with powers and gadgets. He has the glider, but he does other shit. Despite his original intention, he becomes Hell bent on making Spider-Man understand the responsibility of what he’s doing.

With Green Goblin becoming more of a terrorist. That it becomes so bad. That Silver Stable is brought in likely by Captain George Stacy. That this problem with costumed people has gone too far.

Goblin is killing members of the Wild Pack, police officers, and he’s just causing chaos to bring Spider-Man down. But when he figures out who Spider-Man is. It becomes even more personal.

At first, it seems like the story is gonna go the way of, “The Night Gwen Stacy Died”. And it’s scary because Gwen knows who Peter is, and is with him. But it’s different, with not Goblin taking an unconscious Gwen to the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s still the Brooklyn Bridge. But instead he kidnaps her, leaves her tied and gagged surrounded by a bunch of barrels that will explode. There’s no Spider-Man accidently killing Gwen with his webs. But instead...what happens is...much worse. To me personally.

Spider-Man saves Gwen, and stops the barrels from exploding. But it doesn’t go the route of, “What if Gwen Stacy had lived?” storyline. Instead, the Green Goblin’s plan wasn’t to kill Gwen. But something to destroy both her, and Peter mentally.

Instead, when Peter tries to go back to May’s house. Aunt May is literally killed by a bunch of hidden explosions. And during the same time or a little later. Captain George Stacy in his office is killed by similar hidden explosions.

What happened is that because Goblin found out who Spider-Man was, and knew who he was dating. He felt like it was too easy to kill Gwen. But he wanted to do something possibly more extreme. Something that would still make Peter snap. But also destroy his relationship with Gwen.

He took the words from Spider-Man 2002, “The heart Osborn. First, we attack his heart” to literal heart. He kills Aunt May, and George Stacy in the most horrific way. Including destroying the home Peter grew up in. And after some time. Goblin literally calls Peter to pretty much rub it in that these are the consequences of him being Spider-Man. And that Gwen wasn’t the one he wanted to kill. With him possibly ending the conversation, talking about how it’s gonna end.

That it will end with one of them dying. But he doesn’t care. If Green Goblin kill Spider-Man, he wins. If Spider-Man kills Green Goblin, Spider-Man will be viewed maybe more as a menace. Because he likely killed Green Goblin out of pure rage. Which Goblin tried to create, he unleashes the anger that Peter tries to hold in. And with his mother figure killed in such a way, and a friend who was like a new father figure killed in a similar fashion. It’s literally a cruel test Goblin is trying to pull.

And in the end, during some stuff, with Spider-Man nearly killing Goblin like in the comics. But soon stopping himself when he learns that it was Norman all along. And it ends with Norman like the 2002 film and comics, accidently killing himself with the gilder. He never comes back, he’s truly dead.

On one point, Spider-Man stops himself from killing Goblin, and Norman kills himself instead. But the other point is something else instead. Norman is revealed to the the Green Goblin, putting Oscorp in a heap of shit, and people looking at Harry strangely. And despite comforting each other, but because of the horrible events.

Gwen decides that it’s maybe best to break up with Peter. Understanding her being with Peter seemed to have gotten her father killed. She doesn’t hate Peter. But she seems to hate Spider-Man. That persona, not Peter himself.

Part 3.

This was the most challenging one. Because I really wondered about the villains. There was Kraven with possibly a Kraven’s Last Hunt story. Hobgoblin because Peter would lose his shit at another Goblin. But also the idea of the symbiote suit being in the story. And during this whole development process from last year. Characters like Miles and Black Cat were involved. But I’m not sure now. With the idea that Miles may become a Spider-Man one day. And Black Cat being bothered by black suit Spider-Man.

Yet recently, despite it may feel overstuffed. But it’s not three villains. And it could be as long as it wants.

This part is basically Spider-Man 2 fused with Spider-Man 3. With the big focus of the aftermath of Green Goblin's destruction upon New York City. And Peter’s grief with the loss of Aunt May, George Stacy, and Gwen deciding to leave him. Despite he fully understands and respects Gwen for leaving him. But it’s hard.

But also with Mary Jane truly becoming Peter’s true love. After the traumatic loss and Gwen leaving New York. I know and understand Gwen’s death was a huge part of changing Mary Jane as a person because they were friends with a friendly rivalry that I recall. I...wanted to make it less depressing. Despite May was the one replacing Gwen’s death. Because that seems maybe more powerful, it depends on how you see it. Mainly with the idea that May never did anything wrong, and it was such an easy kill for Goblin. It’s like Uncle Ben’s death all over again.

Yet again, the concept of part 3 is of Peter truly embracing being Spider-Man. And not letting his darkness take ahold of him after the death of the woman that raised him. With the symbiote bringing out repressed anger even more. And made worse after the death of Aunt May.

But it’s Mary Jane that helps him overcome that darkness. And I wanna share this video that explains that more. Because I feel like that could’ve been an amazing plot point for The Amazing Spider-Man 3 if done right.

The video is by Sevenwebheads. I loved this guy before he sadly left YouTube out of nowhere.

youtube

And with how I talked about this part. It being Spider-Man 2 fused with Spider-Man 3. The villains being Doc Ock, and Venom. And in a sense, Peter is his own villain. Because of the symbiote.

It’s possible Doc Ock like his 2004 film version is maybe more sympathetic. And honestly more understandable as a villain than Norman Osborn.

Quentin Beck/Mysterio is a man who is crushed by his ambitions, and being a foil to Peter’s belief about responsibility and being a superhero.

Silver Stable is a mercenary that’s more like a complex character. Yet gets into conflict with Spider-Man. Not really a villain.

The Green Goblin/Norman Osborn in this is pretty much the embodiment of pure evil. Practically enjoying what he is doing, and not caring what the consequences are. A total anti-thesis to everything Spider-Man represents. And would make other villains or anti heroes look at him like, “What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

With Doc Ock again, being more sympathetic, but still a villain. Akin to Spider-Man 2′s Alfred Molina. And Eddie Brock, who I think should have sprinkled throughout this three part story.

With Venom and Eddie. I really like them both, I really do. But I wanted to do a version that would make sense. Instead of copying the 616 version or only the Ultimate version. Considering in a sense, the 616 Eddie isn’t much of a foil to Peter. Where the Ultimate version seems more like that in a sense.

I feel like the symbiote shouldn’t be an alien from outer space. Because that opens a whole can of worms. I seriously feel like the alien aspect doesn’t mesh with the more grounded take of Spider-Man. And it just at times makes me feel fine with the idea of Venom not being included in Spider-Man’s mythos. Despite how iconic he is.

So the symbiote’s origins would be more involved with science than from outer space. And with Eddie not only being a bit more complex. Yet he is also a foil to both Peter and Mary Jane. While you can understand him, he practically becomes more unhinged and possibly has some relations with Peter like in Ultimate and Spectacular. And when I think about, even using some elements from The Amazing Spider-Man 2 mobile game version of Eddie/Venom.

His character would be more in line with how Todd McFarlane and David Michelinie introduced the character. But while there is some dark comedy. It’s seriously more frightening. Another boogeyman in a sense like Green Goblin. With his first appearance being like in The Amazing Spider-Man issue 299. And Venom representing one of the many mistakes Spider-Man made. That being the birth of Venom and it bonding to Eddie Brock. Creating a villain that Peter feels responsible for.

I guess in a sense, I wanted to use three of Spider-Man biggest villains. Those being Green Goblin, Doc Ock, and Venom. With Mysterio and Silver Stable included. There is the idea of Carnage. Even though I liked the inclusion of Carnage in The Amazing Spider-Man 2 game. And Cletus is truly a foil to everything Peter is. I really wanted to showcase Venom as that. Still wondering about Black Cat because I love Felicia.

With this part. Considering how tough this whole trilogy is. This part is basically I guess, the light in the darkest hour.

Where you have moments like a black suited Spider-Man nearly killing Doc Ock, and even before that, ripping off one of his arms, or maybe all of them. I’m not sure. But it’s nearly killing Doc Ock that truly makes Peter if his anger has truly gone too far. And an interaction with Mary Jane who is the biggest person who has been comforting him. Helping him through his grief, after everything that had happened with him.

Peter chooses Mary Jane over keeping the symbiote. And because of his rejection of the symbiote, it bonds with Eddie. Who is practically a final test for Peter in this story. The dark reflection of what he could’ve became. A man despite you can feel for him. Eddie slowly became more sociopathic, became more irresponsible, and becoming more consumed with hate and anger.

The light rising above dark, and moving on with life. Because if we cling on to the past. We’ll be stuck there forever. And with Peter being a pessimist who has optimistic moments. This whole trilogy is like an endurance test of him as Spider-Man.

I really wanted to bring to life the earlier stories of Spider-Man from Stan Lee and Steve Ditko. It’s basically a love letter to the character and his mythos. Focusing on some more darker elements like Peter’s anger issues, and other things. But also dealing with the many themes about the character. But it’s even more rough when you replace Spider-Man 2′s Doc Ock with Green Goblin. And you maybe place Doc Ock in Spider-Man 3.

Even though I feel like Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy is maybe the perfect representation of the character. Despite all the criticisms towards Spider-Man 3. And other people’s nitpicks among many things. I feel like those films REALLY got Spider-Man right. Along with others like The Spectacular Spider-Man cartoon and others.

Think I’ve said enough. I’ll talk other stuff in the reblogs. But yeah...which I’ll say this in a reblog. Despite I don’t mind flawed films...I wished The Amazing Spider-Man franchise took a direction like this.

#GeekGem Rambles

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 3 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: grief and mentions of unhealthy coping, terminal illness and death.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3: Virginian Spiderwort Means ‘Momentary Happiness’

“Eat lunch,” a sandwich along with a muffin and coffee was dropped on Alex’s desk, who jumped slightly in his seat and looked up.

“What?” he asked dumbly.

Thomas rolled his eyes: “You’ve been at it since six, I don’t even know why you were in that early that’s ridiculous, who comes in that early on a Thursday? And I haven’t seen you leave once. You need to eat, so eat, dumbass.”

“How do you know I started at six?”Alex asked.

“I didn’t, you send me an email around then, so I made a guess and you just confirmed it,” Thomas shrugged, ignoring Alex’s squawk, “Now eat.”

Alex picked up the lunch and started eating, while Thomas dropped into the chair opposite of him and watched him, sipping his own coffee.

“You’re just gonna sit there and watch me the entire time? Where is your lunch?”

“Already ate it and yes,” Thomas answered, “I know how this goes, you’ll come up with a good sentence and stop eating to write it down and then it’s a few hours later.”

Alex looked guilty and chastised, so he closed his laptop, which he had been staring at, and focused on Thomas: “So, how have you been?”

“That’s so awkward, I feel bad for us both,” Thomas cringed.

“Well, I’m sorry that I am not a great conversationalist,” Alex threw up his hands in defeat.

“According to Angie you are,” Thomas immediately regretted it, he didn’t want Alex to know he and Angelica talked about him.

“Yeah, but most of the time people I’m talking to aren’t you.” Fuck, was that too revealing? Did Thomas know he was struggling, because of stupid feelings?

“I’m sorry my face upsets you,” Thomas rolled his eyes, misinterpretingthe comment“Anyway, how did you get in so at six, I’m pretty sure schools don’t start that early. Where did you put Philip?”

“Oh, Pip is with Eliza and Maria for the week,” he said, “Eliza is so busy after the opening of the orphanage and they thought having a kid comfortable with them there would help the others get out of their shell and Pip had missed his Aunties. He’s staying till Wednesday.”

“And you decided that working abnormal amounts was smart when you got a bit of a break from your usual responsibilities?” Thomas judged, not so silently.

Alex grinned sheepishly and shrugged: “It’s what I do best, but I’m not being a complete dumbass, I leave a a somewhat normal time, I swear.”

“Hmmh.”

“I’m serious, I promised Angie I’d leave each day before six and she checks, it’s terrifying,” Alex shuddered and Thomas laughed: “Hear, hear.”

After that Alex quickly ate his lunch while they talked about the latest meeting, which lead to Alex complaining about Lee and Adams and how they could go fuck themselves.

When his lunch had completely disappeared, Thomas got up to leave. Before he could, however, Alex called out: “Hey, Thomas?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks again. For, you know, checking up on me,” he said awkwardly, “If you, like, ever need help or something, call me, okay?”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Thomas promised, not thinking the day he would take Alex up on it would come anytime soon.

He was wrong in that assessment, because that Monday he called Alex, hands shaking and eyes blurry.

“Thomas? What is it? I’m already at work.” Of course he was, it was only 6:15 in the morning, who wouldn’t be at work at that time.

“Can you-” a shuddery sigh that he hated, “Can you tell Wash- Washington that I’m not coming- coming in today?” he asked.

“God, Thomas, are you alright?” the worry was evident in Alex’s tone.

“Not really,” Thomas sounded small, “I didn’t want to bother you, but Jemmy is away and I normally can handle this stuff, but it was all unexpected and now I’m here on my fucking kitchen floor calling you. Fuck.”

“I’m coming to you.” Alex said.

“You don’t need to-”

“Yes, I do. Come on, I’m not leaving you like that. You’re getting a motherfucking patented Hamilton hug, live with it,” Alex told him, “I’ll be there as soon as I can, hang in there.”

“…Okay,” the line went dead.

Alex hurried to Washington’s office, for once grateful that the man liked to come in early on Monday’s to ‘kick off the week right’ or whatever.

“Come in.”

“Sir, I’m taking the day off,” Alex burst in, “Thomas is not coming in either, he just called me. I thought, I’d let you know.”

Washington looked surprised: “You and Thomas…?” he trailed off curiously.

“Nothing like that, sir,” sadly enough, he added mentally, “He helped me out in a rough spot and I’m returning the favor. We found we had something in common.”

“Well, then go. An honest man always returns his favors, son,” Washington shooed him out of the office.

“Not your son and thank you, sir,” Alex said gratefully, before rushing off.

The drive to Thomas’s, admittedly very impressive, house took about thirty minutes and Alex was out the car and on the driveway immediately as he practically ran to the door and knocked: “Hey, hey, Thomas. It’s me, open up.”

After a moment the door swung open, revealing a Thomas Alex had never seen before.

He was in sweatpants and a loose tank top, his eyes were red-rimmed and his hair a mess. But above all, he looked small, hunched in on himself and lacking the confidence and arrogance that usually clung to him like a second skin.

Alex didn’t waste a second gathering him up into his arms. It wasn’t as comforting as it could have been because Thomas was a fucking giant and therefore could not fit into Alex’s arms completely, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

Thomas clung to him tightly, chocked off sobs being ripped out of his chest as he cried.

They just stood there in the door opening. Alex couldn't really move Thomas around like the other had done him, so he just had to wait.

“Sorry,” Thomas said after a while, his voice raw as he broke away.

“No sorry, not today, okay?” Alex told him, “Now, why don’t we set you down on the couch, yeah? It’s more comfy and definitely better than the porch.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Thomas agreed and numbly walked over to a living room, Alex trailing behind him.

Thomas collapsed on the couch, looking like a miserable heap and Alex had to pause and think of a plan of attack. He’d been a Lieutenant Colonel, he could do this. First, he needed to know the situation.

He sat down next to Thomas: “Hey, dude, can you tell me what happened? You said it was unexpected, what hit you out of nowhere?”

“Phone,” Thomas gestured vaguely to the kitchen, then didn’t elaborate beyond a, “Got an email.”

Okay, not much information, but a lead.

Alex went to the kitchen, there was an uneaten bowl of soggy cereal on the counter and a phone on the floor. He threw the cereal away and toasted some bread before he picked up the phone and read the start of the email:

My dearest, Thomas

I hope the future finds you well. Yes, the future! I found this site in which you can write emails that will be send 10 years later, so I do hope you’re still using the same email address or this will be awkward.

You may be wondering why today? It’s not a particular date for us, but I’m writing you this email because I know I won’t be there when you read it.

I had another attack today, but you know that of course, though maybe you’ve forgotten all the attacks through the years. We’ve been doing this for over three years already and I know I have not been writing the dates down.

But none of that now, this was supposed to be a pick-you-up, because I love you, dearest.

Alex stopped reading, this was not for his eyes. He quickly did the math. Thomas had said she’d died seven years ago, this was written ten years ago, so they still had three years together at this point.

God, he couldn't imagine what it was like to know your lover was dying and you could do nothing to stop it, just prepare for the inevitable.

The toast popped out the toaster and Alex locked the phone, before putting the toast on a plate and getting a glass of water. He walked back to the living room and handed Thomas the food as he gently said: “Come on, you can’t be sad on an empty stomach.”

That got a small amused huff from the Virginian, which Alex counted as a win.

He ate slowly and in silence and Alex just waited for him to gather himself. This was not a date on where you expected the missing to hit, there were no fun rituals – like on a birthday – to keep or something to celebrate or commemorate.

Just sadness.

Sudden sadness.

Alex looked at Thomas, who softly chewed on his toast. He didn’t think dragging Thomas outside today would be good for him. He needed time to process the message, to think of what his late wife wanted him to know for when she wasn’t there.

He now regretted not reading the rest of the message, just so that he could have a grip on Thomas’s thoughts, but he knew it had been the right thing to do.

When the plate was empty and the glass gone, Alex announced: “Okay, we’re having a sad couch day, but you need to tell me how to operate your TV and where you keep blankets, because you need a blanket nest to be sad in, alright.”

Thomas blinked at him owlishly for a moment, then shook his head with muted amusement and whispered: “TV is just normal and there is a guestroom, second door upstairs, I keep the blankets there.”

“Good,” Alex got up, “Are you alright for a moment?”

The other only nodded. Alex didn’t like how quiet Thomas was. He might not be the loudest person, but there would always be a presence hanging around him that made him feel like the loudest person in the room and that was now completely gone.

Alex rushed through the house, dropping of the plate and glass in the kitchen and putting on the kettle, before taking the stairs two steps at a time.

At times like these he was happy he had top surgery, because catching your breath with a binder on fucking sucked and running overall was a bad idea.

The guest room was less extravagant than he’d expected. It was decked out for comfort and stylish, but it wasn’t over the top. Actually the whole house was more stylish than expensive just for the sake of being expensive, something Alex hadn’t realized before.

Of course, the only befores there had been were company parties that Thomas had offered to host wherein he showed off on purpose.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen pictures during those parties either.

He grabbed the blankets and some pillows from the guest room and went back downstairs carefully, he didn’t want to trip or drop the blankets, but he also just wanted to be nosy.

The walls were still void of pictures.

It tugged at Alex’s heart, his own walls had been bare before he’d met John and all his other friends and they’d filled it up over the years of happy moments, but Thomas had nothing. Though he didn’t have time to dwell on it now, he had more important matters to attend to.

Thomas was still in the same position he’d left him in, staring at the still turned off TV. Alex dropped the blankets on the floor, only scooping one out of the pile to drape over Thomas’s shoulders, before finishing the tea.

How strange, he mused as he made the tea, me and Thomas are neither tea drinkers, except on days like these, except with each other.

He walked back to Thomas and handed him the mug, relieved when the other took it gratefully and let the steam warm his face as he burrowed into the blanket slightly.

Alex was still concerned about the hunched over position, which was rich coming from him, he knew, but getting lost in work and fucking up your posture was different than getting lost in grief and fucking up your posture.

So, he gently pushed Thomas back into the pillow of the couch and Thomas went easily. For all the man could fight him on every little thing at work, he wasn’t putting up a fight now and Alex was glad for that fact, even if it was slightly disturbing.

Taking the blankets, he draped them over Thomas and himself after he’d grabbed the remote and put on a nature documentary.

Thomas gave him a bemused look and Alex was never more relieved that Thomas was judging him, anything was better than that empty look in those usually lively eyes.

“It’s soothing,” he shrugged, “and low effort.”

“Fair,” Thomas nodded, his voice hoarse and raw, making Alex regret not putting honey into his tea, because it sounded like it hurt.

They sat in silence as they watched a frog hop over a leaf while the narrator told them slightly horrifying facts about the creature in a monotone voice.

After about an hour of animal facts and nature relations, Thomas spoke up: “She asked me if I had any kids yet.”

Alex looked up, but didn’t speak, just let Thomas figure it out.

“We wanted kids, I think maybe me more than her to be honest, though she loved being an aunt,” he went on, “But with her condition, well, pregnancy was just too risky and when we knew just how serious it was… Neither of us wanted to make an adopted child go through losing a parent again, so we never had kids.”

He took a shuddery breath: “And then she asked if I had them, she hoped I found that and I don’t know-”

Tears were falling again and without thinking Alex pulled Thomas into his side and Thomas didn’t protest as he burrowed his head closer. He whispered: “I always knew she wanted me to move on from her, live a good life, but hearing it again after having time to process her being gone. It’s- it’s different.”

Alex just ran a soothing hand over Thomas’s back as he thought about that. After a second he slowly said: “Knowing and accepting are different things and sometimes one is harder than the other.”

Thomas mulled over his words, then said: “Well, I hate accepting.”

He didn’t tell Thomas that moving on was good, that it was healthy. Both of them knew that well enough, they must have heard it a thousand times from concerned friends. It was always meant well, but sometimes you just didn’t want to hear it, not in moments like these.

“She told me she had something to say to me, but she didn’t know what just yet and that she had to think about it and tell me when she figured it out, because she still had time,” Thomas broke the silence again.

“That- that must be hard to read,” Alex told him.

The other nodded into his side, then said: “I think I know what it is though…”

“Do you want to share?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, she- I never realized this, but she started telling me how I would do great things and I better have a picture of her with me so that she could see it. I keep her in my wallet. I always thought she meant in the world. Big responsibility to have on my shoulders, but I tried. For her.”

Thomas fiddled with the blanket, he wasn’t looking at Alex, but he seemed content to curl up in the shorter man’s side.

“But I’m suddenly startingto think that’s not what she meant,” the words sounded small and Alex’s chest constricted painfully. He didn’t know how he would react if something he’d believed about John for years would be ripped out from under him one day without warning.

“What do you think she meant?” he asked, trying to keep Thomas talking, maybe if he said it out loud it would make more sense than when it swirled around in his head.

“I- I think she meant that I would- ugh- it’s- you had to-”

“Take your time.”

“She was always telling me about the great things in life, but she loved The Lord of the Rings, those books and movieskept her company throughout all the hospital visits. Her favorite quote was: ‘Saruman believes it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that’s not what I found. I found it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folks that keep the darkness at bay’,” he explained.

There was a moment of silence in which Thomas hesitated.

“It might be stupid, but I think she subconsciously absorbed that. That for her the great things were the small things,” Thomas said, “I once took her on a simple picnic and she said it was the greatest day of her life.”

Alex nodded along, he could already see where this was going, but he let Thomas set the pace of the conversation.

“I think she meant that I would get to do all the little things that made life great, have all the milestones we never got to have, but she phrased it in her own Martha-esque way,” there was a smile in his voice as he said that.

“Did she always have her own way of saying things?” Alex asked, hoping to keep whatever was bringing that smile to Thomas’s face going.

“Yeah,” a success, “she read a lot and she listened to a lot of music. She played guitar, wrote her own lyrics too. She was great with words, much better than me. I think she just consumed so many ways people expressed themselves through words that she had her own dialect. It was completely English, but just slightly different. It’s hard to explain.”

“I get it,” Alex assured him, “She sounds wonderful.”

“Oh, you would have liked her,” Thomas said, sounding strangely proud of that fact, “She took the time to make fun of my magenta suits in her email to me,” Alex snorted at that, “And you both take no shit and it’s easy to talk to you.”

Alex was shocked at that, no one told him he was easy to talk to. He had opinions and would let you know immediately, making you debate if you disagreed with him. Sure, he could be charming, but he made you think when you talked. It wasn’t easy.

He said nothing.

“Apparently she wrote it while I was next to her,” Thomas suddenly said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was asleep in a chair. It was after one of her attacks, I think I remember this one, because it suddenly got way more serious after that, it was the heaviest we had in months,” his voice trailed off into a whisper, “We’d thought she was doing better.”

God, Alex couldn't imagine and that voice felt like a punch in the gut, his arm reflectively tightening around Thomas.

“Fuck, in the email she said she still has time,” Thomas breathed, “I know it was still a while after that before she- she died, but- God, it fucking hurts, Alex. We knew we didn’t have forever, but reaching thirty would have been fucking nice.”

There was that all familiar anger at what could have been if faith hadn’t decided to be so cruel. Alex knew it oh so well and just watched as Thomas clenched his fist, but didn’t get up. The anger drained out of him almost as quickly as it had come and his heaving breaths turned into sobs.

And if that wasn’t familiar as well.

Alex quickly brought up the other arm and pulled Thomas into a hug. They were cocooned in blankets and cuddling on the couch and it should be weird, but it just wasn’t.

It seemed Thomas was done talking now, because he stayed silent as the time dragged on. Once Alex realized he wasn’t going to talk, he started humming. Alex had never done well with quiet, though he didn’t mind that much, but he more thought it would nice for Thomas to have something other than his thoughts to focus on.

They sat there until their stomachs decided it really was time for lunch. Alex offered to make it so that Thomas could stay seated, but while Thomas gratefully accepted his offer to make lunch, he followed him into his kitchen and sat at the table.

His eyes fell on the phone that Alex had left on the counter when he had made them tea. His fingers twitched, but he didn’t move any further than that, conflicted look on his face. Alex let him figure it out on his own and just focused on making French toast.

In the end he picked up the phone and stared at it for a moment, before putting it down on the table, screen down.

He pushed the French toast around his plate for a while, Alex didn’t say a thing, just watched him patiently. If Thomas didn’t want to eat that would be bad, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world for just a day.

It might be bad for Alex to let Thomas indulge in bad habits, but he promised himself he would make sure it was a one of thing. He managed to make sure Philip ate and slept enough despite his own inability to take care of himself, he could do the same for Thomas.

Thomas ate a few bites, it was hard to pretend to care about food right now, but Alex had tried and he knew Martha would hate him neglecting himself.

God, Martha and her stupid- No, he couldn't think that, she meant so well, but it just hurt. She should have told him.

Though that might have been worse.

He looked at his phone again, uncertainty creeping in. Would Alex think it was a bad idea to read the email again? He just wanted to know if he hadn’t imagined it. He hadn’t really committed it to his memory like all her other writings through the tears, but he doubted he would be able to read it without crying all over again.

An idea suddenly came to mind. It was a stupid idea, but Alex had seen him suggest multiple stupid ideas so it wasn’t anything new.

“Can you read it to me?” the words were out before he even realized.

“What?”

“The email,” he clarified, “Can you read it to me?”

“You’d want that?” Alex seemed unsure and Thomas could feel the doubt creeping in.

He shook it off, he’d made up his mind: “Yes, I just want to know the whole thing, but I can’t really read it, because I’ll start crying, so you have to.”

Alex hesitated for a moment: “Alright, if you’re sure…”

“I am.” Thomas unlocked the phone and handed it to Alex, trying to ignore how his hand shook slightly.

After a deep breath, Alex started:

“My dearest, Thomas

You may be wondering why today? It’s not a particular date for us, but I’m writing you this email because I know I won’t be there when you read it.

But none of that now, this was supposed to be a pick-you-up, because I love you, dearest.

I know I tell you all the time, but maybe you haven’t heard this in a while by now, so I’m telling you again. I love you so incredibly much and you deserve all the love in the world and I hope you have someone to remind you.

It might seem strange for your wife to hope you have found love again, but I truly do hope you went on to live a happy life with people who love you and make you happy.

God, maybe you’ll have kids.

If you do, tell them that their Aunt Martha is watching over them from the stars. I promise to guide their little feet home to you safely and sing them lullabies when they’re having a nightmare, just a song between them and the moon.

I don’t want my passing to be the end for you. I have seen your soul and I know there is so much in store for you, I just can’t place my finger on what, but I still have time to figure it out and I’ll tell you when I do.

Now that I’m writing this, I honestly don’t know what to tell you. I thought I would have a hundred pages ready for you, but I don’t.

You know that moment when you have dinner with someone, but you’ve been with each other the whole day, so you can’t ask them how their day has been? It’s kind of like that.

I have seen you the entire day today and if I hadn’t I can tell you in person in a bit, but by the time you’re reading this, you’ve had time to make new memories without me and you can only tell them to my grave or my picture.

This is so morbid. Sorry, dearest.

I could take more time to think about what I want to write you, but I have this strong urge to finish it now. It’s almost like I’m running out of time. I am, in a way. But I still have tomorrow, the doctors said I’ll make it through the night with no problem and I’ll be discharged tomorrow. They say I have a good chance at a few more years and by God I hope they’re right.

It’s ironic how you’re asleep in an uncomfortable hospital chair by my side as I’m writing this.

You stress too much. It makes you look old. I know I’ve always joked about you being an old man, but you don’t have to make it a reality by aging from the stress.

I hope the creases by your eyes become more pronounced than the ones on your forehead. I hope so many things for you and I hate that I can never give you all the care you’ve given me.

You’re a good man, Thomas. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

I know you worry. You worry too much, just like the stress. Just promise me you won’t give in to all the doubt you create for yourself. Appearances aren’t everything, I know you care about style (the magenta suits are really taking it a bit too far, you are lucky I love you, you ridiculous man), but try comfort every once in a while as well, okay?

Now, I’m sounding like my mother, God this whole email has gotten out of hand…

Not that I had much of a plan to start with. I saw this and just had to write to you, to tell you how worthy you are and how much I wanted to have a forever with you.

It feels rude in a way to write you like this, you might have moved on, created a new life and I’m disrupting it from beyond, but I know you, Thomas, I know you so well that it hurts sometimes and I also know that you have a hard time letting go.

I hope you have that life we could never have.

I hope you’ve found a job that makes you happy, with a spouse that cares for you and a picket white fence that America tries to sell in every movie with a happy ending.

But I fear that you got stuck on us, on me.

And while I am flattered if that is the case (and not bitter if it isn’t, God I’m so happy for you if I’m wrong, dearest), then I want you to know it’s okay to move on, it’s okay to live.

God, this is one depressing sappy mess.

But we’re both kind of sappy depressing messes, aren’t we? You brought me flowers to the hospital today, you remembered my favorites are Virginian Spiderworts. Did you know they mean ‘momentary happiness’?

Momentary happiness, like I said: depressingly sappy.

I don’t know if I told you the meaning, but it is an interesting bouquet to bring to a hospital bed of someone terminally ill, you know? And I love you for it. Never change, Thomas, never change. Stay my sweet little dork, I beg you. If someone tries to change you, tell em no or I will come beat them up for you.

I will forever protect you, I promise.

I think this is good and if it isn’t you won’t really get to leave a review, so I’ll be safe either way. So, this is it, this is goodbye, for now at least. I still have the luxury of giving you a hug when you wake up and I’m gonna keep doing that till the end.

Stay strong, I love you,

Martha, your beloved wife”

In the end they were both crying and Alex was impressed with himself that he had managed to make it to the end. The email gave him more questions about Thomas, but he it wasn’t really the time to ask about his late wife’s protectiveness.

He cleared his throat after a moment and said: “Martha was amazing.”

That got him a surprised chuckle as Thomas’s breathing started to become more regular. He swallowed and agreed: “God, she was.”

“Tell me more about her,” Alex requested. He remembered how nice it had been to tell Thomas about John and he found himself curious about the woman that had enchanted Thomas.

“She was the most intelligent woman I’ve ever met, and I know Angelica,” Thomas started, Alex let out a small amused huff, “Martha- Martha was the kind of person you had to look at, you know? When she walked into a room, it got brighter.”

Thomas perked up considerably when talking about Martha. He was still slightly curled into himself on the kitchen chair, but he was at least making eye contact with Alex.

“I used to be overly anxious – still am, but I’m managing – and she was always there for me when I needed it. She was a spitfire, she talked when I couldn’t and stood up for me,” Thomas confessed, “I try to embody her when I need to make a presentation.”

Alex was taken aback by it: “I didn’t know you got anxious.”

“It’s better when arguing with you, I have to think too hard on how to counter you to think about stressing,” Thomas tossed out casually, immediately hoping that wasn’t too revealing, he’d already compared the man with Martha once today.

But Alex just smiled happily, though it seemed unconscious to Thomas’s eye.

“Martha never argued with me like you do, though,” Thomas mused trying to save himself, “She would just roll her eyes at me whenever I did something she found unnecessary.”

“Like what?” Alex raised a brow with amusement.

There was probably too much glee in the man’s eyes for the question to be innocent, but Thomas didn’t care: “Well there was one time a lady stopped me on the street and she asked if I did a lot of desk work, which I did, so I said yes. Then she asked me if it made my back hurt-”

“Naturally also yes,” Alex nodded.

“Indeed, so then she asked me if she could touch me and at this point I’m scared, but too far in to say no,” Thomas tells him, “So she just put her hand on my back and starts praying.”

“She blessed you?” Alex sounded delighted and disbelieving.

“Yes and I did not want to be there. So, I was sending Martha ‘come help me, please’-looks, but she just shook her head and watched me. I think she would have stepped in, if she didn’t think it hilarious,” Thomas rolled his eyes fondly, “She always asked me if I felt blessed whenever we visited a church afterwards.”

“That is hilarious,” Alex giggled at the story and Thomas felt a strange sort of pride that he made Alex giggle like that. He’d heard the other laugh before, but never giggle. It was a light sound that eased some of the pain in Thomas’s chest.

He smiled at Alex and admitted: “Maybe in hindsight it was.”

There was a natural pause in their conversation, until Alex asked: “How are you feeling?”

Thomas thought about it for a moment. The ache he’d felt in his chest when he had seen the email that morning had dulled. It was still sharper than on most days, but it didn’t feel as overwhelming and never ending as it had done.

“Better,” he answered honestly.

“That’s good to hear,” Alex said, “Do you want to go back to the couch and watch a movie? This time I’ll even let you pick.”

“Sure,” Thomas agreed easily.

“Great, do you have popcorn or something?” Alex asked, already moving around in his kitchen to check the cabinets, not even waiting for an answer.

“Upper left,” Thomas said after a while of watching Alex struggle to find it.

Alex looked up to the shelf, then back at Thomas, before he huffed: “This is just discrimination against short people.”

Thomas laughed, before getting up to grab the popcorn.

They stayed on the couch for the rest of the day, Thomas leaning into Alex’s side, neither of them caring.

For dinner Thomas made Mac-’N-Cheese and they ate while having a passionate discussion about whether the characters in the horror movie they’d watched had made the right decisions.

When Alex said he was going home, Thomas felt kind of sad about it.

“Goodbye, Alex. I- Thank you. For coming. You didn’t have to do that, but it was nice, so thanks,” he said awkwardly.

“Hey, anytime,” Alex smiled, “Besides, it was the least I could after what you did for me and-” he hesitated, “and you’re actually not that bad of a company now I know you better, so-” he shrugged, “did it with pleasure.”

Thomas smiled, it was genuine and crinkled his eyes in the way Martha had adored. He didn’t know Alex melted at the sight too.

“You’re not that bad either, Alex,” he said softly.

“Well, I see you at work,” Alex cleared his throat and stepped away then he looked back and added, “Don’t come in if you’re feeling shitty tomorrow, okay.”

“I won’t,” and Thomas found it wasn’t a lie.

Again, this is not a guide on how to deal with grief, for the love of god don’t take advise from fics. I have tried my best to make it not shit and somewhat accurate, but I can promise nothing.

I debated posting the letter separate of the fic, but it’s important to the fic and the chapter title, so I kept it like this even if it’s a bit clunky. I only decided here to make the flowers important and I thought it very descriptive of their realtions, since both knew it would end sooner than later, no matter how happy they got to be during their time together.

Also, the blessing thing actually happened to me, slightly different, but it happened. And no, I do not feel blessed and yes it was awkward and none of my friends came to my rescue.

#RR writing #tw: grief #Hamilton #Hamilton AU #alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #george washington #Martha Wayles Jefferson mentioned #Jamilton #'Till Death Do Us Part #'Till Death Do Us Part Part 3 #'Till Death Do Us Part AU

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lesbian-deadpool · 4 years

Text

Roses In A Storm

Part One of Three: We’re Not Done Yet

Prelude | Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 2,777

Warnings: Sadness, grief, blood, violence, excess drinking, anger, murder, talks of weed use, I think that may be it.

Request: By so many but mainly @missmonsters2. Happy??

Summary: Unhinged and grieving. You get a very special guest.

A/N: This is the ending to “Soulmates”.

Ko-Fi

(Not my GIF)

***

To say you became unhinged after Tony's funeral, was an understatement.

Your entire being crumbled. And you became a shell of the person you used to be.

You cared about nothing and no one. Not even yourself.

You had told Fury he could, respectfully, shove your job up where the sun doesn't shine. And stormed out of his office, with him calling after you.

And that wizard dude.

What was his name?

Stanly?

Sherlock?

Samantha?

Fucking, Benadryl Copypaper?

You didn't know, you couldn't remember?

But that wasn't the point. What was the point, however, was how much Socriteis-Harry Potter bothered you- Stephen Strange!- That was wand-boys name!

Anyway!

He had been bugging the shit outa you ever since you left the lake house.

You could kill him.

Texts, emails, letters, calls, fucking popping out of nowhere. With all this "we're not done yet" bullshit. Yada, yada, yada. To be completely honest, you didn't listen to a single word he ever said, so you wouldn't know.

Luckily, he didn't randomly pop out from one of his orange portals, as much as the other things. So, you didn't have to actively try to dodge, escape, and punch him the fuck out evade him all that much.

But you could still fucking kill him.

Currently, you were stood, overlooking The Hudson River, staring at The Statue Of Liberty. The cold had just started to settle in, Autumn slowly turning into winter, frost visibly coating the ground.

Natasha loved this time of year.

It wasn't too hot that she would feel like she was melting, and it wasn't too cold for her to have to bundle up too much to step out. It was just perfect. She always liked it on the chilly side.

You remember once a few years ago before you had even met Penny and started this whole heart-breaking spiral. Natasha had dragged you out of the tower, her hand in yours as she literally dragged you. And towards the coffee shop she had recently found in the Soho area, what she was doing there in the first place, you didn't ask, out of fear of being threatened. Because you knew Natasha would never, actually, hurt you.

It was a fantastic day out.

One of the best times of your life.

The day had started off early, at around ten AM at that coffee shop, which you had to admit, was amazing. Followed by a store Natasha wanted to check out for Clints Christmas present. Then you had lunch, followed by more shopping.

You were pretty sure this was all one big day for Natasha to find out what gift to get you. But, none the less, you spent the entire day together. Even ending the day by staying over at Natasha's apartment, after walking her home. Because you were a gentleman like that. And also, there were way too many bags for her to carry.

Who knew that the Black Widow could shop like it was a sport?

At the end of the day, you came to the conclusion that she would win gold in the Olympics for it if she could. She could win gold in the Olympics on most of the sports if we're being truly honest.

It was a date.

Not your first one, by far.

But it was a date.

You realised that now.

Way too late.

That wasn't just Natasha's way of finding out what to get you for Christmas. She wanted to take you out on a date.

And you were way too fucking clueless to realise that.

You just wish you could make up for that now.

You wished you could hold her in your arms again.

The way you were always supposed too.

Not as friends. But as lovers.

But now, you had to live without her. So you did what you always did to get through the day.

You drank.

You found the closes bar that was open at the early hours of the morning, sat down on one of the dingy stools, and drank.

Little did you know, that sitting at that bar, would change your life forever.

***

The sound of glass smashing behind you caused your eyes to snap wide open, startled at the sudden noise. But you didn't care enough to turn around and check the commotion out, from your place leaning on the bar, with your glass of whisky pressed to your temple.

"This is bullshit!" Came a gruff voice.

"Hey," that same voice said. It's owner shoving against your shoulder harshly, "Avenger."

"That's not my job anymore," you replied coldly, to the scruffy man, with a long dirty blonde beard.

You had seen him around this bar, that you had quickly made your regular, but had never caught his name.

"No, but you were one," he spat out drunkenly.

"Well done," your tone was sarcastically chipper, "Would you like a sticker for being such a big, smart boy?" The sickly sweet smile that was on your face fell, as you turned back to take a hearty swig of your drink.

"You motherfucker."

Just as he was about to shove you off of your stool, the bartender spoke up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Do you really want to go up against an ex-Avenger?"

"Shut up, Weasel!"

"Yeah," you told the bartender, smirking as you did, "He's a big boy, remember. He can make his own mistakes."

"'Mistake'?!" the bearded man barked out, "Ha! No. This is going to be the best thing I've ever done."

"I think you've drank too much there, dirtier Hagrid."

He slammed his fist down onto the bar, furious at your calm state.

"You see that up there?" He pointed up to the long chalkboard above the bar. "That's the Dead Pool, and you're the highest one to win-"

Without even sparing the board a glance you quipped, "Yes. I am able to read."

You didn't even flinch when the man flicked out a switchblade right by your cheek, just continued to drink your burning liquor.

"I want that money. And I'm gonna get it. But first, I'm gonna cut out your tongue so you can't say any more smart-ass remarks."

"Wow. 'remarks'. That the smartest word you have in your vocabulary?"

A laugh sounded from behind you. One, predictably, from your new-found friend, Wade. Just as the man to your lefts anger bubbled up, flowing from the brim.

"Oh, you motherfuck-"

He brought his blade back, intending to stab you in the back, as he spoke. That is before your almost empty glass smashed into the side of his face, glass flying everywhere, especially into his face and your palm. The man yelled out in pain. And before he could retaliate by trying to stab you again, you quickly disarmed him, fracturing his arm as you did so. Then plunging the switchblade into his right thigh, making him scream out in pain. Ad finally, you delivered a crushing blow to his chest, by kicking him down to the floor, along with a couple of barstools, breaking a few of his ribs in the process.

Most of the people in the -once nunnery- bar, sounded out their happiness at witnessing a fight, no matter how outmatched the people were to each other. While the man groaned on the floor, trying his hardest to stand up, while a few of his buddies helped him up.

"Told you so," Weasel said offhandedly, his face sporting a cringe.

"You sonofabitch!" he spat out -like, literally spat... gross-, as he tried his hardest to keep his tears at bay.

"You- You stabbed me," he stuttered, pointing at you.

"That's right, Einstein. I did."

"You'll pay for that. You'll fucking pay!" He hoppled closer to you so that you were now face to face. Leaving his buddies behind.

"I can't wait." You smiled.

"There's no fucking wonder the bitch you drank overthrew herself off of a fucking cliff." Your smile dropped. "Anything to get away from you. To never have to see your face again."

Bad idea.

Your sight turned into an intense hue of red, so much so that the man's beard turned ginger.

Rage boiled up within you. The only other time you had felt this angry was when you found out that Natasha was gone, and she was never coming back, and that it was all that purple Titan's fault.

You hit him.

Of course, you fucking hit him.

With all your might.

No one said that kind of shit about Natasha. And especially not to your face.

But you weren't fighting a titan this time.

You were fighting a drunken burly man.

A drunk burly man who could take a fucking punch.

But you chalked that up to his adrenaline and how intoxicated he was.

He was sure to feel it all in the morning.

He stumbled from your punch. The knife, still in his leg, tearing against his flesh, causing more blood to spill from the wound.

And for Weasel's skin to tingle green, when he saw it.

The bearded man's friends rushed up to him, as yours did the same to you, holding you back from the man. As you roared at him.

"You're one stupid motherfucker, you know that?! It's like you've got a fucking death wish!"

He spat blood at you while laughing, "You really think she loved you! Wouldn't she still be here if she did?!"

You exhaled hotly. Fury pouring from your every pore.

The familiar cold metal filled your hand as you pulled the trigger of your concealed gun, shooting the man between the eyes.

Okay... so, maybe he wouldn't feel everything in in the morning...

His friends were just as idiotic as he was. Them all moving to pull out their own guns, but you made quick work of them.

Two more head shots. And one shot to the neck.

Even drunk, your marksmanship was impeccable.

"Well..." Wade said slowly, as the whole bar grew silent. Patting you on your back, he continued, "You just won yourself ten grand."

"Awesome," you muttered, "I'm buying everyone their drinks for the rest of the day!"

That got the bar cheering again.

"What the fuck, Y/L/N?!"

You turned around at the new voice. Coming face to face with Nick Fury, who looked beyond angry.

"Nick!" you cheered, "Take a seat, have a drink.- I'm paying!"

"Yes. I heard."

The man watched you for a few moments, noting how intoxicating you were. But was still able to see the coldness behind your eyes, that wasn't there before.

But a lot of things had changed since then.

Fury sighed.

"We need to talk."

***

"Hey, Weasel! Can I get another drink over here, please?!" you called over to your friend and bartender, who nodded at you.

You sat at a small table in the back of the bar, with Fury to your right, and Wade to your left.

The bodies of the four men you had shot down, already cleared away, and the drinks you had promised the patrons, poured.

"You still shot down four men in cold blood, Y/L/N," Fury continued on with his rant, that had been going on since you first sat down with him, not even fifteen minutes ago. You rolled your eyes, just as Weasel cam over, placing a full bottle of whisky down in front of you.

"If it makes you feel any better," the bartender began, facing Fury, "Those guys were plotting to kidnap some kids for ransom."

Fury just starred at the fidgeting man, with a blank eye. No emotion showed on his hard face, which only made Weasel more anxious.

"Right. I'll just go then."

"It makes him feel better, Weasel!" you called to the retreating man.

Even after months of not seeing the man, you could still read his, almost always, blank face, like an open book. It was a skill you wore proudly like a badge of honour. You doubted if your skill would ever fade.

Fury 'humphed' at you. Knowing full well that you were right, as he watched you take a swig of whisky straight from the bottle.

"You've changed, Y/N."

"No shit," you said harshly, "Wouldn't you?"

Fury sighed, for the umpteenth time since you've been talking to him.

"Listen Y/L/N-"

"Sorry to interrupt," Weasel said, "Making you smile into your bottle of alcohol, "But not really- What happened yo your eye?"

"He won't tell you, trust me. I've been asking him about it for years."

Wade hummed, squinting his eyes at the scars coming from behind Fury's eye patch, from his half rolled up mask, while taking a sip from his pina colada.

"My eye is not the focus, right now," Fury barked.

"Oh, but can it be?"

"Yeah, I beg to differ," Wade carried on, waving his finger at the fore talked about eye, "It looks like you got scratched by an itty-bitty kitty-cat."

"Bold words from the man whose lips look like a gaping asshole," Fury fired back, causing you to laugh so hard that tears started seeping from your eyes.

You wiped at your eyes as you regained as much of your composure as possible at that moment. Muttering to yourself, "I'm so drunk."

"Okay, listen. I came here for a reason- Don't." Fury pointed at both you and Wade, glaring at you in warning as to not interrupt him, with your remarks, or just in a general. "Strange has been trying to contact you, Isn't that right, Y/L/N?"

"Yeah. He wants me to work for him, go back to work for you, or something. I don't know, I didn't listen to him. He can go fuck himself."

"Strange?" Wade asked

"Yeah." You nod. "The portal guy I told you about."

"Oh. Shitty Harry Potter?!"

"That's the bitch!"

"Okay, that's enough!" Fury yelled, slamming his hands down onto the table, causing the drinks upon it to shake.

"Okay, damn. What's up you dating him, or something?" you asked.

"No, I'm not dating him," Fury growled.

"It's okay if you're gay." You nodded at Wade's words. "We don't care. We're both gay as fuck."

"I'm not!" Fury stopped himself from fishing his sentence, taking a breath and then exhaling it before he started speaking again. "I'm not dating Strange. But you do need to talk to him."

"Yeah, not gonna happen."

"Just hear him out."

"There's no reason for me too! What? He's gonna ask me to help him out with some hero bullshit. Well, I don't do that anymore."

"Yeah, I've noticed with all of the vigilante work you've been doing with your new friend here." Fury nodded towards Wade, who placed a hand over his heart.

"Oh, you've heard of my work. You flatter me."

"I'm not a vigilante I'm a hitman," you spoke at the same time.

"You're a what?"

"A hitman. If I'm gonna do this shit, might as well get paid for it." You shrugged.

"Or you could not just do it."

You shrugged once again. "It's what I'm good at. And it's the only thing that seems to distract me from this unbearable pain- Well. That and drinking. Also, weed. So much weed."

Fury put his head in his hands, shaking it against his palms, because of your words.

"Good job, Y/N. You broke him!"

"Stop it, both of you," Fury muttered.

"I know, it's so easy. It's a skill really."

"Stop," Fury ordered.

"What's up, Nick?" you asked, "Someone bugging you? Need me to kill ew? I'll give you a friend's and family discount."

"Just listen to strange!"

"Okay."

"Wait. Really?" Fury asked.

"For the right amount."

You smirked as Fury groaned.

"I'm not paying you to listen to Strange."

"Then I guess I ain't listening to him then."

"He wants to talk about Natasha!" he yelled.

Slowly pulling the whisky bottle from your lips, you placed it back on the table.

"What about Natasha?" you asked blankly.

Fury sighed again, thankful that you were finally listening to him. "Listen to what he has to say."

"What does he have to say?"

"It's better coming from him. I don't know everything and I know you'll have a lot of questions. Most of them stupid."

Gritting your teeth, you exhaled deeply. "Fine... I'll talk to him."

"Thank, God."

"You gonna set up a meeting for us?"

"No need." Fury smiled."What do you-?" Suddenly you screamed, plummeting down the portal that just materialised on the seat of your chair.

"Now we're playing with portals!" Wade joked.

Fury shook his head, picking up his drink. "I hate you."

"So... what is the story with your eye?"

"Go fuck yourself, Wilson."

"Well, if you insist."

***

Permanent Tag List:

@imnotasuperhero, @veteranwerewolf95, @natasha-danvers, @marvelfansince08love

#original work #original fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #marvel #MCU

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bard-llama · 3 years

Text

Second Chances (Time Travel AU)

Okay, I’ve slept about 4 hours, so hopefully this is coherent, but I created a new fic universe yesterday and I’m a little obsessed.

This was inspired by @fantom-flower‘s endeavor to engage, specifically the part where Iorveth sleeps with twink!Roche and talks about taking Roche with him when he leaves. I wanted to figure out how he really COULD bring Roche with him and, because I’m me, I created a whole complex universe to do it lmao

(under a cut, ‘cause it’s long)

So, the premise is that Iorveth is killed by Roche around the time of Witcher 2 (i.e. 1270s), and he is PISSED about it, but also kinda resigned, ‘cause he’s always known Roche would be his death. But something about the death also REALLY makes Iorveth pissed at Foltest and the way that Roche is so devoted to such a shit man. But he’s dying, so what can he do?

Except, instead of things coming to an end, he wakes up somewhere with a genial-looking (presumed) human in front of him who offers him a second chance. Gaunter offers Iorveth the options to go back in time to any point in his life and start over. Iorveth doesn’t wholly believe this is happening, but hey, wtf, why not take it seriously? He knows he should go back to before humans arrive and maybe find a way to keep elves from ever falling from power. But when he thinks back on his own life during that time, all he really remembers is the pain and loneliness he felt - the result of a family who didn’t want him. He tried to fill the pain with the adoration of audiences as he performed flamboyantly, but it all feels superficial in his memory and he doesn’t want to go back to then.

So when he thinks about when else he could go, he thinks of the way Roche killed him, of the way he resented that an incredible opponent like Roche was such a tool in the hands of a man like Foltest. So then he has an idea: what if he steals Roche before Foltest turns him into that man?

Gaunter seals the deal with the promise of payment being “something you don’t have, but will once more”, which Iorveth is like wtf does that mean? But like, whatever, it’s a good deal.

Iorveth wakes up and thinks he’s had a wild fucking dream - until he realizes that he has both of his eyes again. As he freaks out over that, he comes to realize that he has woken up in a time before the Scoia’tael and before the Vrihedd Brigade. Before the Nilfgaardian wars in general, actually. He has woken up 23 years in the past, in 1247, in a world where the elves that haven’t assimilated into human societies are refugees living in the Blue Mountains. Isengrim runs a sort of proto-Scoia’tael movement that Iorveth is a young officer in. At this point in his life, he’s been fighting humans for about 200 years (the sacking of Loc Muinne triggered his enlistment in Aelirenn’s uprising in the 1060s). He and Isengrim aren’t actually friends yet - Isengrim barely knows who this nobody kid is. But when Iorveth comes to him and proposes that, since they can’t hide in the mountains forever, why don’t they bring the fight to humanity? Whether that looks like an actual fight or a diplomatic negotiation, Iorveth doesn’t actually care, but Isengrim consults with civilian leaders like Filavandrel and Enid an Gleanna/Francesca Findabair and they decide it’s worth it to make diplomatic overtures. And since Iorveth is really insistent that he needs to go to Temeria (in fairness, he was born in the forests that I’m calling the Gleanne forests that his Scoia’tael are later based in), they start there. Maybe King Medell is a little more sympathetic to elves than the other northern kings or maybe they’re just like “wtf gotta start somewhere”, but either way, Isengrim brings a small unit to Vizima.

While Isengrim and Toruviel negotiate (or try to?) with King Medell, Iorveth goes looking for Roche. He doesn’t know where to look at first, but figures that hanging around the palace hoping to find Roche with Prince Foltest would be a bad idea, so instead, he searches the city. He vaguelly recalls intel that Roche in the future often visits a brothel in the shit part of town, so he starts there. He goes from brothel to brothel, hanging out in the taverny area on the first floor and watching the Johns. At first, he’s unsuccessful and starting to get frustrated, but then he happens to come down the list to the Clarabelle brothel. He’s watching the Johns as he sips an ale, searching for Roche - only to have one of the workers come up and start flirting with him. I think maybe it takes him a little bit to recognize Roche - after all, he’s only known the man as a 43yo soldier and the twink before him is very much NOT that. (is it still a twink when they’re hairy? ‘cause my Roche def has body hair). But when Roche propositions him, he decides hey, why not? After all, if he wants to convert Roche to his side, he’s going to need to spend time with him. And if that time happens to involve paying for sex? Well, that was just a side bonus. It’s not as if any part of him has wondered what Roche would be like in bed before. Not at all.

So while the elven unit is hanging around Vizima and while Iorveth slowly gets to know this Roche (who might not have even chosen the name Roche yet. Haven’t decided), Iorveth deals with the consequences of having the memory of being an old warrior with one eye while his actual body is very much not that. There are some weird things people notice - he shoots with his left hand now, closing his right eye to aim. He knows moves that they’ve never seen before. But his body doesn’t know how to do those moves and he has to retrain and figure out how to fight as he is now. His memories are both a help and a hindrance and he trains with Isengrim and Toruviel and a few OCs and pooossibly Filavandrel is there too, but as a diplomat, not as a fighter.

I don’t quite know how the negotiations with King Medell go or exactly what the journey of elves claiming equality looks like, but ultimately, Iorveth manages to convert Roche to his side (and no, he hasn’t fallen in love along the way. Not at all) and this actually changes quite a number of things, especially combined with all the other changes from the past Iorveth remembers. Elves are more successful in gaining equal rights throughout the north due to these changes and Iorveth and Roche get together properly and maybe go back to the Blue Mountains with the other elves (who uh... very much question Iorveth going for a fucking human whore who also happens to be a “playmate” of the prince and princess of Temeria). All seems hunky dory and Iorveth really thinks that he’s done it - he’s made his second chance count and the world is better than his old one was. And he still has both eyes and is still beautiful and maybe even finds more time to play music now.

So then, of course, payment time comes due. Because the Witcher world is pain, Gaunter comes to collect - and Iorveth loses his eye once more. This, of course, leads to a lot of mixed feelings and grief from Iorveth, who now thinks that he’s ruined again, disfigured and ugly and in this world, he doesn’t even have the saving grace of being a Scoia’tael leader. He thinks that no one can love him now and goes into a serious depression spiral that does not help his recovery At All.

Fortunately, Roche is in love with him and he’s built a family of elves around him and they aren’t the Scoia’tael he’d had before, but they’re still family, his new family, and it takes time, but Iorveth does eventually recover and come to see his own worth.

Open questions I still need to figure out:

Does Isengrim have his scar already? Or did that come later?

How does Iorveth manage to convince Isengrim to go to Temeria?

Does Iorveth tell anyone the truth about his second chance?

What makes King Medell decide to actually negotiate with elves? Considering his son is fanatically anti-elf, I feel like maybe someone else in his life needs to be pro-elf and helps convince him to give it a try. Possibly his wife Sancia of Sodden and/or his daughter Adda of Temeria (not to be confused with Adda the White, her daughter).

Should Eliza (Roche’s mama) run the Clarabelle already? They’ve been in Vizima for about 10ish years, so I could go either way. If she’s not running it, who is the madame?

What is Foltest and Roche’s relationship? They’re definitely not as close as they are later in life. For one thing, Roche I think has maybe either not been through military training or has only just started. This is because right now, he’s basically a glorified “playmate”/companion for Foltest and Adda. It’s not until Foltest becomes King that he becomes more than that - but that won’t happen in this world.

Should I include Brigida? In my hc, Roche meets Foltest/comes into royal service by accident when he’s about 15. He and Brigida go on a date to a royal parade - notable because the royals are ACTUALLY coming through the shit part of town. Roche happens to notice an assassin and tackles them, thereby saving Foltest and Adda’s life. King Medell decides this peasant has potential, so he makes Roche into his children’s playmate.

I’m really excited for this AU! I’ve skipped ahead and started writing Iorveth waking up in the past, so I still need to go back and write his death and deal with Gaunter, but I’ll get there. This is gonna be a BIG fic, I think, so I’ll have time lol

That said, how tf did I get here from “I want a world where Iorveth DOES take the pretty whore he slept with with him when he leaves”???

#rorveth #iorveth x roche #time travel #second chances #the witcher #fic planning

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the-hopeless-haze · 4 years

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Someone Whose Feelings You Spare (Being Alive Chapter 8)

A/N: Two things! I suggest listening to “Any Man of Mine” by Shania Twain before you read this because it will make a lot more sense - yes it’s cheesy but go with it lol. Second - forgive me for any courtroom inaccuracies! I love Rita though and I gotta give her some love in this series (even if she’s lowkey a bitch to the reader haha)!

Word Count: 3.5k

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

AO3 Link

The defense had gotten word. And it was your fault. Maybe it’s just how it goes, a domino effect: one person finds out and then another person finds out and then another... It wasn’t all the defense attorneys in Manhattan at once, thank God, but it was the one and only Rita Calhoun, and you were set to testify tomorrow. You’re in his office like a bat out of hell the second you get her message, complete with a picture of the two of you closer than what was appropriate outside the courthouse, most likely taken at an inopportune moment from Rita’s cellphone when you kissed him despite his half-hearted protests. Rafael wonders how much ibuprofen he can take before his liver starts sending him death threats as he stares at it, takes a deep breath, and then looks up at you.

“Well. This isn’t great.”

“Not great? This is terrible, Rafael. And it’s my fault. Now what’s going to happen?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs, leaning back in his chair.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why don’t you seem as concerned about this as I am?”

“I’m concerned. Believe me, I’m concerned. But this was bound to happen, (y/n). Both of us knew that.”

“But I mean... if it comes between our careers and our relationship...” you say, anxiety bleeding into your tone as you fiddle with your watch. “What are we going to do? There’s no outcome where it’s fair if it comes to that.”

See why it’s easier to be alone? This would’ve never happened if you just let him be. But he swallows that down with two pills and a swig of coffee and doesn’t verbalize it.

“It’s not going to come to that,” Rafael says, even though he doesn’t quite believe it himself. Your worries weren’t completely unfounded, especially since he had no idea how Rita was going to play it in court. It could very well come to that. But you didn’t need to hear it from his mouth.

“What are you going to do, then?” you ask; your hands on your hips.

“I believe it’s what ‘we’ are going to do, cariño, since we’re both in this mess, together. Right?”

You shoot him a withering look before you start pacing the room. “You’re unbelievable. Why are you not stressed about this? You’ll get strung out about a bad headline from some no-name journalist or a slight glitch in a case but this? You’re making jokes? Do you not care if we have to end it? Is that it?”

“No, (y/n). Sit down. Of course I care, but I’m not a miracle worker or a mind reader.”

“So then call Rita! See if you can work something out with her.”

“Can you trust me?”

“I don’t know. Can I?"

“Jesus. Have a little faith in me, will you, mujer?”

You roll your eyes but you finally stop pacing and sit across from him. “What’s your plan, then?”

“I’m not calling Rita. No, hear me out,” he says, glaring at your exasperated facial expression. “If I go running to her with my tail between my legs, then that just proves there’s something going on, and while that picture is incriminating... it’s not exactly proof.”

“So what? You want me to commit perjury? Have every case I ever testified in be thrown out because I’m not only in a relationship with the attorney who prosecuted them, but because I’m a liar to boot?”

“Can you calm down and just listen to me? Hmm? Do you think you can do that?” Rafael says, trying not to let his irritation show. You are pissing him off a little, though. Hysterics aren’t going to solve anything, and surely you know that.

“Fine. But you’re not saying anything I like so far.”

Rafael sighs and rubs his face with hands. “Maybe because you haven’t exactly let me speak, cariño. Now, I’ve seen this situation happen before, albeit not exactly like this. One of the other district attorneys in Brooklyn was married to a doctor who testified in a lot of her cases. Not exactly the most ethical arrangement in the world, either, but it slid. Some defense attorneys tried to bring it up and discredit him, but both of them had a good reputation and nothing much ever came from that.”

"This is a lot different, though, Rafael."

He shrugs. "In a way. It'd be worse if you were a higher rank, but you've only been on the squad for a year and you're not looking for promotions, right?"

"Even if I was, I wouldn't get one any time soon. But if this gets out, though, your political career—“

Rafael chuckles. "What political career? That's been a lost cause ever since I charged Alex. He made sure of that."

"I just feel so bad, though, honey. You're always telling me to stop in case someone sees—“

"Don't. We're going to figure this out, okay?" he says, looking at you intently. "Okay?"

"Okay," you say, exhaling maybe for the first time since you stepped into his office. "I really am sorry, though. God, I feel so stupid."

"Well, don't. You're not. Like I said, this was bound to happen. Maybe it's better if we just get it over with," Rafael shrugs, then reaches for your hand across his desk. "We'll figure it out.”

But wouldn't it be so much easier if you didn't?

——--

Carisi is outside the courthouse with you, a comforting arm around your shoulder. Rafael bites back a comment. You don’t need any grief today.

“Hey, Barba,” Carisi says. “You doing okay?”

“I’m not the one going up on the stand,” he says, feeling a sense of pride when you leave Carisi’s arms for his own, even if that's not the most appropriate place for you to be right now.

“This is insane,” Carisi says, shaking his head. “I can't believe Calhoun's going to bring this up. I mean, it's not like you give us any breaks because you're with her; if anything you're harder on us—“

"Shush," Rafael snaps, shooting him a dirty look. "We don't know if that's what she's aiming for, although I do suppose we have a good idea. She wants to confuse the jury, muddy the waters. You want to be a lawyer? Get used to playing dirty. You'll do it, too. Are you doing okay?” he asks, turning to you.

“Been better. We have backup plans for our backup plans, depending on the route she goes with. Just gotta get through it and not fuck up."

"Hey, that's the spirit," Carisi says, grinning as he squeezes your shoulder. The three of you walk up the steps and try to settle into your respective seats in the courtroom. But you never make it on the witness stand, because Rita calls to approach before you can be sworn in. Rafael is thankful for little blessings. Much better that this came up in the judge's chambers than in open court.

"Your Honor, I don't think that the next witness should be called given her personal relationship with the prosecutor of this case,” Rita says. "I have photos--"

"No need. She's not lying," Rafael interjects, glaring at her.

"You're welcome for the heads-up, by the way," she says, smirking at him. "But again, given the fact that Mr. Barba is dating the witness... how can he be expected to be impartial, especially since she is going to accuse my client of attempting to assault her while she was undercover?"

"Don't you think this should have come up earlier, Mr. Barba?" the judge asks, crossing her arms. "Now, I'll allow this because I know she worked on this case - but tread lightly. I don't want to have to call a mistrial."

"Won't be necessary, Your Honor," he replies, leaving the bench and heading back to his seat. You're sworn in, and he runs through the questions he'd already asked you a million times - where were you, how did you meet the defendant, what the defendant did to you, how you and the squad tied him to the rest of the victims. You do a phenomenal job, and Rita can only object once successfully.

But when Rita's allowed to cross... she doesn't hold back.

"So, Detective... would you like to elaborate on your relationship with the prosecutor of this case?"

"Objection? Relevance?" Rafael asks.

"I'll make my point clear."

"I'll allow it, but let's not make this a showcase, Ms. Calhoun?" the judge says, nodding to you.

"We're dating," you say, keeping your voice level.

"Right... and let's say something happened to you. Like any significant other, he'd be upset, correct? Was he there the night in question? Did he see this happen to you?"

"He wasn't at the club, no, but he did come into the precinct later on in the night."

"Right. So he saw you after the incident. Don't you think, maybe, tensions were high, you had just gone undercover... and the two of you read into this more than you should have?"

"Did the whole precinct? Because it was my sergeant who decided to bring him in for questioning before Mr. Barba even looked at this case," you say matter-of-factly.

"Let me rephrase. Did he talk to you or my client first?"

"He spoke with me first."

"So, before he even meets my client, he talks to you, and he has that in the back of his mind the entire time. Now, anyone would want to take the side of their significant other, and you thought that you were luring out a potential rapist. Of course, he's going to take your word for it: he loves you, doesn't he? So, from the beginning of the case, his emotions already ruled over his decisions."

"Objection. Speculation," Rafael states as he stands up. Fucking Rita, using the 'L' word before he'd even thought about telling you that.

"Why don't you tell us, then, Mr. Barba?" Rita says coolly.

"Enough, you two," the judge sighs heavily. "Continue, Ms. Calhoun, but get to the point."

"I think I'm all set. No further questions."

"I'm calling for a short recess after that lovely display," the judge declares, rolling her eyes. "Court will return in 30 minutes."

You're staring at Rafael as you step down from the stand, and you make your way over to him. "How do you think that went?"

"It went. We'll see," he murmurs, shrugging. "You did a great job, cariño.”

"So did she. I mean, there’s reasonable doubt—“

But you’re cut off from that thought because Rita’s walking over, a smirk playing on her lips. “This is cute, hm?”

“What do you want, Rita?” Rafael asks, sighing exasperatedly. “It didn’t work out so well for you. She still got to testify.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts. How long has it been for you two, though?"

“It’s been a while.”

“It’s not a good look. You work far too closely with SVU to be sleeping with one of their detectives. Surely you should know that?”

“I’m standing right here, Rita,” you mutter through gritted teeth.

“Well, the adults are talking.”

About a million emotions flash through your eyes, and Rafael just hopes to God you don’t start crying because that will only make it worse, and he knows Rita didn’t mean it to be bitchy. Her tone was light enough to be joking, and she probably meant it more along the lines of ‘the lawyers are speaking’, but he knows you wouldn’t take it that way. Thankfully, though, you manage to bite back your tears and nod.

“Well, then, I’ll let them talk,” you snap and brush past Rita out of the courtroom.

“(Y/n), don’t—“ Rafael starts but you don’t look back, and he sighs, glaring at Rita. “Was that necessary?”

“She’s emotional, hm?” Rita says as he starts to put his things into his briefcase. “Though I find most SVU detectives to be. At least she's pretty.”

Rafael snickers. “Thanks for your approval, but I didn't need it."

"Apparently you don't think you need anyone's approval. Don't you think this is an iffy situation at best? How long were you going to try and get away with it? Really, I think you should be thanking me for forcing it to come to light. McCoy must not be happy."

"Mm, yes. Thank you for harassing my girlfriend on the stand, Rita," he says with a grimace as he closes his briefcase. "I don't bring up your personal life in this courtroom and believe me, if I wanted to, I could find something. I expect you to show me the same courtesy from now on."

"Fine. We can play nice,” she says, following him out of the room. “But this is the last time her testimony is going to be admissible when I'm in this courtroom. I don’t trust either of you to be objective, and neither should any judge. You got lucky today.”

"I rarely ever call her for this reason, Rita.”

“Good. Glad we’re on the same page. Just know, if I ever find any evidence that you were anything less than impartial—“

“You’ll make sure the jury hears about it. I get it.”

“Good. What are you going to do when you get married? I mean, you can’t expect for both of you to keep your jobs.”

“Who the hell said anything about marriage?” Rafael asks, trying not to let his tone become too defensive.

“I don’t know. Isn’t that the logical progression of things? You two seem pretty close."

In open court, she’d want to do everything to make it seem like he had the tightest bond imaginable with you. But now, there was no reason to keep harping on this point, and it makes him wonder and worry about how deep that soft spot for you actually went. "I know you'd love to see me transfer out of this district, but it's not happening," he snickers. "I'll see you in 20."

"Oh, hey, Barba. Warning: she's pissed," Carisi informs him as he walks up to the two of you.

"I'm not pissed. Asshole," you protest, jabbing Carisi playfully in the side, to which he holds his stomach like you really injured him. "Although that was uncalled for on her part. And it would've been nice if you defended me..."

"You walked away before I even had a chance to - which I did after you left, by the way."

"Right. So what happens now?"

"Come with me,” he says, ushering you out of the hallway with an arm around your shoulder. He finds an alcove in the stairs, somewhere he’d hide and do his deliberation on closing statements right before it was showtime.

“Not a good look for you, being alone with me like this, you know?"

“Don’t you know I don’t care? They can say what they want to say, but there’s nothing anywhere that says I can’t date you."

“But they’re going to question every warrant you give—“

He silences you with a kiss, pitting an arm around your shoulder. “You’re a detective. Not a sergeant. Olivia’s the one who asks me for warrants.”

“They could still say—“

“Let them talk."

“Okay,” you say, leaning against his chest. “I'm sorry I accused you of not caring. I know you do. You're meeting with McCoy later, right?"

"Yeah. Hopefully, it goes well."

"Hopefully," you grin. You lean up, kissing the side of his jaw. He chuckles as your hair tickles the skin of his neck.

“You did a good job, bebita. I’m proud of you.” He squeezes your knee and you turn to kiss him. It’s a languid kiss, long and soft, filled with yearning. He almost forgets where he is, all he can feel is you, his hands threading in your hair. He wants to take you right here, but it’s not a primal urge, it’s a soft one, where he needs to be in you to feel you.

"You want to be the one that gets us into a mess this time?" you tease. "Regardless of what happens, it is probably best if we keep our distance from now on, at least in the courthouse."

"Not the easiest task, mujer," he whispers, running his thumb over your lower lip before kissing you again.

——

What in the hell kind of music were you listening to? Some woman was singing about how she didn't know her last name, and you were belting along, just off-key enough for it to be grating. But he doesn't say anything, because you were in such a good mood, chopping vegetables in his kitchen, and he'd hate to burst your bubble after that week the two of you had.

You reach up for him, kissing him gently on the mouth before he puts his briefcase down, and then you're back to your work at the cutting board, swiveling your hips a little to the music. The song switches over to another country song, and you're saying, "This is what a woman wants," slightly out-of-time with the recording. If it was anyone else, again, Rafael would be the first to point out how irritating that is... but it's you, and he'll spare you the smartass-remarks.

The song isn't what he'd prefer to listen to, either, but you're cooking his freaking dinner, so he's let you be the DJ more often. It's obviously meant for comedic effect - the singer's elaborating on all the things her man should do for her, and how it's okay if she doesn't reciprocate. And you're coming over to him, wiggling your eyebrows and squeezing his upper arms as she sings "better show me a teasin'-squeezin'-pleasin' kinda time".

All Rafael can do is chuckle and kiss you. It was rare that you got this enthused, not to say you were melancholy most of the time, but you were like him in that it took a lot to get you excited or cheerful. Maybe you had reason to, today, as McCoy cleared the two of you and said it was fine to continue your relationship, but Olivia had to keep tabs on you and Rafael would be watched with a closer eye.

Just another headache. Maybe it was worth it, though, to have you dancing in his kitchen at 9 pm while you make enchiladas and make his apartment feel like a home.

"And when I cook his dinner and burn it black, he better say, mm, I like it like that," you sing, cackling with laughter as he raises an eyebrow.

"You better not start burning my food now, (y/n). Your reputation precedes you. I know you can cook."

But maybe that's all anyone wants - and leave it to Rafael to try and analyze a song meant for comedic value - but everyone just wants someone to spare their feelings, someone they can come home to after a long day and who won't add to the weight of the burden the world put on them, at least not when the going's already tough. And couldn't he have that with you?

"Come on, Rafi, this is where you come in," you giggle. "Let me hear you say 'yeah'..."

And even though he feels beyond stupid, he plays along, attempting to harmonize with the male vocalists that come in despite not knowing the song. Then, you're dancing to the rest of it, "shimmy, shake, make the earth quake" - and yes, you're the sexiest woman he can remember ever being in the presence of - but you're also beautiful, happy, and so fucking alive.

His breath catches in his throat and he realizes what that is - it's been so fucking long since it's happened - but he knows now, he loves you. Should he tell you? This moment won't stay perfect forever, and it's fading as quickly as the song fades out, but what if he doesn't actually love you? Shouldn't he spare you that heartache, if he should ever wake up from this spell you had him under? God, this was why he always hesitated: how do you know, and how do you know if it will last? Besides, what if you didn't love him back?

But he'd never had anyone fight to be with him like you did, and you'd told him multiple times you'd look into transferring to a different SVU if it came to that. And, come to think of it, he'd never fought to be with someone, either. Granted, this was a unique situation not posed by his ex-lovers, but either Rafael or them proved they wouldn't be willing to go through a struggle to stay together by ending the relationship for whatever reason.

Still, Rafael can't get himself to say the words, simple as they are, and the moment slips through his fingers like maybe you will one day as the song bleeds into another one. He's tuning it out, though, kissing you and trying to stop his mind from running away with all his fears and doubts.

How long would you wait for him to be ready, though?

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

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lemonz-and-limez · 4 years

Text

The Amends Consideration

A/N: @ailurophilia72 if you ask, you shall receive.

This one is a heavy one, I'm not going to lie. Saw this prompt on tumblr and it got my brain going I just couldn't get it out of my head. Death has reared its ugly head in my life again and that kind of fueled a lot of this story. I am in a lot of pain right now and I needed it out. This story was the product.

I know in Young Sheldon, George is portrayed a lot differently than what is let on in Big Bang. I tried to go for the way he was described in BBT, a darker version definitely compared to what we see in YS. Just for full disclosure.

Prompt: Sheldon gets sad when he realizes his dad will never get to meet his child

Sheldon didn't know what to think as he pulled his mother's unexpected package out of the mailbox. Mary hadn't mentioned anything about sending him something, so the contents of the small box in his hand was a mystery.

He sorted through the rest of the mail on the elevator ride back up to his and Amy's shared apartment. Bills, adds, a couple of congratulations cards for the upcoming birth of their son. But nothing interested him more than the nondescript box he cradled under his arm.

As the elevator doors dinged open, Sheldon paid no mind to the obvious chatter coming from 4A. Penny and Bernadette had teamed up to throw Amy a baby shower, which his wife wanted but never had time to plan. With her two friends already being mothers themselves, they decided it would be easier to take the responsibility into their own hands. Of course, that meant Amy would probably be gone most of the day, knowing how those ladies like to chat. Sheldon didn't mind though, he never cared if he was on his own.

He had planned on getting some work done that he had neglected during the week. No day like Saturday to get things done, after all. However, the second he stepped back into his apartment, he threw everything from the mailbox except his mother's package onto the kitchen counter.

Sitting down on the teal couch, Sheldon inspected the parcel on the coffee table in front of him. "Alright, let's find out what you are," Sheldon whispered to no one, taking out his tiny pocket knife and carefully cutting the tape. The box opened from the side, so he spilled the contents out before him. There was a loud clunk as something heavy, and plastic hit the table. A couple other things fell out with it, one of which was a note from his mother.

Shelly,

Found this while cleaning out the garage. Figured it was something you should have. Forgive me for watching it without you, but I needed to know what was on the tape.

Please watch it, baby. He would have wanted you to see it.

Love, Mom

Sheldon set the note back down on the table and picked up the item that had caused the most ruckus on its way out of the box. A VHS tape. Probably the last thing Sheldon expected his mother to send. Upon further inspection, Sheldon found his father's handwriting scrawled across the label.

Make Amends – For Sheldon

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sheldon sighed heavily. A part of him didn't even want to give this tape the time of day. His father had been dead a long time; there was no need to dig up dirt from twenty-six years ago. But his curiosity couldn't help but wonder what his father could possibly have said to him on this tape.

According to her note, Mary had watched it already. Should he just call her and just have her tell him what was on it?

No. Sheldon was mature enough to watch this recording without calling his Mommy for assistance.

He moved quickly around the small living space and in front of the television. After the "football game tape over" incident last year, Sheldon invested in a used VHS player. Amy had teased him about it for weeks, but he couldn't possibly tell her the real reason he got it. Not to watch old movies from his childhood, which he did so Amy couldn't call his bluff, but to listen to his father's voice again when he started to forget what it sounded like.

With a few expert moves, Sheldon had the video playing in no time. Cradling the remote in his hands, back on the couch now, he leaned forward with rapt attention.

George Cooper was already in view, adjusting the camera on whatever he had it perched on. Which, according to the date, also on the label, was in 1994.

It was only a couple of seconds before his father had settled into the chair of his old office at Sheldon's old high school. From the looks of things, it seemed dark, like it was late in the evening. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to think about it too much because the dead man started talking. Literally.

"Hello, Sheldon," George sighed. "I don't know when this video is going to find you or how you're going to take it, but this needs to be said, Son. I have to say this to you. Especially to you."

His father paused for a moment as if to compose himself. The moisture in his eyes told Sheldon enough.

"I'm in a twelve-step program, Sheldon. For my drinkin'. And before you think of it, no, your mother is not forcing me into it. I am going on my own free will, but I am doing it for her. I love your mom, Sheldon, I know you probably don't believe that, but I do."

Another pause.

"Step nine of this program is to make amends with people I have harmed. And a part of me knows you will never fully forgive me, but of all the people I need to apologize to, you're at the top of the list, Sheldon. Not just because of what you have seen, or the things I have said to you drunk, but because of my shortcomings as a father."

"I always had this idea of what a man should be. The typical, all things masculine, into sports, rootin' for the Dallas Cowboy's kinda stuff. But you never did fit that role, did ya, son?"

Sheldon watched his father smile at his question. There wasn't malice in his eyes like he was angry, but instead, he seemed almost proud of him.

"Georgie was always the one who liked to go outside and play catch with me, and go fishin', and do all of the things 'typical boys like to do'. You never had an interest in any of that, and because of it, I never treated you as I should. As a father should. Unconditional love no matter what your child does or likes. I tried to change you at any chance I could get, and that wasn't fair to you. I should have embraced your intelligence. I should have bought you that science kit you wanted instead of that dirt bike. I should have been the father you deserved, Sheldon, because you did. You are amazing, son, and I am so insanely proud to be your father."

Sheldon wasn't expecting this. He didn't think his father was capable of saying such heartfelt words about him. His father could sing praises about Georgie's accomplishments all day long, few as they may have been. But even though Sheldon never heard George say he was proud while he was alive, hearing the words said over tape struck a chord within him.

Before the man on the screen could start talking again, Sheldon pressed pause. At the beginning of the video, he had expected George to discuss the unfortunate affair that Sheldon had unfortunately born witness to. After all, that was his most blatant faux pas. But his dad had dug deeper, past the surface, past the infidelity. He looked for the root problem of his relationship with his son. Sheldon's father was a man much like himself, never liked to outwardly display emotions often, but when he did, they were sincere. So, for the great George Cooper to open up like this, to a camera albeit, meant a great deal to him.

It had been a long time since Sheldon had thought of his dad the way he was at the moment. Like the man who raised him, who helped shape who he was today, and not the man who simply cheated on his mother. That was the title he had held in Sheldon's eyes for a long time. There had been a few cracks here and there. Like he and Amy's wedding or the night they watched the pep talk George gave the football team in the locker room. But those moments were fleeting. Gone as quickly as they came.

Perhaps it was because Sheldon had yet to hear the contents of this tape. The fact that he never made amends with his father before he died had forever tainted his perspective of him. Sheldon couldn't be sure.

All he knew was that he suddenly felt much more at peace in regards to his dad. But in place of Sheldon's bitterness and anger towards him was a tug of grief in his gut that he hadn't felt for years. The twisting knot of pain that permeated throughout his entire body.

His dad in the video, had said he was proud of him. Insanely proud of him. And yet, he didn't even live long enough to see half of his greatest accomplishments. He never got to see him with a Ph.D., win a Nobel, and countless other awards. He didn't get to meet Sheldon's friends, never got to meet Amy. His father's absence was felt heavily at their wedding.

And now, as Sheldon was on the cusp of becoming a father himself, he wouldn't get to meet his grandson.

Even from his seated position on the couch, Sheldon doubled over from the crippling feeling that came with that thought. Missy had expressed similar views when she gave birth to her first child, but Sheldon hadn't expected that feeling to be so intense. So utterly heartbreaking.

Sheldon wouldn't get to see both of his parents cradling his newborn. His son wouldn't be able to enjoy two grandfathers. Or learn football from his Texan Pop-Pop and be forced to root for the Cowboys no matter how bad their record was.

His son would never meet the formidable George Cooper.

The dry sob that escaped his mouth surprised him. But then came another one, and again, and again, until his face was no longer dry. Sheldon could hardly remember the last time he had cried like this over his father. He had done it once in the twenty-six almost twenty-seven years his father had been dead. The day he found out his father passed away when he was alone in his dorm room miles away from home. But he was fourteen then, barely able to understand the true concept of death. Sure, he knew the science behind it, but not the emotions. Not the grief.

Still, the tears he shed in his living room were not unlike those he had shed in his dorm room. Alone, vulnerable, miles away from Texas. But one key element was different; he now could fully understand the scope of what his father being gone meant. How it impacted the lives of his family. How it changed what his son's childhood would look like.

Sheldon was now beginning to dread the day he would have to explain to his son why he only had one grandfather while everyone else at school had two. Hopefully, Amy's dad lived long enough so he wouldn't have to explain to his kid why he had none.

With his elbows rested on his knees and his fingers interlaced behind his head, he let his body feel the emotion running through it. He didn't try to surpass it as he had for years. But that just made it all the more intense.

"Sheldon?"

His head snapped up at the sound of Amy's voice. His heavily pregnant wife stood in the open doorway to their apartment, staring at him with concern.

Amy glanced at the TV for a moment. "What's wrong?" She asked, slowly walking the short distance to the couch.

Sheldon frantically wiped at his face, trying to make himself look more presentable. As if that mattered to Amy. "This came in the mail today." He held up the empty box his mother sent. "Mom was cleaning out the garage when she found this tape of my dad. She wanted me to have it," his voice cracked with the last few words as he threw the cardboard back onto the table.

Amy, now sitting next to him, rubbed his back soothingly. "Well, what was on it?"

"It's nothing, just my Dad explaining he was in a twelve-step program, and he wanted to make amends with me."

"So, why the tears?"

His face scrunched up again. "I don't… it just… it just hit me that our son will never be able to meet him," he sobbed. Sheldon gestured with his hands and tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. "I-I-I don't know that j-just hurt more than I-I expected it t-to," he eventually stuttered.

Amy sniffled beside him, which made Sheldon finally look back up at her. She gave him a sad smile as she continued to rub his hunched back. "What was on the video that made you realize that?"

"I thought he was going to apologize for the affair, the one I walked in on. Instead, it was for his mistakes as a father. How he never seemed as proud of me as he did with Georgie. I didn't think my dad was capable of digging below the surface, but he did. He found the true problem with our relationship, and he wanted to make up for it." Sheldon picked up the remote and rewound the tape a little. "I mean, I have never seen my father talk about me this way. Look."

He pressed play.

"I should have been the father you deserved, Sheldon, because you did. You are amazing, son, and I am so insanely proud to be your father."

The video stopped again.

"If he was proud of me then, how would he feel about me now? Just the fact that I found you… he would have been over the moon. I'm sure of it. But now we're about to have a son, and he won't be here for it? I just…" Sheldon trailed off, not knowing quite how to word what he was feeling.

But Amy nodded in understanding. "Above all else, you wish he were here for our son," she stated, not asked.

"Yes. Despite all of my father's faults, he did care about his family. He would've gone down protecting us, probably, if a heart attack hadn't claimed him first. In light of all of my professional accomplishments, this is what would have meant the most to him."

Sheldon glanced down at his wife's stomach, where their son was visibly wiggling around. He smiled fondly at the sight but swallowed thickly at the emotion that rose with it. In a few short weeks, he would be holding that baby, their families would be surrounding them. Rejoicing with them.

But George Cooper wouldn't be there.

Suddenly, Amy's hand was no longer on his back but on his knee. "Sheldon," she beckoned him to look at her. "There's nothing I could say that would make this any easier for you, but might I suggest something?"

He nodded.

She laid her free hand on her stomach. "What do you think about making the baby's middle name George?"

"What?" He gawked. "I thought you wanted it to be William. You know, for Darcy."

She stared at him long and hard for a moment and then patted his leg. "I did, but I already got Elliot; let me give you this one."

Sheldon shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "You're doing all the hard work; you should get to decide two of the names. Seeing as how you don't want to hyphenate his last name."

Amy grimaced suddenly and held a hand to her side, her face scrunched up in pain. And suddenly, Sheldon was on high alert. "What's wrong? Are you having contractions?"

"No." She waved her hand at him. "Just got kicked pretty hard, that's all." He opened his mouth to point out her hard work again but she stopped him. "Look, Sheldon, I am really not upset about our kids only being Coopers. Seriously. I want to do this for you. I want his middle name to be George."

"Are you one hundred percent sure? You don't just feel sorry for me because my dad is dead and you think this will cheer me up?"

It sounded stupid coming out of his own mouth. Sheldon could only imagine what it sounded like to Amy.

"Sweetheart," she endeared. "Our son's middle name should be special, not the name of a fictional character. We only decided on William because we couldn't think of anything else. Neither one of us suggested George for some reason. I have no emotional attachments to the name William, but I do to the name George. We both do."

Sheldon took her hand in his own. "You're sure about this?"

"Absolutely. Besides, don't you think Elliot George Cooper sounds better than Elliot William Cooper?"

"William did lack a certain panache, didn't it?" Sheldon smirked, finally coming around after more convincing than it should have.

Amy laughed at that, but her face went serious again rather quickly. "I'm sorry you miss your dad, Sheldon. I would have loved to meet him."

"And he would have loved to meet you."

Sheldon looked back at the TV, his father's paused face, still staring back at him. He really did look like his father. His mother had always said so, but he never believed her. Now an adult, it was like looking into a mirror. He really was his mini-me.

If Elliot got Sheldon's eyes, then he would really have George's eyes. Sheldon only had them because of his father. Suddenly, he selfishly understood Amy's hope for their children to have his eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" Amy asked, pulling him from his reverie.

"It's just uncanny how similar my father and I look. I guess now I'm just being selfish in hoping our son looks like me." Sheldon looked over and was met with Amy's blank expression. "Not that I don't want him to look like you," he quickly tried to cover himself.

Amy giggled and motioned for him to stop. "I wasn't thinking that. I know what you meant. Your dad may no longer be alive, but he lives on through his children and their children. Not to sound overly sappy."

"Too late," he joked. "I know I am being overly sentimental right now because I'm thinking about my dad. But seeing his face again, hearing his voice, I guess I'm just trying to hold onto whatever I can of him."

"That's grief, honey," Amy said softly.

Sheldon nodded, acknowledging the truth and the harsh reality behind those words. "I know, and I haven't allowed myself to feel that for a long time."

They sat in relative silence for a moment, the gentle whirring of the VHS player the only sound filling the air. There was still more on the tape; George certainly had more to say. Sheldon was sure of it. He thought for a moment, then turned to his wife and asked, "do you want to watch the rest of the tape with me?"

"Really?"

He nodded slightly.

"I do."

George Cooper's voice sounded once more in a matter of seconds.

"Sheldon, I know you are going to do great things one day. I have known that since… well… forever. I know you're going to find amazing people to surround yourself with who will love you and treat you the way you deserve to be treated."

Check.

"I know you will make countless accomplishments academically, more than you have already."

Check.

"I know you will fall in love with someone someday who will make your heart soar."

Sheldon and Amy smiled at each other, squeezing each other's hand slightly. Check.

"I know you will have exceptional, amazing children one day because you and I both know you are too exceptional to not do so."

Almost check.

"I know you're going to live a full life, Sheldon. Because you have such a drive for greatness, and I know you have my stubbornness, so, you will settle for nothing less."

George leaned forward, on his desk Sheldon was assuming.

"I know I have a lot of making up to do, and I hope someday you will accept this apology. I know you have a kind heart, Sheldon; I have seen it with my own eyes. I will understand if you can't, I have failed you as a father thus far, but I hope that someday you will extend that kindness towards me. I cannot wait to see you grow up, do all the things I know you want to do. Hopefully, I'll be around to see you accomplish most of them."

Sheldon should have finished the video before he started crying earlier. The fact that this was taped less than a year before his father passed away did not escape him. Nor did that make his pain any easier.

He figured, at least now he had Amy by his side.

"I hope that when this video finds you, you will listen and not throw it away. Even if that's what I probably deserve. I'm going to try sending these tapes out soon, so call me if you see this. Just let me know you've watched it. If that's all you can do for now, I'll understand; I've got a lot of things to work on."

His father smiled fondly at the camera. Not the forced one that Sheldon could always remember from his childhood but a genuine, real smile. It was also his smile.

"I love you, Sheldon. Talk to you soon."

The video stopped and began to rewind to the beginning. Amy was rubbing at his back again, soothing him as tears once again fell from his eyes. But Sheldon was still too transfixed on the screen. He whispered it so quietly, he doubted Amy would be able to hear it. Which would be fine. It was one of the few things not meant for her ears anyway.

"I love you too, dad."

A/N: Well that ended darker than I usually end this. This story ended up being surprisingly personal to me for a lot of reasons, and since I am dab smack in the middle of grief it just didn't feel right to have some uber sappy happy ending, because that's not genuine. That's not real. It's bittersweet at the least I hope.

Thank you so much for reading, especially right now, it means the world to me.

#shamy #shamy fanfic

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mari-lair · 4 years

Text

To Die For - Alternative endings.

There is no good endings, only some neutrals and bad ones. None of these are canon but I thought some people might enjoy reading it still.

Ending 0: Ignorance - Ray never find out who’s the murderer, clinging to his family and his boyfriend throught every lost. Suffering traumas and growing more suspicious and dependable. With time, he ends up marrying Norman. His life is plagued with incidents and he have grown used to being covered in injuries but he’s happy enough. Having a wonderful husbend at home it’s enough. It have to be.

Ending 1 Prison - Norman is send to prison, he manages to reduce his huge sentence to three years after a lot of money and Lewis’s influence is put on the table. Ray goes to university to study about his case, determined to find a way to treat Norman’s, convinced is some disorder, some sickness that could be -if not cured- at least controlled and weakened. Give Norman a reabilitation of sorts. Even if they no longer dated after Norman was free - He promised himself he wouldn’t let a murderer touch him like that ever again. He wanted to help him. (this ending was made with Nila’s help)

Ending 2: Killer - After Hayato dies, Norman uses Emma as the victim for his framed murder to ‘kill’. Ray learns the truth soon after Emma’s death, he grow mad and tries to kill Norman. It’s not a successful attempt, Norman has experience in this field, but it does give the murderer hope. The attack proving ray is capable of murder if he’s angry enough. He starts small, kidnaps him with a defenseless deer and says he’ll kill his parents if he doesn’t kill the deer. Ray reluctantly kills the deer. Norman is happy. He throws a fellow murderer in the cell and says the same thing. The defenseless and tied up murderer dies. Is the sexiest thing norman ever seen! He falls deeper in love. Ray positively hates him. When Norman visits him again he gets attacked, but he’s been too long away from Ray, he’s willing to die in his arms.

Ending 3: Delusional - Ray learns the truth late. A week before their marriage. He is utterly betrayed, so angry and grief stricken he punches Norman in the face, not holding back. Norman hit his head hard. Bleeding out. It’s a pretty serious injury, Ray toys with the idea of letting the murderer die but he can’t do it, he still loves his Snow White, no matter how much blood stained his hands. He called the ambulance and worked hard to pay for his recovery. Glad when everyone that cares about Norman helped with the payment. Norman stays unconscious in the hospital for two week, when he wakes up, he has no memory. He doesn’t recognize Ray, doesn’t remember his own name. Ray throws any heavy talk of them breaking up out the window and takes this as a desperate chance of staying together. He knows it’s madness but he’s unwilling to let go of Norman, doing all he could to keep him on a good path. Shape him into the mask Norman had shown him and make their marriage happens. It didn’t work. Norman may have fallen in love again, wearing sweet smiles and being sappy but he still had muscle memory on how to draw jewelry designs. On how to kill. Norman stopped hiding any of his disturbing fantasies, unconsciously smiling when feeling nothing but having no memories of all the reasons why he should hide his murderous tendencies from people. He was very curious. Extremely dangerous. Sexual desires and murder fantasies impossible to distinguish. Ray died from fatal injuries in a make out that starts innocent but got out of control far too fast. Norman is sent to prison two days later. Even with the accusations, curses and all the chaos Ray’s death brought. It took Norman four days to fully understand what he did. He went mad. Already unstable and confused without the unfamiliar and terrifying feeling of heartbreak to deal with.

Ending 4: Friendly intervention - Lewis is convinced his bussiness partner would kill himself because of his foolish affection for the baker. He may not look like it but he does carry some affection towards Norman, a twisted one that is hard to categorize but could be considered paternal, so he takes matter on his own hands and pay Ray’s bakery a visit, intending to kill him. The man is charmed however, understanding why Norman felt in love and deciding to take Ray out in what Lewis consider an honor. He takes Ray to his playground: An illegal area where he kidnaps people to hunt them down. Emma team up with Norman to figure out where Ray is. They form a friendship and eventually find their way to his playground. Norman is furious when he learns the truth, growing possitivaly feral when he finds Ray dead. He doesn’t care that Emma is around, doesn’t care about the risks of facing such a lethal oponent. When he spot his ‘old friend’ his world goes red. He won’t be satisfied until he do what he always told himself to do, and kill Lewis. Blind him and break him. Make the old man suffer. Lewis hesitate. Norman doesn’t.

Ending 5:Together Forever- The truth is out two months after they get married. Norman tries to convince Ray to stay together despite his murderous tendencies coming to light. He promises to do anything Ray wants, promise not to kill anyone, even going as far as to swear to stop manipulating people, needing Ray by his side. Addicted to their little domestic life. Norman is telling the truth, but since almost everything Norman feeds him has been lies Ray does not believe his promises. He’s heartbroken and betrayed. He hates Norman for everything he did but he still loves his husband. It’s painful. He doesn’t want to call the cops on his Snow White but he doesn’t want to see him either. Doesn’t want to think about who he has been sleeping with. After a few hours of isolation in their room, he comes to a decision “If you lay a finger on me or anyone I love again I am calling the cops. Take your things and get away from my house. Don’t you dare come back!” Norman knows he’s serious from the way he avoided contact and slapped him when he tried to approach so he did his best to stay away, not wanting to go to prison. It takes less than a week to understand watching Ray's footages wasn’t enough to satiate a body used to hold, spoiling, knows and loving the real thing. He needed to be by Ray’sside. No matter how. He know his charms won’t work however, knows it would be impossible to restart their relationship or mend it back to that dream like domesticity, so he settles for following Ray's rules. He bribes officers and forges evidence against Ray, getting him arrested for a murder the baker never committed and proceeding to attack someone in plain sign. Bribing more people to get himself locked up in his ex-husband's cell. Ray is miserable, curled up in a corner with puffy eyes and a broken future but Norman doesn’t care, more than happy to see him again, giggly at the prospect of spending their 58 years sentence together!

Ending 6: Kidnapped - Ray learns the truth far too quickly. He want to call the police but Norman threatens his parents life. There’s a fight born out of panic, since Norman is far more experienced he knocks Ray out, drugging and kidnapping him. This one have been written.

#norray #the promised neverland #to die for #none of them are canon

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themissingmarvel · 4 years

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Kind Regards, Detective [Part 8]

(I am going to prompt this with first, an apology for how long it’s been. I blame Animal Crossing as well as the apocalypse. That said, and this is a TW/CW there is a major death. So be advised.)

CATCH UP: [Part 1] // [Part 2] // [Drabble] // [Part 3] // [Part 4] // [Drabble 2] // [Part 5] // [Part 6] // [Part 7]

Pairing: Detective Loki x fbi!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Language, descriptions of violence, major character death

They didn’t fall asleep right away. Which made sense on many levels. She was still shaken and he was still quite taken with the woman in his arms, who he had dreamed of namelessly for so long. She was already a dream. But that was dangerous, and he knew it.

She told him stories of training in the bureau, and what she had encountered. Being a woman and an agent was never easy. He told her stories about when he started off as a beat cop and his first time arresting someone back when he worked in Philadelphia. He talked about having seen so much and knowing what he did, he wanted to bring his work to an area that didn’t always get attention. That needed good cops. Conyers had been that place.

Her words were shaky when she discussed the loss of her sister, and that was what the CD had been in reference to. David had lost so much in his life so young he supposed he didn’t really understand that kind of pain the way he wanted to. He hadn’t ever loved something like that before. He had felt adrift, a ship without an anchor. Love was a memory to him and he dreamed of it sometimes so hard he could taste it.

When they did finally fall asleep, David had buried himself against her and they had managed to look disgustingly adorable in a way neither would ever admit to, even in a court of law. Y/N had prided herself on her ability to keep work separate. It helped that at least once a month she’d spend a couple days out of town. Sometimes longer. Meant she had good excuses for staying settled. David had no such excuse save for his own emotional damage as a child and teen.

Her phone was what stirred her from sleep, sleep that rarely came so deeply. The phone was by her bed, the issued FBI one she was sure was being tracked but didn’t much care. Breaking away from the warm embrace of the man who had no business being as wonderful as he was, she fumbled for it before answering, not registering the emergency ring, “Agent Y/L/N. Yes, that’s what I said. Wait, what?”

Loki had stirred when she woke, though more so as he watched her suddenly sit up, pushing back her hair that had become quite a mess. He was almost hurt he didn’t get a chance to see her as she woke. A soft waking. Not this.

Already she was on her feet, “No. That’s incorrect. I’m still in New York, the drive was a nightmare so I decided to stay at a hotel and- it doesn’t matter. Check my phone records, I never-!”

She was silent, David sitting up as he watched her, a frantic look suddenly dissipating from her delicate features, her skin pale, eyes wide, looking like a deer in headlights. So far he had found that answering the phone was not ending well for either of them.

He was adjusting his own hair, standing and going for his shirt and belt, watching as she pulled the phone away to look at the screen.

By now she had adjusted to this sort of new normal. Henry Best was not a shy man and she suspected that for a long time he had been killing people. For whatever reason, it had escalated the past few months and she was certain when they looked at patterns statewide, they would find a broader, less direct pattern. No roses, but perhaps notes. Ones discarded. A disappearance and a body found days or weeks later would be easily dismissed by an overworked department.

Closing her eyes tightly, she took a breath before lifting the phone back to her ear, “When was he found? Yeah, check the hotel records I don’t give a fuck. You think I seriously killed my own coworker?! Tell Kendrick to call me himself, then!” She pulled the phone back and hung it up.

It was six in the morning, and she supposed the few hours of sleep they had gotten was a blessing, but one she would regret. She would speak at the funeral later and try not to loudly blame herself, but it would be hard not to. She hadn’t pulled the trigger but she had left a loaded gun on the table just the same. She had let David in and in turn let other parts of herself go.

David was quiet before he spoke, “What happened?”

What a stupid question. It was met by a look of anger he didn’t recognize immediately but knew as rage. It was a powerful kind of rage that clouded judgment and made people do stupid things. He hoped it was the kind of rage Y/N could reign in and use as fuel but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know enough. He knew fragments and pieces and he hoped she could keep herself together. Keller Dover had let that rage nearly destroy him and almost got himself killed. It was personal.

“Adrian is dead. They found his body in the parking lot of an empty office building, two shots to the chest. They found texts on his phone from me, though we both know it wasn’t. It was ‘me’, asking to meet him with important information I was ‘too scared’ to speak over the phone. Adrian died alone, bleeding to death in a parking lot because of me.”

Her face was stoic, eyes cold and echoing of something akin to heartbreak. She didn’t love Adrian. Not really. But she liked him. She liked how he flirted and made her feel cute, how he called her ‘ladybug’ and would grin even through the phone. Even when he was such a fucking asshole, blowing off her requests for meeting up or talking about his dates… she knew. He wasn’t a bad man, he was kind of a dick, but he sure as hell didn’t deserve to die. But she had killed him, hadn’t she? Maybe she didn’t pull the trigger but she left the gun on the table.

When her sister died, long ago, rage had taken the place of sadness and grief. She had felt anger like no other that the world would have reached out and taken her sister from her. It wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair. Sadness was so hard to manage but rage and anger was always so much more reasonable, in an odd way. Sadness you had to cope with but rage you could channel elsewhere. It also made you stupid as hell.

Loki was walking to where Y/N was, reaching for her arm before she snatched it away, “Hey, this isn’t your fault, we both know-”

“But it is!” She stared at him, eyes wide and deadly cool, “It is my fault, David. I thought that this,” she gestured between the two of them, “was a good idea. And it wasn’t. Henry got my phone credentials somehow and he got to Adrian.”

David stepped back, absorbing the blow that hit him right in the chest. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but when a wounded cat is cornered and injured it will always lash out, even at what it loves the most. She was defending herself. Somewhere he knew that, in the same way he knew he would be doing the same, were he in her position. But he allowed it to sink, instead stepping away and getting himself dressed.

He was cautious as he watched her solemnly get dressed, do her hair as best she could before silently stepping into the bathroom to use the crappy-but-acceptable toothbrush and toothpaste provided. Her brain was trying to process what just happened, but so was David’s. He was reeling from the pain of being told he was a mistake, and because he knew that she didn’t mean it. He hoped she didn’t. He felt responsible as well, that he had distracted her from the case. Perhaps, he thought, it might give him clarity to have the step back that she didn’t.

If Henry had reached out to Adrian, it was because he knew a few things. First, he knew that Adrian provided Y/N with information frequently enough that he had access to quite a bit of data. He probably knew more than he even realized he knew, and he was a risk. Also, Henry knew that Adrian trusted Y/N completely. Enough that he’d simply drive in the middle of the night to meet up with her over a simple text. But doesn’t the FBI train better?

Suddenly it was David working like a profiler, and perhaps it was the brain of the woman he had slept next to that was rubbing off on him.

It didn’t make sense that Adrian would just trust a text message from Y/N, did it?

Looking down at his own phone, he scanned through a few missed calls and voicemails, a text or two from guys at the precinct. Opening his work mail, he noted a few important forensic items and tabbed them for later. One that stood out was the email that the PAM shots had come in.

When Y/N came out she was silent, her words feeling like pain, should she utter them. Instead, she grabbed her things, hardly looking at David as she felt the weight of the boulder she had decided to shoulder pressing down on her before breathing out the words, “Let’s go.”

___

The drive itself hadn’t taken long, all things considered. Y/N had insisted she drive her own car, the reliable car that felt reliably foreign, making her feel like an alien in a world she was supposed to be part of. Adrian didn’t deserve to die. Arguably, most folks didn’t, really. He was a good guy, though. He did the stuff you were supposed to do. Being an asshole wasn’t a reason to off someone and yet Henry (and she was sure it was Henry) had chosen him specifically. Whether or not it was because he ‘knew’ something, it was calculated. Gunshots, however, meant this was not as planned as he had wanted it to be. Something had been off. Emotions had been involved. This had been a crime of passion and not a single note was left behind. Not a single rose.

He wasn’t the pattern, though. So it made sense.

Pulling up to the precinct, she got out and made her way to the door, aware of Detective Loki only steps behind her, protective in a way he didn’t like, even for himself. Henry was bold, however. Further forensics on the phone had shown Y/N’s phone had been cloned, of course. She supposed handing the man her jacket in his office where he had defense level technology hadn’t been her smartest move.

She had to play chess and make him think she was still playing checkers.

“Agent? This was delivered about an hour ago, one of the DC Agents dropped it himself. Credentials checked out. It’s for you.” A young man was behind the precinct desk, looking a little tired but otherwise unbothered, handing her a small package. She was curious, though not concerned this time, able to spot the small sticker on the bottom left of a glittering ladybug.

Taking the box she glanced at David and nodded her head towards the long hallway that led towards the interrogation rooms. She was silent, moving like a whisper over the ugly rug in the dingy department that desperately needed an upgrade. Opening the door to the other side of the one-way mirror, she removed her jacket and her phone, David following suit. It was eerie, how silent she was, even her movements noiseless as she fiddled with the microphone settings and turned off all recording devices. She went so far as to power them off entirely, making the room dark.

Shutting the door, the young woman gently opened the box and withdrew a sleek, silver Samsung Galaxy, definitely not government issue. Squinting, she pressed the power button and turned it on, the phone booting up with no problem, the background a picture of a ladybug. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes and smirk through the pain, “Subtle, as always.”

Sitting down, David took a seat by her, watching as the phone appeared to begin on its own, the woman taking the cue to prop it up and sit back, the two close by once more as they watched a video begin.

“I know. This isn’t subtle, right? I mean, if you’re watching it then it’s not supposed to be. After what Henry did, I didn’t want you getting another package and being scared again.”

It was Adrian, his face, brown scruff over his handsome features, sharp jawline and broad shoulders visible, stunning hazel eyes that were arguably more green than hazel visible. His hair was dark brown as well, normally gelled down and styled, though a bit more tussled now. He was sitting in his apartment, what looked to be his apartment. Pictures of his family were behind him and he was sitting on his couch, beige… funny the things we choose to see.

“He texted me tonight. I mean, you did, from what police records will show, but it’s him. He’s gotta think I’m some next-level idiot, you know? He tried to get your tone down but he can’t get that icy exterior quite right,” he smirked, looking into the camera, Y/N’s eyes softened as she knew she was watching the final moments of a man’s life. You don’t turn away from something like that.

“It’s my fault… I’m sorry.” She whispered as she watched the video, her body caving in on itself as she felt herself tense.

“And before you apologize, don’t! Hey, for all I know, things turned out just fine and you’re gonna make fun of me for this video and I’ll get the credit for catching The Black Rose! I won’t let you live it down,” he smirked.

Tears burned at her eyes, holding a hand over her mouth to stop herself from speaking again, almost wounded by how eerie it was how well he knew her. It fucking hurt.

“I can’t call you on your phone because it’ll route to his. He has authority over it by now, so don’t trust it, whatever you read on it. It’s useless. I used this because I knew I could jailbreak it and install the firmware to keep him out. But yeah, this’ll be pretty useless too if he gets wind of it.

“Anyway. He wants to meet me. I figure if I can get some recordings of him in the parking lot, maybe clone his phone myself without him knowing, maybe I can get something off him for you. If not, if you’re watching this and feeling like shit… it means it’s a good thing I sent the phone. Because if you’re watching this, much like those tropes I know you hate, then I’m dead, Ladybug. And I’m sorry for that one. But it sure as hell isn’t your responsibility and you need to know I’m doing this because I chose to. You’ve always been the brave one, Y/N. I’ve watched you take hits from assholes, get threatened, travel across the country, work yourself through hell on earth… you’re brave. You’re good at your job. And you always deserved better than me. Doesn’t make much sense to tell you I always loved you, so I won’t. But I’m doing this not for you, but because of you. Catch the asshole.”

The video closed, another taking its place, this one far grainier and from within a spot on the dash of Adrian’s car. It was a shitty camera, one that would be found, quite obviously, and that was broadcasting a recording. Later they’d find out not even Henry could trace the broadcast, but Y/N knew. David knew. Both knew as they sat in the dark interview room in the Conyers precinct.

The audio was muffled and quiet, which made sense. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. But it showed Adrian getting out of the car, jacket on, walking over with his hands up. He was speaking, softly, and staying still as another man entered view.

Henry.

He had his hands in his pockets, though he was visible. His head. Face. Hair. Unmistakably Henry Best. It was like watching a horror movie, though, and she hadn’t even realized that David had wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled himself to her, ready to stop the video at any moment.

Shouts were exchanged suddenly, Henry barking at Adrian who stepped back, his hands still up, shaking his head and looking almost quizzical as he tilted his head to the side, “-her…-?” It was barely audible, though Henry’s face contorted into anger, rage, pulling a gun out of his pocket suddenly and screaming, “You could never understand my love for her!”

One shot. Two shots. Three shots.

Each made Y/N jump, tears in her eyes as she watched her friend, one of her closest friends, the man she trusted, shot dead in front of her, the feed suddenly cutting out.

The video closed, leaving only the phone with its basic desktop icons before them, Y/N reaching out and gently picking up the phone, “You fucking idiot, Adrian.” Tears were falling down her cheeks, not that she cared. And even Adrian’s promise that his death was not on her was not enough. The guilt was tremendous and suddenly she felt like she was the one speeding down the highway and popping a tire. She felt everything spinning out of control and she wondered if this was the same kind of end her sister had met. Chaos. Loss. Helplessness. Blame.

It was the icon in the bottom of the screen, however, that snapped her back, looking down at the icon that was only black but was titled all she needed:

“EVIDENCE”.

His last gift was not a video of his death, but rather, Adrian had ensured, was a gift of life and a promise of revenge against the man who had done so much. And, perhaps, a warning of something more sinister.

(Tagging: @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @is-it-madness @detecellie @doritosandavocados @oscarflysaac @peccobagnaia @miss-missing-patd @hockeyandheroes )

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drethanramslay · 4 years

Text

Late nights, Date nights

Pairing: Ethan x MC (Leah Garcia)

Word count: 4.1 K words

Warning: There is fluff and humour in the beginning and smut towards the end. If you are not comfortable reading it, I have distinguished is with asterisks (*)

Taglist: @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @openheart12 @sekizincimektup @junggoku @ethandaddyramsey @edith-eggs1 @ethanramseysgirl (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list 😊)

Songs: Eyes off you by Prettymuch and Unbelievable by Why Don't We

Forgive me if there are any mistakes.

Ethan was pacing around in his office, marching so hard, that it left tracks in the carpet of his office.

C'mon Ethan, Leah is your fucking girlfriend. You can eat her out but, can't ask her out on a simple fucking date??!!

It was their six month anniversary, after months and months of pining over each other. When he thought about it now, he wondered why was he so against the concept? He thought that he was doing the right thing by not giving in, but in the end, he just ended up hurting himself and his Leah.

Leah... His sunshine.

The concept of nicknames never really appeased him. It was such a ‘teenager’ thing to do. When he was with Harper, the word 'babe' made him cringe so hard that it made him want to throw himself off the railing of the mezzanine floor of the hospital.

But with Leah, it was different. She breathed back life into the parts of his soul, which he thought were long dead. She constantly challenged him, pushed him to be a better doctor, a better friend and a better partner. She brought light, to the valleys of abyss and grief. Just like nothing can escape light, Ethan could not escape Leah's affection.

And he didn't want to run anymore..

He had never felt these intense emotions in a very long time. His mother leaving him at a tender age of eleven, made him grow up way to soon. It fucked him up. It made him close up and build walls to protect his heart from such earth shattering pain. It made him distant and cold.

But now he laughed more. Smiled more. And he knew that Leah was the one who saved him.

His salvation. His saving grace. His sunshine.

He decided enough was enough. He spoke to HR and Naveen and they gave them the green light. Leah had already made a great reputation in the hospital for her work ethic, her passion and her compassion. So why waste anymore time?

Ethan was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice Leah come in. "Woah woah Ethan. Are you trying to wear the carpet thin? You just got this office?!" Ethan looked up and saw Leah leaning against the door, with a smile. She was wearing a green blouse with a black pencil skirt. Ethan approved mentally.

"Hey sunshine."

"Hey yourself." She said as she closed the door and stepped into Ethan's embrace. He buried his face into her hair, and inhaled the lavender scent, which immediately soothed him. To him, she smelled like spring. She was perfect.

God, could you be any more sappier Ethan? Be a man.

But he knew, that if Leah even looked his way, he would be down on his knees.

"How was your day?" Ethan asked as he kissed her crown.

"It was so productive. I saved a nine year old girl today. Seeing her parents happy... It was beautiful."

"Well, I never doubted you once." He said with a tender smile, cupping her cheeks. "Also, do you have plans for tonight?"

"Yeahhhh, today is just an ordinary day, with no anniversary whatsoever. I was planning on going home and binging on greys-"

"Sunshine, don't talk shit."

"Hey, but you still love me."

"That I do... Anyways I have made a reservation in 'Osteria' tonight to celebrate our anniversary."

"E, you know that I wouldn't mind staying in bed and drinking cheap wine right?"

"I know, but I want to spoil my baby!! Be ready, I will pick you up by seven."

"I will be ready."

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Ethan rolled up to Leah's penthouse and send her a message. He had donned his black tux but had skipped the tie. He unbuttoned the top buttons of his crisp white shirt. He was going to call her again, when he heard a tap on the window. He looked up and the phone almost fell out of his hands.

Leah stood in front of him, wearing a black evening gown. It was an off shoulder, which showed her collarbones. She was also wearing the ruby stone necklace, her birthstone, which Ethan had gifted her on her birthday. Her jet black hair had been tied up to a messy side bun, a few rebellious strands blowing in the night wind. He steeped out to open the door for her when he almost tripped at the sight.

The dress had a slit which almost went up to her thighs, putting those glorious bronze legs on display.

God, she was gonna be the death of me.

"Wow. You look gorgeous Dr. Garcia."

She blushed red. "You don't look so bad yourself Dr. Ramsey." He pecked her on her lips.

"Shall we?" He opened the door for Leah, like a true gentleman.

"Yes, we shall." Leah giggled and stepped in. Ethan walked around and sat in the driver's seat, and they pulled out of the curb.

The entire ride was filled with jokes, heated gazes and silent promises. Ethan had placed his hand on her bare thigh, slowly caressing it. Leah knew that it was risky to wear such a gown, but she took the chance anyway. And now here she was, slowly going crazy with Ethan's hand on her thigh.

She wanted to devour him. He looked delectable and so very handsome in a tux. The open buttons, gave her a peak of his collarbones and she literally salivated. Collarbones have always been her weakness.

Soon, they showed up at the restaurant. After handing of the keys to the valet, and borderline threatening him that if there was even one scratch, he would have a nice chat with the manager, they headed towards the restaurant.

"God Ethan, you are such a Karen." Leah giggled.

"I maybe old, but I got that reference!! And no, I am not. I am particular."

"Whatever floats your boat babe." She linked her hands in his and they headed towards the hostess.

"Welcome sir and ma'am. Do you have a reservation?" The hostess asked.

"Yeah... Please check under the name Ramsey."

The hostess checked the log book for a long time. Ethan started sweating. What was taking her so long?

"I am afraid but, there is no reservation under that name sir." The hostess replied timidly, after Ethan's cool eyes landed on her.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"Hundred percent sir."

"But it does not make sense...I called two months before to get a reservation... Do you have any empty tables?" Ethan said, pinched the bridge of his nose, slowly getting frustrated.

"Sorry sir but... All the tables are occupied."

Goddammit Ethan!! You had one fucking job.

He led Leah back to the valet and ran a hand through his hair. "I am so sorry sunshine. I just wanted this evening to go perfect and I had to go fu-"

Leah put a finger on his lips. "No. You haven't fucked anything up. It's the gestures that counts. Also, the night is young."

"But you heard the hostess-"

"Well, I have some ideas on how we can spend our anniversary." Ethan just gave her a quizzical look. She took the car keys from the valet and turned towards Ethan and winked. "Get in the car Ramsey. Get ready for the best night of your life."

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"So your 'best night' includes shopping at Target??" Ethan asked amusement sparkling in his ocean blue eyes.

"Shut up. Where we are going, we need a little more casual clothing."

"But I like your gown. It helps me slip my hand-"

"Shh Ethan!! We are in public. Keep it PG 13 for now." Leah said, as she blushed red. Ethan just laughed, enjoying teasing her.

Leah proceeded to pay for the clothes and pushed Ethan into the changing room with his set of clothes. Ethan simply obliged because by the look of the determined glint in her eyes, he didn't want to be trampled by a woman on a mission.

The dark jeans fit him perfectly and the grey V-neck fit him snugly. He was wearing his slip ons when Leah came out of the dressing room, smoothening her outfit.

She was wearing a black tank top which she tucked into a baby pink skater skirt. On top of the tank top, she had slipped on a denim jacket. "How do I look babe?" She asked as she observed herself in the mirror.

"You know that even if you wore a potato sack, you would still be the prettiest woman I have ever laid my eyes on, right?" Ethan said earnestly.

She gave a soft smile and kissed his bearded cheek. She plopped down next to him and slipped on her white converse hightops.

"Seriously sunshine? Converse again? You literally have so many at home."

"Well I don't have this style. And you know what they say, 'once a converse girls, always a converse girl'." She said as she brushed him off.

"Sunshine.... literally no one says that."

"It's all in the details, E. C'mon let's go."

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After a half an hour drive, Leah pulled into the make shift parking lot near the docks. They got out and Ethan let out an appreciative whistle. "Wow."

Leah had brought them to the annual fair, where there were tonnes of food stalls and gaming places. The entire place had been decorated with LED lights that were illuminating the Boston night sky. The Ferris wheel stood tall and proud, moving at a gentle pace. The place was littered with a number of game stalls like 'shoot the bottle' and 'ring toss' where people competed to get a prize. Fairy lights hung from the trees around there and a number of people were sitting under them, laughing, eating and drinking cheap beer.

On the other end there were a number of food stalls open, which were being catered by the numerous food joints in the city. The crowd near the ice cream vendors and the cotton candy vendors were unreal.

"Oh. My. God. Ethan they have go karting as well!!" Leah exclaimed grabbing Ethan's arm and pointing towards the make shift track. The karts had designs in various neon colors and the entire track had been painted with glow in the dark paint.

Leah continued to point at the different places and stalls, talking excitedly, but Ethan's eyes stayed glued to Leah's face with a small smile. The child like wonder in her brown eyes made Ethan melt. Her voluminous dark hair blew with the wind, caressing Ethan's face. The way the neon lights reflected on her caramel skin, the way there was an pearly smile on her face and the way she clutched Ethan's arm made his heart do somersaults.

"Are you even paying attention?" Leah asked, breaking Ethan from his reverie.

"Sorry, I didn't get the last part. Was blow away by how beautiful the view is."

Leah rolled her eyes and smacked Ethan's arm. But there was a small smile on her face.

"Let's go to the go karting place."

"Oh yes. Can't wait to see you behind in the dust." Ethan said with a teasing smile.

"Oh honey. I can't wait to see your face after I defeat you. If you think I am going to go easy on you just because I love you, you are very very wrong." Leah said with a coy smile.

"Oh you are so on. Winner can ask the loser anything and buys snacks."

"Let's do this." Leah said as she cracked her knuckles.

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"So...what do I ask you?" Leah questioned herself, with her fingers tapping against her chin. She had won hands down. She got a tacky medal which she decided to wear for the rest of the evening. She just continued to wear a smug smile on her face, so that she could annoy Ethan.

"Please, just get it over with." Ethan groaned as he munched on the caramel popcorn.

"Hmmm.... Which is your favourite place to kiss me?"

"Hmmm..that's a tough question.. see, my favourite place is your pussy but I think your neck would be my favourite place to kiss." Ethan mused.

"Why?" Leah asked as she took a bite of bite of the cotton candy, letting it dissolve on her tongue.

"There are three reasons- One, the moment I kiss your neck, you have that wanton and 'fuck me' expression which drives me crazy. Secondly, the moans you let out are....oh Lord. Just thinking about them gives me a bad case of blue balls. And lastly, you become so wet and ready for me... It makes the experience much more memorable." He said nonchalantly as he continued to munch on the popcorn, seeing Leah's reaction from the corner of his eyes.

Leah was blushing wildly. Ethan may come across as a gentleman but his dirty talk made her knees weak like jello. He could speak things that would make a priest blush. "That's not true." Leah weakly objected as she stuffed her face with cotton candy.

"Oh really? So if I do this.." Ethan reached to place a hot, wet kiss on the spot below her ear. Leah's mouth opened slightly at the intense feeling. Her body flushed wildly. Her toes curled as Ethan continued to lick and suck. She felt herself getting wetter and wetter when his teeth sank into the tender spot on her neck. After what seemed like eternity, he pecked it and moved back to admire his handiwork. "....it won't do anything?" He asked in a husky voice.

Leah didn't dare to look at him because she knew that if she would, her face would betray everything. Also she didn't want to see the shit eating grin on his face.

"Shut up." Leah grumbled as she tore and ate her cotton candy more aggressively.

"But I didn't say anything!"

"I know what you are thinking so shush."

Ethan laughed a deep laugh, his dimples on display as he wrapped his hand around her waist. "It's okay sunshine. You can tie me up and have your way later." He said as he kissed her crown.

"Oh look, there is a shooting booth." Leah said, changing the topic before her mind could go into full fantasy mood of Ethan being below her, moaning her name as she rode him six ways to Sunday.

They reached the stall which was decorated in a western country style. "Howdy! Wanna shoot somethings?"

"I'm a healer but.." Leah picked up the shotgun and loaded it while Ethan rolled his eyes. He will never understand her obsession with anime.

"Shoot all the balloons on that board and then you can choose what prize you want." The guy with the handlebar moustache said.

With quick precision, she shot all the balloons in a matter of seconds. She then twirled the gun around her finger and blew the smoke away. "And that's, how you do it in the wild wild west." She said in a smoldering voice.

Ethan and the gamekeeper had their jaws on the floor.

Could she get any more attractive? Ethan asked himself.

"Damn girl.." the old guy with the funny moustache spoke.

Leah gave out a short laugh. "If you don't mind, can I get those rose tinted glasses?" She pointed to a pair of cat eye sunglasses.

"Sure girlie."

After wearing them she grabbed Ethan and walked hand in hand towards the next booth. "Sunshine, what is the point of these glasses if they can't even cover your eyes?"

"These are stylish and I can wear them when I am going out."

"I don't think I can ever understand your sense of fashion."

"Uh duh!! You guys can't even distinguish between 'peacock blue' and 'turquoise' colour."

"Is there even a difference between them?" Ethan asked incredulously.

"A fine example right here."

Ethan lightly shoved her but Leah just held onto their intertwined fingers. She pulled him to her, went on the tip of her toes and kissed him. Ethan cupped her cheek and kissed her slowly and tenderly. The sounds of people talking, the mainstream pop music playing through speakers, everything disappeared as they kissed each other under the neon lights.

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"Oh god...I am so full!" Leah groaned she leaned back on her hands. They were sitting under a secluded tree, with golden fairy lights hanging off them.

"Sunshine, I think you will have to roll me out of here." Ethan groaned as his hands caressed her bare thighs, which she had thrown over his lap. He picked up their popsicle sticks, and threw them in a perfect arc, into the nearby dustbin.

"I can't roll out a 6 feet something skyscraper on my own. I would die."

"Sucks to be short." Ethan stuck his tongue out.

"Hey your tongue is blue!!" Leah exclaimed.

"And your is red from the strawberry flavour." He observed.

"Wanna make purple?" Leah asked slyly, waggling her eyebrows.

Ethan guffawed at the expression and soon she also joined in his laughter. She clutched her stomach. "Oww....shouldn't try to laugh too much. Gosh, I shouldn't have taken that second helping of Quesadillas."

"C'mon let's take you home." Ethan stood up and grabbed Leah's hand so that he could pull her up to stand. She dusted her skirt and then intertwined their fingers. She leaned against him, as they headed towards the exit.

"Sunshine?"

"Hmm?"

"I had a lot of fun today. Thank you."

"You can thank me in different ways later." Leah said, as her brown eyes darked with desire.

Ethan just smirked and squeezed her to his side.

"That's a promise baby."

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The moment they entered Ethan's penthouse, Ethan pressed Leah against the door. Leah's let out a sharp breath and she looked up at the stormy blue eyes. She could see the desire and the lust swimming in those blues of his and she could also feel the desire in her, ignite like a slow fire.

Ethan cupped her cheek and pulled her in for a heated kiss. She went on her tiptoes to meet him half way. With their lips locked in a passionate embrace, she still felt that he was too far away. So, she hooked her fingers on the belt loops and tugged him closer to her.

Getting the memo, he moved closer until they was no space between them except their clothes. Ethan reached to take her jacket off, which he threw across the room. The need to get her naked, writhing and moaning under him, was becoming overwhelming.

She took out Ethan's shirt and moaned when she felt his warm skin on hers. She wrapped her arm around his neck while she laid her other hand on his bare chest. Her dainty fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. They caressed his chest, his back, his abs and were about to go lower, to his happy trail when he growled and caught them.

He grabbed her thighs and lifted her so that her legs were around his waist. He took her hands and pinned them against the door. The kiss was a fight for dominance, where nobody seemed to be a clear winner. Leah slipped her tongue into his mouth and he groaned appreciatively.

He tastes like ambrosia, sweet nectar and all the good things in life. Leah knew that she could never ever get over the way he tasted.

Ethan lifted her with ease and led her to the first surface he found, the dining table. He moved his hands under her tank top and groaned when he found out she wasn't wearing a bra.

"God Leah, you know how much control it takes to be around you? That when you pull such stunts on me, I just want to bend you over and fuck you on the first surface I find?"

"So what's stopping you?" Leah asked. She pulled him in for another searing kiss.

"After I am done with you...you won't be able to walk for a week." He spoke in a husky voice, filled with need. He took of her tank top and growled appreciatively at the sight of her breasts.

Leah smiled coyly. "Don't make promises you can't keep Ramsey." Ethan just narrowed his eyes and kissed her with so much force, that it made her gasp. His hands reached for her ass and squeezed it.

He then descended on her neck kissing and licking the small droplets of sweat accumulated on her neck. He slowly grinding against her heat, making her aware of how badly he needed her. His hands went from her ass to her breasts. He massaged it before pinching the nipples. Leah yelped. Ethan did not once show her mercy, as he stimulated each sensitive spot on her body. Leah felt as if her nerves were on fire.

He slowly made his way down south, leaving fiery hot kisses on her body. Not having any patience left, he just lifted her skirt up and quickly slid her panties out. Seeing her exposed pussy just made his jeans tighter around his growing erection. He blew air on her wet cunt, leaving goosebumps on their wake. "What are you doing?" Leah asked breathlessly. She was finding it hard to keep her eyes open due to the desire coursing through her veins.

"What we do on a table Sunshine.... Eat." His dark blue eyes met her brown ones and he licked her dripping slit, slowly. Leah thought she was going to loose it at that very instant.

He gripped her thighs and threw them over his broad shoulders and proceeded to eat her out, properly . He swirled his tongue on the sensitive bud of nerves and then went on to stick his tongue into her wet pussy.

He let out a moan, which resonated deep in her core.

He never once slowed his pace. He continued to lap up all the moisture. He alternated between her clit and her cunt. As he pushed his fingers in her, and fucked her, Leah climbed higher and higher. Her stomach started to tighten, with the need to release.

"Oh god...I am gonna come..."

Ethan stopped his hand movements and rose to his full height. Leah's eyes snapped open and she glared at him.

"Fuck you Ethan!! Who the hell gave you the fucking righ- ohhhh."

He shoved his dick slowly into her, enjoying the way her walls clenched around him. They fit each other perfectly. Like two jigsaw puzzles. You couldn't differentiate, where he ended and where she started.

This..this was heaven.

He slowly moved, in and out. But Leah wasn't having it.

"Ethan, I want you to fuck me."

"Are you sure you can handle it sunshine?"

"I ain't no weak bit-" Leah couldn't complete her sentence because at that moment he snapped his hips and started fuking her. He held her hips with one hand for leverage and his other hand gently squeezed her throat, feeling her rapid pulse under his hand.

He did not let go of the punishing rhythm he had set. He moved his hips in such a way that he hit her on that spot which made Leah see stars. It was quite a view for Ethan. The moonlight streaming through the glass facade and illuminating her sheen skin. Her eyes half closed, her breasts moving with every stroke and her legs wound around his hips.

"Please, please, please let me come." Leah choked.

Ethan also felt a tingle in his lower back and his abs constructing. He was close too. His strokes became faster and shorter.

"Okay sunshine. Come."

Just that one word and Leah obeyed. She felt a burst of pleasure rush through her body, setting every part of her alight. She saw fireworks behind her eyelids. She hadn't even come down when, Ethan's release caused her to have another mini orgasm.

It was too much. Way too much. Aftershocks racked her body and tears streamed down her face as she soared through cloud nine.

Without pulling himself out, he gathered Leah in his arms and took her to the bedroom. He gently laid her down on the bed and pulled out and headed to the bathroom to get a washcloth. Leah winced and felt empty like a crater.

Ooooh boy, gonna feel that tomorrow.

Her eyes were closed as she tried to catch her breath and get her head straight. Ethan slowly wiped her neck, her stomach and her sore centre, instantly cooling her body down. He threw the washcloth into the laundry basket and slid into his bed. He wrapped his strong arms around Leah and pulled her close to him. He bent down to kiss her lips tenderly.

"I love you sunshine."

"Happy six months, babe. I love you." She gave a tired smile and they both slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Wow that was the longest I have written. *wipes brow*

Like, reblog and let me know how you liked it :))

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