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frostironfudge · 1 year

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Silhouettes In the Spotlight - Bucky Barnes - Nine

Summary: Bucky Barnes has worked immensely hard to have a filmography expanding across genres and garnering accolades from critics, peers and fans. Y/N Y/L/N, with her debut novel (fan-fiction turned New York Times Bestseller) has two other best sellers under her belt. Next is her highly anticipated fourth book lined up for release. SHEILD Productions has acquired the film rights to her debut novel and they want Bucky Barnes to play the lead (aka himself) by any means necessary. This story is about angst, lust, heartbreak, and love. After all fairytales only exist in books and movies right?

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, making out, angst, steve is well steve, jealous bucky, fake PR relationship mentioned, dolores is a bitch, secondary character death, allusions to a funeral, alot of emotional reactions, allusions to previous abuse tolerated by reader (not explicitly described)

Pairing: Actor!Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 8k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || AO3

Chapter Eight|| Chapter Ten

HEADLINES:

SHIELD Issues Statement to Delay Shooting Commencement At Backlash Received In View of Y/L/N Family Tragedy.

Dolores Busy Spotted Partying As Rest Of The Cast Comes Out In Support Of Author Y/N.

Steve Rogers Releases Statement That Picture Was Leaked From Set And Is Launching An Enquiry Into Who Is Responsible.

Y/L/N Family Requests Privacy At This Time.

You’re watching as they escort him into the emergency room. Your mother grasps at your arm from her wheelchair stopping you from following behind the two way doors that shut with a soft hiss of the hydraulic. From the glass window you see people in scrubs running around. Muffled shouting and orders are yelled, trays wheeled about.

Your phone vibrating in your hands, you look down the screen blurred. You blink it doesn’t clear.

Someone stands in front of you, you look up, then to your mother, she is already crying. You try to make sense of the words above the piercing ring in your ears. The woman’s words are muffled, her hands rest on your shoulder.

“Breathe.” She urges. You inhale, exhale.

“Breathe.” She requests again.

You follow.

“Breathe.” She turns when a team member calls her back, the doctor leaves you, you look down at your mom.

“I don’t, I don’t think he’s going to make it.” She muffles a sob against her cardigan.

“He, he will, Dad can’t leave us.” You bend down, to grasp at her free hand, the phone won’t stop vibrating.

Yelena Calling.

You pick up the phone to your ear,

“I just saw your message, I am on my way. How is he doing? Is your mother okay? Foggy is handling this so I know it won’t leak, have you told anyone else?” You can hear the click of her heels through the silent office, her steps frantic.

“She’s crying, Lena, it looks b-bad, I texted, I texted James as well, I didn’t, I didn’t know who else to, Loki’s flown out, Ace is travelling, I don’t, I don’t have anyone apart from you all—,” your resolve breaks, you can’t be bothered to take care of anything. You just want to hide.

You want to be the little girl who had both her parents strong, healthy and happy. Keeping her safe.

“It’s okay, I’m telling Sam to keep a lockdown okay? You be there for your parents, I will reach in a few. It’ll be alright.” Yelena assures.

Your sob breaks free yet again, you tuck the phone away.

You kneel, resting your head against your mother’s knees uncaring if you’re on the floor. Her hand stays upon your head trying to console you as she herself is inconsolable.

You clutch at her blanket, praying, hoping your father makes it, as horrible as everything had gotten you needed him, he is your dad. You wanted him to live, maybe get a second chance at being a better family.

You don’t know how much longer you kneel, your limbs numb, knees burning in pain. Your mother’s head tilts side to side as her fatigue overcomes her making her succumb to slumber. You reach, placing the neck pillow around her and remain kneeling resting your head against her thigh.

The harsh light of the hospital dwindles and then it is blocked. You look up, blinking to clear your eyes.

Soft azure fills your vision. Bucky kneels, warm hand cupping your cheek, his face hidden behind a mask, hair hidden by a snapback.

Fresh tears spring to life, you gently move away from your mother into the safety of his arms. Bucky wraps his arms around your frame, tucking your head under his chin.

“I’ve got you, I’m here, I’ve got you.” He whispers, his hand moving over your head. You close your eyes, pressing your face against his chest. Your tears stain his hoodie. You cling onto him for dear life.

“I’ve got you, Feather. I’m here to take care of you.” He assures, letting you hold onto him, and cry.

“Will he be okay?” You ask Bucky as if he knows the answer.

“I’m hoping he makes it through without too many complications.” He answers, unable to fathom the state of your heart right now.

Your sobs turn into soft sniffles. Bucky’s hand keeps rubbing over your back.

Yelena and Sam enter, their pace frantic. Their steps falter when they see the two of you in an embrace on the floor.

“I’ll get bottles of water for everyone.” Sam whispers to her. She nods.

Yelena walks over her eyes, moves to your mom, then to the two of you. Bucky meets her gaze.

Her gaze then falls to you.

“Feather, come on, let's sit down okay? You’ve been kneeling for quite a while.” He murmurs, you shake your head, “Okay, how about I move you alright?” His left arm moves at the back of your thighs, he allows your head to remain against his chest, you’re now placed perpendicular to him, his arm hooked under your knees, the blood rushes feeling like tiny ants crawling across your skin.

In one swoop, you’re sitting across his lap, he brings his arms back to wrap around you.

“Yelena is here and so is Sam,” He whispers, you look up at him.

“Hi.” Yelena speaks softly, “Sam’s getting some water for you and your mom, okay?”

You nod, “Thank you.”

“Don’t have to say that, we’re here for you.” She grasps the hand you reach out towards her.

Sam returns, then handing everyone a bottle he keeps holding the one for your mom.

Bucky’s palm rubs up and down your back. Unwavering. You let yourself be held by him.

“How did you get here so quickly?” Sam questions raising a brow.

“Hayden drove like a maniac when I told him.” Bucky answers.

“You should give him a raise.” Sam tries to coax a smile from you to no avail.

You feel familiar lips on your forehead, Bucky smiles down at you, his mask hanging from one ear.

You tilt your head back, reaching up, brushing your lips against his cheek.

It had been a week since Bucky and you confessed your feelings. A week of feeling everything would go right, despite everything going on.

Then it came crashing down with the call and the background sirens.

A week Ago.

—<>—

Bucky’s arms wrap around your waist, your hands move over his as he hugs you from behind. Chest to your back. His smile isn’t contained. Yours isn’t either.

Rain pours against the window. Thunder rumbles, your grip on his hands tighten, Bucky brushes his lips over your temple.

“I see what you mean about the first rain, doll.” He murmurs.

“Told you.” You chuckle.

“You did, seeing it with you, however, is—,”

“Ugh this again? Can’t you people ever fucking wait?” Dolores cuts him off.

“Cut!” Natasha calls out rolling her eyes, Bucky shifts away from you, his hand lingers for a few more seconds before parting from your own.

You begin moving away.

“I don’t understand why you use her to set up the scenes?” Dolores grumbles.

“Because she wrote the book that was the basis of this movie.” Steve snaps at her.

“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes.

“And she reaches at the call time.” Natasha adds. Bucky subdues his chuckle.

Steve smiles brightly as you make your way to him.

“Hi Steve.” You greet, still riding on the high of yesterday’s kiss with Bucky and the whispered confession.

“You’re in a good mood.” He observes.

“Yeah, I am.” You turn, Bucky catches your gaze and winks. Your cheeks heat.

“Alright positions!” Natasha calls out.

“Lights! Camera—,”

There is a phone that rings with a shrill tone. Everyone looks around.

Dolores answers her phone, chirping away excitedly and walking off set.

“Motherfucker.” Natasha completes adding a few Russian expletives.

“Pietro, is the set ready for the scene with Beckham, Doll and Rhys?” She rubs her temples.

“Yeah we have the rooms ready for the breakfast date turning into the introduction of Beckham.” He answers.

“Set change!” She declares. Heading over to Maria.

“I know, but there is nothing we can do.” She sighs as well, tired of the nonsense.

“We can, I showed you and Nick, you both have seen it with your own eyes.”

“Guess I’ll have the set up scene with you finally.” Steve chuckles, having you tune out from Nat and Maria’s conversation.

“I feel I should be setting up all the scenes at this point.” You shake your head.

“You should be.” Bucky answers joining them.

“Barnes.”

“Rogers.”

“Y/L/N.”

The two of them look at you. You shrug then chuckle. Bucky laughs.

“I’m liking this good mood of yours makes me happy.” Steve seems happy as well.

“Maybe because you had the decency to redact the image?” Bucky raises his eyebrow.

“Hey, Y/N?” Sharon waves her hand.

“Yeah?” You turn to her.

“It’s Alexander on call.” She gestures to the phone.

“Oh, yeah, um excuse me.” You move from the bickering men, drawing in a deep breath.

Steve and Bucky watch you go to the corner. Bucky finds worry gnawing at his chest. He knew you were stressed over the leaks occurring.

“Why did it piss you off? The picture?” The blonde chuckles.

“Why would it piss me off?”

“Oh you know maybe you’re jealous, that I have her and you don’t.”

Bucky scoffs, “You wish you had her.”

“Maybe I will, you can keep pining.” Steve pushes at his chest.

“Don’t.” Bucky warns.

“Or what?”

“You won’t just get punched in the movie.”

“Are the two of you done?” Natasha interrupts and they step back.

“Go take your positions. Steve, we're recording you entering the apartment fully, then just positioning with Y/N. Till Dolores returns.” She explains as they begin moving to the new set.

You glance up as Steve and Bucky both signal they were shifting sets. You nod.

“Sweetheart, do you understand?” Alexander questions.

“I do, I don’t understand why they would do that… leaking the author's hard-work..” you trail off.

“It's to drive their prices, because your works are that in demand.” He sighs, you swallow.

“I’ve called the other authors as well, I think a meeting should suffice. I’ll have the details emailed to you.”

“Okay, I’ll be there.”

“Thank you dear, your work and contributions will help strengthen SHIELD and especially Hydra—I mean Hydrangeas.” He laughs.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Alexander, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Alexander.”

“Good, can you pass the phone back to Sharon? I want to speak to Dolores.”

You hand the phone and move towards the second set.

A trailer door opens, you read Loki’s name on the door.

“Oh hey, listen, can you see this thing I have inside?” Loki smiles at you.

“Um?” You tilt your head.

“It's a complicated book. I want your opinion.” He says urging you inside.

“Um sure,” you take the steps up, he shuts the door behind you, “Loki—, James?” You find him grinning sitting on the small sofa.

“I’m borrowing it while Steve films, and Loki and Ace film.” He opens his arm, the bionic one taken off for filming.

You move over to him, “So we’re sneaking around?”

“Unfortunately.” He frowns, you sit next to him, his arm wraps around you.

“I know we discussed it yesterday. I just…” you shift closer, resting your head on his chest.

“I know you’re worried, I know it isn’t ideal. I want nothing more than to be with you in everyone’s eyes.” He rests his cheek on your head.

“Is it this hard? Watching this unfold? Seeing who you’re with, being with someone else even when you know it isn’t real?” Your question has him draw a deep breath.

“It does, I won’t lie, but reminding yourself that it is just another acting job helps sometimes.” He says, lips pressing to your forehead, “What did Alexander say?”

“He wants dinner with all the authors and Hydrangeas’ heads, he says they’ve been leaking the work.” You explain, looking up at him.

Bucky ponders not trusting Alexander, “Promise me you will be careful?”

You nod, “I will, I wish you could be there.”

“I wish I was, Feather.” He gives a sad smile.

You nod, solemn. Then you notice the popcorn and laptop, “What is all this?”

“I thought we could watch some book to tv or movie adaptations.” He grins when you smile.

“Is Gossip Girl on the list?” You tease.

“I still don’t understand why Rhys’ surname is not Baizen.” He grumbles.

“I had a thing for Mr. Chuck Bass.” You tease, he narrows his eyes.

“Please you had to have been a Baizen girl.” He leans back observing you.

Your cheeks heat, “I did think he was the ‘oh rejecting the money and wants to do good’, then he turned out to be a con but then he helped Serena but he had certain selfish connotations. Who doesn’t? Although I did admire Blair and him. He had a thing for being a sorta fucked up knight in shining armour. Plus when he pissed off Chuck it was fun to watch.” You have that little smile on your face.

Bucky grins, “Morally grey?” Oh now he’s beaming because he has you caught.

“James.” You hide your face against his chest.

“I knew it, call Nat we have to change it to Rhys Baizen.” He urges, you laugh, swatting his chest with the back of your hand lightly.

“I also have travel scrabble.” He offers, gesturing to the round box.

You reach over to grab it. When you turn back his face is inches from yours.

Your mind going back to the moments like these, Bucky leans in closer.

“Don’t have to hold back.” He murmurs, your perfume pulling him in closer.

“Don’t want to,” you swallow, brushing your lips against his, his palm cups your cheek.

His lips press to yours, the scrabble tin falls to the floor as you shift onto his lap, knees either side of his legs. Bucky’s hand moves to your back supporting you. His lips move in a slow languid pace, learning, memorising your lips, your taste, the way you feel.

His breath doesn’t hitch when your hands are placed on his shoulders. His tongue moves over your bottom lip, palm moving up your back, your hand moves to his neck then cradling his face as your lips part.

Bucky hums in delight, the rumble in his chest against yours, your right hand moves from his left shoulder to his hair, tugging on it, the sound it elicits from him sends shivers through you.

Your lips part, his forehead rests against yours, a smile on his features, his skin tinged red.

“I regret not kissing you that first night in the elevator, at Winnie’s.” He admits, a laugh escapes your lips.

“Maybe, we could go again?” You wonder, your thumb brushes over his jaw, his stubble grown more you knew he would have to trim it soon.

“You want to go on a date with me little miss writer?” His grin is wolfish. You bite your bottom lip.

“I do little mister actor.” You laugh when he presses his lips softly to yours and grins.

“Tomorrow then, I’ll pick you up, at six.” He decides, you nod.

“Okay.” You agree, your face breaking into a grin.

Bucky smiles when you lean over to retrieve travel scrabble. He finds your warmth against him something he craved and finally felt satiety but not completely. He doesn’t think he can get enough of you.

Enough of your laugh, your jokes, the way your nose scrunches in ten different ways that indicate your reaction. They way you aren’t afraid to call him out. The way you feel in his arms. The way you belong in his arms.

“Think you can beat me, Barnes?” You wiggle your brows.

“Set it up, I can beat you with one hand, Feather.” Then he laughs.

“James—,” you begin, he nuzzles against the crook of your neck, nipping at a spot he knows brings forth laughter.

—<>—

Hayden gives you a beaming smile as he opens the door for you, Bucky offers you his left hand. Hayden’s eyes shift to Bucky, the happiness only increases seeing his boss happy.

The hostess greets the two of you at the elevator, Bucky’s hand is in yours, he raises it to his lips as you both walk into the elevator. It opens to the upper floor.

The homey feel of Winnie’s is ever present despite the plush interiors. Bucky guides you to the table as before, pulling out your chair for you.

The sunset still a few minutes away but the view still is breathtaking. The server places your drinks.

“Why did you chose to show me the sunset?” You ask. His cheeks tinge red.

“Well after I read your book, I ordered for the others. In your third you’ve depicted a sunrise vividly. I thought it was only fair to show you a sunset of equal if not more beauty.” He admits.

You smile, “I haven’t seen a sunrise as that yet, I do imagine it exists.”

“Well I’ll find it for you.” He promises, you laugh.

“James, you don’t have to, I’m happy you shared the sunset.” Your hand reaches out to touch his, he brings his right hand’s index finger to trace the edge of your own. He traces the lines of the white ink tattoo.

“I’ll find it for you.” He promises more to himself than you.

You lean closer, pressing your lips to his cheek.

He smiles, then both of you turn your gaze to the changing hues from orange to violet.

—<>—

Steve watches as you disappear, then Bucky disappears. His jaw clenches. The remainder of the cast and crew remain oblivious but when you’re focused on someone you notice patterns and actions others don’t, he moves through the set, heading for the trailers.

It’s not that he wants to pursue a relationship with you, you’re about seven years younger than him, Bucky and he have a two year difference. Yet Valarie suggested it would do good for him to date someone normal-ish.

Show that he’s grounded and not only into models, or actresses. If you’re parading around with Bucky then that makes his story difficult. You’re making life difficult for Steve.

He hears laughter from between the trailers.

“James, someone could see—,” you’re cut off.

Steve can hear the sound of kissing and laughter, he peeks out from his hiding spot, sure enough, Bucky has you against the trailer door, he’s smiling happily in between the kisses being shared.

Steve grits his teeth, something ripples through his chest. It grows in depth when your eyes open and you look into blue eyes with affection that isn’t his to keep.

“No one will see.” Bucky assures you, his thumb brushing your cheek.

Steve moves away, returning to set.

When Bucky and you return minutes apart no one questions it, you walk up to Steve after Natasha tells you to run lines with him since Dolores went for a power nap.

The ire he harbours fades when you reward him with a smile.

“Running lines with you again, Steve.” You open the iPad.

“I think you should just take the role.” He jokes, you give him an incredulous look.

Your phone buzzes before you can provide a quip, Bucky sends you a picture from weeks before, it is the polaroid he tucked away before Loki or you could see.

Steve busies himself with reading the script.

Loki and you were looking into the polaroid camera but Bucky’s gaze is on you the smile he gives only to you is etched on his face.

You find his gaze from across the set, he gives you the same smile. Your own grin breaks free.

—<>—

Loki and Ace were in on it. They knew and Sam and Yelena did, you had a hunch Natasha knew. The two of you rotated between three trailers for your secret moments on set.

Ace was ecstatic, happiness pouring from every pore of theirs for the two of you. Loki warned Bucky not to fuck up, he was on your side.

Ace chuckled when you weren’t able to focus on your lines because Bucky was shirtless. The two of you had kept the making out to base two, clothes on. Agreeing that only when publicly you could be out and about should the physical relationship progress.

Bucky feared you might leave before it could, he worried the PR would drive you away. You were afraid he may realise its too much work sneaking around.

The scene was his trial for the arm that went awry, he was shirtless, your eyes couldn’t stop roaming over his frame. He was nervous to be this open on set, though in the weeks he had regained his muscle mass. Bucky couldn’t look at his own body more than a few minutes.

He confided in you about his dysmorphia, your eyes bringing forth tears of moments you knew intimately. Your hands set forth on a mission then, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, Bucky kept his eyes on you, as you traced the freckles on his skin. Creating your own constellations for him.

That night he wasn’t harsh on his body, he wasn’t critical, he could simply be without his mind overtaking and toying with his perception.

Bucky catches your gaze and winks at you, cheeks burning when you turned around you didn’t expect Tony Stark to be grinning at you.

“I,” Your words die on your tongue.

“You absolute writing genius.” He praises.

“Oh my god.” You manage to get out.

“Here I thought only someone could have that effect on you.” Ace whispers.

“I do tend to be compared to God.” He chuckles.

“Wait so you, you’re playing—,”

“Yes, I am.” Tony grins, “Even got my godson Peter to play Peter. We love the story by the way.”

“Thank you.” Your voice is thick with emotion, the actors walk over, greeting Tony and Peter a lot of their work over lapping or meeting through mutual connections.

Natasha grins at you, “Told you you would love the surprise today.”

“How did you or SHEILD manage this? I thought he said no?” You’re watching Tony interact with Bucky cracking jokes and patting his back.

“Oh I didn’t, Barnes did, when I met with him to discuss Rhys one on one he enquired who would be playing his boss originally envisioned as Tony Stark. I told him you were hopeful Tony would say yes, but then disappointed when SHEILD couldn’t land him. After that conversation within a week I get a call from Tony saying he’d only do it if he could have Peter be Peter and Tony be Tony.” Nat smiles, your gaze shifts from her to Bucky.

“So since about more than three months he did this all for you.” She pats your arm.

You swallow the lump in your throat, bringing out your phone you text him.

Y/N🪶: Thank you, Natasha told me.

Bucky looks down at his phone a huge grin on his face, he finds your eyes. You’re smiling wide.

James📚: Just keep that smile on your face. Makes me happy.

That day post the shoot, you request Sam and Yelena to somehow help you get into his car. So he holds Bucky back, delaying him with contract nonsense while Yelena has you get into the car as Hayden gives you a grin.

“Hi Hayden.” You greet, hands fiddling nervously.

“Hello Miss Y/L/N.” He meets your gaze through the rearview mirror.

“Hayden, please use my first name?” You request he only chuckles lightly.

“He’s approaching.” He says, you sit back.

Sam keeps talking to Bucky so he doesn’t look your way when he settles into the car.

“Sam, come on I’m tired and I just want to go home and video call my girl okay?” Bucky’s exhale is audible in his tiredness. You begin to question your plan altogether.

“Man, if you’re tired how are you going to enjoy the drive back home?” Sam has a shit-eating grin on his face as Bucky’s brows furrow.

“What?”

“You don’t need to video call your girl.” His manager shuts the door, Bucky’s gaze shifts to you while he’s shaking his head in confusion.

“If you’re tired I can—,” your thought isn’t completed Bucky presses his lips to yours, a satisfied rumble in his chest when your arms wrap around him as well. Hayden raises the partition.

When he pulls away he immediately pulls you across his lap, his face buried against your chest, your fingers run through his hair, softly scratching at his scalp, his shoulders relax under your ministrations.

“Sneak into the drive home everyday?” He says, voice muffled against your chest. You smile.

“I could do that, yeah.” You agree, he hums content.

Hayden navigates out of the studio space, Bucky holds onto you. When he looks up at you you smile down at him.

Lips brushing over his tired eyes, cheek and his forehead.

His palms find their way under your shirt, the warmth and cool sensations both evoking goosebumps. His thumb brushes over your skin.

The raised flesh making him hum in delight. He smiles realising the effect he too has upon you. The way you have him responsive to everything you do.

—<>—

“Where is Y/N? Also where in the world is Barnes?” Nick’s gaze roams over the set an impromptu meeting was called. Loki was tapping away hurriedly on his phone to reach out to the group chat formulated.

Ace bites their bottom lip, everyone was hear even Dolores, since she decided to walk in on set.

Steve is grinning smugly at the back, you’d be caught any second. Any moment now. Bucky walks in on set looking put together not a hair out of place.

“I met Y/N on the way here, she got a call from the home nurse, her mom isn’t feeling too well and father is unreachable.” He shares, “she apologises but she had to rush home.”

Nick nods, looking over at Maria.

Steve looks into his own phone, sure enough seven minutes ago the nurse sent him the same update that had you rushing back home.

Bucky stands next to him, “Will you be visiting her today?”

“My scenes get done earlier so I intend to, why?” Steve tucks his phone back.

Bucky knew Steve still visited you, he had not yet come over since last time because of the sole reason of Steve.

Today however he decided he would, you were so worried and scared when you left, it left a sour taste in his mouth when he knew he would have to speak to Steve about this.

“Make sure she’s fine, her dad is… for lack of a better word an absolute fucking asshole.” Bucky’s jaw clenches.

“I know I’ve heard his crap through the walls, can’t understand why won’t she leave, she has the means now.” Steve grumbles, wishing you’d remove yourself from a shitty place like that.

“It took you a long time as well.” The brunette’s gaze softens, recollection of Steve’s own burdens clear despite the years gone by

“You had helped.” The blonde haired man admits reluctant, “You even punched him once.” Steve laughs.

“That landed you in trouble.” Bucky chuckles.

“It helped me move away, think I should punch him?” He enquires, it almost, almost felt as if the animosity was gone.

“To keep her mom and her safe? Throw a punch from me too, or call me, I’ll give one or two myself.” Bucky looks back as Nick claps to get everyone’s attention.

———<>

Steve leaves from your home at close to ten, your mom asleep and you looked as if you would pass out any second. He offered to stay but knew he was pushing it.

When he hugged you goodbye you didn’t tense up, you simply just allowed yourself to be comforted. Steve’s lips pressed to your head.

“It’ll be okay.” He assures, the garage door opens, your father’s car speeds out, gone for the night again.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

Steve shrugs, “I just told him to shut up, someone had to, good it came from me.”

You chuckle when he pulls away from the hug and cups your face. Gazing into your eyes, his thumbs brush over your cheekbones.

“I’ll have those other pictures taken down okay?” He speaks, knowing Valentina will bite into his arm and make a fuss.

“Steve—,”

“I know you never liked the whole ordeal and just went along with it. You’re too nice for your own good, I don’t want Valentina to take advantage of you.” He cuts you off.

“It’s not that I don’t enjoy being speculated to be your boyfriend, I prefer it if it was true.” He gives a sheepish grin.

“Steve, I don’t reciprocate-,”

“I know, but I’m willing to wait if you do, hold your hand in public, kiss you whenever my heart desires or yours does, take you to MoMA to see Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Maybe find and empty wall and kiss you against it’ll be our own masterpiece.” The back of his knuckles brush over your jaw. He gives another smile, one bordering on sadness.

“Steve,” you grasp his hand when he leans in too close, you step back.

“Give it a thought.” He tucks his hands into his pockets. “I’ll see you on set the day after, m’eudail (my darling).”

Your brows furrow at the term.

“When you accept, I’ll tell you what it means.” He grins wearing his tinted glasses while walking to his car, a few stray camera flashes occur, he looks up from the driver’s side, his jaw clenched. Immediately taking out his phone as he turns the ignition on.

After ten minutes when Bucky knocks on your door, dressed in his hoodie, mask, snapback and glasses.

“Paps are gone.” He observes.

“Steve called Valentina I think.” You tell him, the second the door closes, he finds your lips with his, his hands move from your upper back downwards, over your hips.

The kiss is searing, Bucky knows his possessiveness is seeping through his action, your body moulds against his, he lowers his hands further, squeezing your cheeks.

The moan you sing against his mouth has him smirk, your fingers tug on his hair. The snapback falls, his hands move to the back of your thighs he taps upon the flesh, your hands move to his shoulders, bracing yourself.

“Got you, Feather.” He assures, you give a small jump, Bucky lifts you, your legs wrap around his waist. He turns and you’re pressed against the door.

His flesh hand reaches for your right, index finger tracing the tattoo, your foreheads touching, every-time he touches the tattoo you feel closer to him.

“I missed you.” He breathes.

“I missed you.” You smile as he peppers your face in kisses.

“Steve texted me.” He says, you lean away to look at him, “I knew he was going to visit, asked him to look out for you.”

“Oh, he, he did tell off my dad.” You tell him.

“Do you feel okay?” The tip of his nose traces your jaw.

“I do, I, Steve said something else too, I, told him no but I want you to know.” Your words have Bucky pause his affections.

“You can tell me.” He helps you get down, hands still holding yours as you lead him to the living room.

You recount everything, his gaze hardens turning cold.

“Do you think he knows?” He questions.

“If I have his attention then he might have put things together.” You put forth the theory.

Bucky hums, “Look you might be pushed for the PR too, or they might just leave it at speculation with whatever interactions they can spin with your pictures with him.”

“What if they want kissing and stuff, I’m not going to do that to you.” You press.

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek, “I feel guilty putting you through the whole thing with Dolores, you having to watch… While I can’t declare my affection for you.”

“Bucky, I know your hands are tied and its okay, well it’s not okay but, I know what I’m getting into, believe me I wish things were different.” You cup his face.

He sits in quiet contemplation, “I’m going to try to get out of the contract.”

“She’s going to throw a fit.”

“She’s got the benefits from my name.” He shrugs, “My obligation should be done.”

“James, you won’t do anything that will land you in trouble.” You warn.

“Why do you want to suffer? Watching me be with her when all I want to do is be with you?” He begs to know, not understanding.

You look away from him.

“I, I’ve never gotten anything without sacrifices or getting hurt.” Your voice is thick, Bucky’s heart breaks.

“Feather, that doesn’t mean you have to suffer always to find happiness.” He cups your face now.

“It’s always that way, James.”

“I refuse to let you think that.” He finalises. Taking his phone out, Sam’s number being dialled.

Bucky pulls you against his chest so that the two of you are laying on the sofa. His arms around you as he speaks to Sam over the speaker phone.

You can feel his voice rumble and his heartbeat under your cheek. The combination lulling you towards sleep despite you wanting to hear the solution.

Bucky kisses your forehead and temple every few minutes, he smiles noticing you ebbing towards sleep.

Sam’s parting words are that he would have his lawyer take a look at a redacted copy of the contract.

Hopefully there was a solution.

—<>—

You are awoken by soft lips tracing over your jaw, chin and eyelids. You hum, moving closer to his warmth. A rumble of laughter has you groan.

“James.” You huff, he pulls you closer.

“Sleepy, Feather.” He whispers, you nuzzle closer, contented to have his warmth return.

“What time is it?” You enquire.

“Past one fifteen.” He speaks softly, hands tracing over your form.

“Why did you not wake me up?” You sit up to look at him.

“You needed the nap, plus I fell asleep too.” He grins, you notice the sleep in his eyes. You reach up, softly tracing his under eyes.

“You’re really comfy.” You compliment him, Bucky laughs.

“I’m glad.” He grins, “I don’t think I slept that good in a long time.”

“Glad I could be of help.” You chuckle.

“Come on, let’s go make some ramen so you can eat while we watch my scenes from Gossip Girl.” He teases.

“Oh my god. I just said I didn’t recall the season’s storyline.” You shake your head.

“You’re hurting your boyfriend’s sentiments.” He pouts.

“Oh is that right? I thought Carter Baizen didn’t do emotions.” You raise a brow.

“Just admit Rhys Baizen sounds better.” He bargains.

“Oh my god, okay let me do a poll alright? Tomorrow we’ll put one up.” You counter.

“Fine.” He grumbles, you kiss his jaw.

“Alright boyfriend, girlfriend is hungry, ramen time.” You laugh as he still pouts.

You reach out, lips brushing over his, he grabs the back of your head. The ramen forgotten as his lips devour yours, turning your thoughts to mush.

—<>—

Sam: Spoke to Andy Barber, he can get you out of it, will take a week tops.

Bucky: thank you.

Sam: you might have to do a finishing PR bit, so stay prepared.

Bucky: i’ll tell, Y/N as well. Also could you have him look at her contracts?

Sam: Barber works with Murdock, he’s already on board with Yelena.

Bucky: she’s in good hands then?

Sam: the very best.

Bucky: good.

Your laugh draws him back to present, he’s back at your home after his routine.

“What is it?” His brows furrow.

“Look at the poll.” You laugh.

He opens your story, he glares at the results.

“Your fans have no taste.” He grumbles.

“Hey! Just cause they don’t like the name Baizen doesn’t mean they have no taste.” You defend.

Bucky pouts.

“At the end of the day, Rhys Bass is better than Carter.” You know the glare is fixed on you, then he gives a grin, he’s out of his seat and chasing you around the house.

Your mother smiles when Bucky catches you right outside her door, your smile having her smile brightly.

Bucky grins gazing intently at you, head dipping to give you a quick kiss.

Present.

“Mrs. and Ms. Y/L/N?” The doctor calls out, your mom wakes up.

You look up, Bucky helping you stand, you lean on him for support.

The doctor looks solemn. Your world begins to crumble with each word.

“We tried our level best; he had stabilised, we began the transfusion and taking him up to CT for internal scans. Unfortunately the extent of damage was massive. Major arteries had received trauma, he coded in during the transfer to the surgical suite.”

“He’s….” Your mother’s words are silent.

“The extent of his injuries was too much, I’m sorry, we couldn’t save him. We tried our level best. He did not respond to the CPR.” The doctor stands as someone screams, only when you feel your mouth muffled against something hard but soft you realise you’re the source of the scream.

“I’ve got you.” Bucky’s voice finds you, “breathe, feel my chest, breathe with me.” He urges.

You distantly hear Yelena asking for the next steps taking care of the formalities, Sam is taking care of your mom.

Bucky’s chest moves with yours, till your breathing calms. You tap at his chest. He shifts back.

“What do you need?” He asks, wiping your tears.

“Need, need to take care of everything.” You tell him.

Your mom reaches for you, she cries against your abdomen.

Yelena stands next to Bucky, “Do they have the funds for everything?” He questions whispering.

“They should be able to get it under control. Her finances are enough to support, mom’s got insurance.”

“If anything more is needed do not burden her, I’ll take care of it.” Bucky presses his lips into a thin line.

“We have to tell SHIELD.” Sam adds, “She could get an extension to not be at work.”

“Let’s wait for her before we disclose the news, which will rampantly leak.” Bucky decides.

“I’ll have Murdock and Barber on call.” Yelena takes her phone out.

You pull away from your mom, turning to the three of them. Wiping at your tears, you fix your expression. The stained tracks of your tears still remain.

Your expression is solemn but Yelena recognises it from before.

“You need to be there, she’s gone numb before, will break anytime.” She urges Bucky forward.He reaches for your hand you grasp.

“What is the plan of action?” You ask, looking at the three of them.

Yelena steps forward, “I suggest we take your mum to the nursing home overnight.”

“While we prepare for his last rights, okay.” You nod, turning to your mother.

She stares at her hands, sniffling every few minutes.

“You can see him if you want to,” The doctor adds, “I’m really sorry for your loss.”

You nod, “Mum, let’s go see him okay? Let’s say goodbye.”

“Call the nursing home, please?” You request him, he nods.

You let go of Bucky’s hand to push her wheelchair in, the staff holds the doors for you. He stands there, watching the way the light in your eyes dims, you’ve thrown yourself onto autopilot.

Steve is at the nursing home, you can’t be bothered to even question or understand what is going on, you can’t even be bothered by the bright flashes outside.

Bucky had spotted them, Sam cautioned him to remain outside in his vehicle. Hayden being there was also a nod to who it would be, he sat there staring jaw clenched as Steve tried to get through to you. His car parked right outside the office you were in with Steve.

“Steve, please, don’t.” You push away the hand that comes to console you. You don't need that, what you need is to get through the tasks mechanically.

“I’m just trying to help.” he says while looming over you as you fill the forms in a private room.

“I know you are, I appreciate it but I need to do things, please.” You look up at him, tears threatening to fall.

“Please let me take–,”

“Why are the paps here Steve? Did Valentina think, ‘Oh her father’s funeral is great PR to make us look serious?’ or did the paps follow you? I don’t remember texting you, hell I only know SHIELD and Hydrangeas were emailed ten minutes ago.” You stand up, you push at his chest.

“I know the facility they called–,” He moves when you push at him again.

“They called you? You aren’t family, you aren’t my mother’s assigned person, I am. So tell me, is that how you know when to visit? Is that how you rushed over because you have an inside source?” You’re yelling at him.

He says nothing, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I should have listened to James. I still thought I could give you a benefit of the doubt, that maybe, maybe your motivations aren’t selfish? Hell you said those public outing things to manipulate me didn’t you?” You scoff.

“I didn’t m'eudail–,” Steve’s chest cracks at your words.

“What part of anything that you shared with me was not a script written by your manager? Which Steve is the real one? The vulnerable one or the one trying to act suave? You know what? Don’t bother telling me. You have to find him before you lose yourself.” You seethe, cutting him off yet again, his mouth parts, his fists clench.

Bucky bursts into the room, his eyes meet with Steve’s. The two friends share a look.

“Steve, go.” Bucky pulls your shaking form against him, “I will call you. Go. I know you want to help speak to Yelena, get the paps away please. She’s going through enough.”

“I, m'eudail–Y/N, I’m sorry.”

His apology falls on unhearing ears, as you press yourself further into Bucky’s embrace.

Steve leaves, one last glance towards the two of you, “Take care of her.”

Bucky nods, his palm running over your head.

“As you know we at SHIELD are a family.” Alexander announces, a flurry of shutters resound.

“A family that puts their members first. We know the news of the passing of Ms. Y/L/N’s father has shaken the entirety of our family, cast and crew. We all are praying for her mother and her. In light of this news and the understanding and the cost and consequences calculated. Effective immediately I Think I Met You In My Dreams Once is placed on a forty day hold, while our family recovers from this tragic loss.” Alexander provides a solemn expression returning to his seat.

Maria Hill approaches the dais, “We at SHIELD Productions provide our full support to Ms. Y/N Y/L/N, she is a hard-worker and a visionary. Having her upon our panel of producers has provided insight. We will be taking questions now, Natasha, if you could please join me.” Maria turns as Natasha walks over.

You watch from inside the conference room, the working day ended abruptly an hour ago. Alexander and Sharon coming down to shut filming. Dolores was missing hence the proceedings for scenes that did not involve her were done.

Your mother was at home with a new nursing facility’s staff, you didn’t trust the old facility after Steve’s intervening, you still didn’t trust Steve..

Bucky sat to your right, Yelena to your left. Sam stays standing watching the live broadcast of the press conference.

Loki sat behind you. The minute you saw him on set you broke down as he hugged you. He apologised profusely for not being there because his work commitments had him miss the funeral and being by your side.

Steve sat in the far corner. Eight days you hadn’t spoken to him, of the eight even the five days you were at work filling in for Dolores you mechanically read the lines.

The entire ordeal too much, you haven't slept. You only ate when either of your friends held food in front of you. Ace was staying with you, Bucky visited daily, the paparazzi cataloguing his hours.

The collective fanbase had launched into a campaign against SHIELD Productions, the entertainment channels airing your story. Hydrangea’s leaked emails between the then chief editor and you who point blank asked if indeed your father was an abusive man. Your naive trusting self admitting under the pretence of false confidentiality that ‘yes, some of it is true’.

The entire world knew what you covered up as just a tale Your father had amassed an insurmountable debt, his gambling and the bills he claimed he paid all remained unpaid, the mortgage on the house to support your mother — unpaid.

The house was lost, the bank didn’t even wait for the mud on his grave to dry. Your maternal grandmother had left a two bedroom apartment to your name which you had rented out, the lease somehow on that was up, and your mother and you moved into it. The rent earned over the two years you had it could help with the expenses.

The apartment turned out to be in the same complex as Bucky’s rented unit. Another field day for paps.

Your focus dwindled and then returned when you heard Dolores’ name spoken with yours,

“I am sure Dolores is returning as we speak, she knows the familial values of SHIELD and its core ethics code of conduct–,”

“I’m hereeeeee!” She grins, her steps faltering as she drinks from a small bottle of vodka, Maria Hill stands on the dais utterly baffled.

Alexander Pierce looks up, the camera moves to Dolores.

“Where is the whiney bitch?” She laughs, “Oh whoops,” the bottle rolls across the floor, “Oh Alexander, I’m here, your staaaaar!”

“Dolores! You’ve been late to set and seen partying all the time.” A reporter asks,

“Yes, Dolores, your relationship with Bucky has also fizzled, due to your unprofessional behaviour.” Another yells out.

“Dolores, where were you?” a third questions.

“I was partying in Ibiza bitch! God this fucking movie, and that fucking boring ass man with one working arm.” She groans, “Ugh, talk about me, and my brand deals, baby.” She stumbles to the stage and walks up to the dais.

“Don’t make a scene.” Maria warns, covering the mic.

“Scene? God, you uptight bitch and where is the redhead director of horrors?”

“Watch your mouth Dolores.” Natasha warns.

“Please what fucking power you have over the main bosses? They keep that fat bitch around for nothing. Ruining my scenes.” Dolores looks at the audience pouting.

“Do it.” Nick sighs, turning to Natasha.

“I have your consent?” Natasha questions.

Maria turns to her, “Mine as well.”

“Two of three, very well.” Nat grins walking up to the dais.

Maria movies away from the mic, a smug expression upon her face.

“Dolores, you are hereby fired from the project.” Natasha declares the silence turns into an uproar.

Dolores begins hurling abuses as female security guards begin to escort her out.

There are sighs of relief in the conference room.

Ace laughs, “Final-fucking-ly.”

You look towards Bucky, his left palm cups your cheek.

Steve watches his chest tightening at the sight the two of you, as your forehead touches Bucky’s own.

HEADLINES:

Fans Of Barnes, Laufeyson and Rogers Crash Funeral. Security Provided By SHIELD Put To The Test.

Steve Rogers Looks Solemn Sitting Alone At Airport Bar. Will He Write About Lost Love?

Y/N Spotted Moving Into New Home Amid Bank Ceasing Her Father’s Home.

Bucky Barnes Seen At The Gym Burning Off The Sadness At His Relationship Ending With Dolores.

Dolores Checks Into Rehab, Pictures of Her Breakdown Post Public Firing From SHIELD Here.

A.N.: i know this chapter has some heavy scenes, if anyone needs to talk my DMs are open, I hope you liked this update

Taglist is Open comment or DM to be added!

Taglist: @stevesmewmew @elle14-blog1 @crazyunsexycool @sebsgirl71479 @pandaxnienke @slutforsexyseabass @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @pandaxnienke @vampire7595

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gofancyninjaworld · 2 years

Text

Six degrees of Stench

I joke/not joke that One-Punch Man canonicity consists of canon and not canon (yet) link. Wild shit just happens because it can and somehow it works.

So, for shits and giggles, a handful of headcanons that I’m fairly sure *won’t* be becoming canon.

First degree: cute

When Genos wants to wheedle a new toy (like a kit car) out of Kuseno, he makes the old man his favourite treat: home-made doughnuts, a chocolate dipping sauce, and freshly-ground coffee made over the stove. Kuseno claims every time that it won’t work. It's never failed.

Kuseno is strict about his bedtime: from the time he retires at 11 pm to when he appears at 6 am, Genos better have a damn good reason for disturbing him. A leg dropping off does not qualify. Most afternoons, Kuseno also has a nap behind his desk. He has always claimed to be just mediating when Genos has asked.

Second degree: unexpected

Although neither man knows it, Kuseno is the reason King quit competitive gaming: there was this one mysterious guy he just couldn't beat. It still haunts King.

Kuseno himself no longer does competitive gaming: between Genos keeping him busy and missing his once-faithful rival, it's lost its appeal.

Third degree: connections

Bofoi was his old student. They each changed their names for... reasons.

Fourth degree: Chekov's gunman... or there's no badass like an old badass

Manga-only. Kuseno finally shows up to give his boy a hand. As Genos tells Kuseno to fall back already, the old man levels one of the suit's shoulder-mounted guns and... there's a void where there was once a dragon-level monster, not even a curl of smoke remaining. Kuseno: yeah, I came up with this last week but I've not yet figured out how to make it small enough to install on you.

Fifth degree: Old man, you scary

Webcomic-only. The climax of the battle sees Genos and Saitama get to the heart of the Organization and just as things are getting super tense, a third person joins the fray. It's Kuseno, heavily armed and very much alive. That bring-back-a-dead-person-so-long-as-their-brain-is-intact technology we saw elsewhere? He was the original inventor. Genos: but you told me to run away! Kuseno: And yet, here you are. Be so kind as to shelter behind Saitama-kun, will you? Kuseno (to the enemy): I don't mind if Genos gets beat up, that's how my boy learns. But you bastards made him cry...unleashes hell

Sixth degree: Cruel, cruel world

Like something out of a cruel soap opera, the reason Genos and Child Empror look a bit like each other is that they're siblings but each was so convinced the other was dead that they'd never thought to look into it. In Isamu's case, his foster parents had been very good at gaslighting him so he doubted his very memories. As they compare notes, suddenly the random attack makes sense... it'd been intended to grab Isamu in the first place. Something else makes sense too: why Kuseno had arrived so fortuitously. Genos: Oh, I was the consolation prize.

And so...

Webcomic edition: Genos finds his inconsolable grief over losing the old man suddenly become consolable, although it's down to Saitama to accidentally on purpose to say something that puts it in perspective, e.g., by pointing out that there was nothing false about the affection he had had for him.

Manga edition: Since the old man is alive, Genos confronts him. He doesn't deny it but says that he'd intended to kidnap Child Emperor alone to forestall the massacre that happened. And yes, while to begin with, he'd thought of Genos as a consolation, he's long since changed his mind. Yes, it's true that Genos doesn't have the mind of the century, but he's got the sort of intellect one meets only a few times a decade. His courage though? That's the sort people write legends about. Now let’s talk about you trying harder to stay alive long enough to become one.

#OPM #Kuseno #wild speculations #I'd not even dignify these as headcanons #I'll be surprised if any show up in any form in the story #well other than bedtime as the old man does value his rest #would most like: the fifth one #would least like: the sixth one #would be most amused by: the second one. Saitama would become an instant fanboy

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atlafan · 4 years

Text

The Real Him - One Shot

a/n: I’m not sure where this came from...a lot of this is sort of how I feel about writing, and reading, and how my brain works???? Hope you enjoy cause it’s fun! Book Writer!Harry x Y/N (not proofread)

Words: 9.6K

Warnings: Fluff, wee bit of angst, and smut

Books weren’t things Y/N found interesting. She hated reading the assigned books in high school for whatever English classes she had to take. She often would just read what she needed on Sparknotes, and that was enough. Then, in college, even if she wanted to read for leisure, she didn’t have the time. She had to read articles and academic journals constantly. By the time she was done for the day, the last thing she wanted to do was read.

Now, as a young adult living in the city, she noticed her anxiety was always worse at night. She lived alone in a little studio apartment, it had a wonderful view. She would watch TV or scroll on her phone until she fell asleep, but the screens were too much for her eyes. She knew it wasn’t good for her. Much to her friends’ shock, she texted them asking them for book recommendations. Y/N didn’t want to think too hard, she didn’t like scary stories, but she also liked a little bit of world building and romance. Fuck, if there was anything she loved, it was a good romance. Her friends told her about this young author they discovered whose stories were enthralling.

She took their word for it, and ordered one of his books off his website. He was self-published, which she found to be interesting. How good could he be if a major publication didn’t want him? She trusted her friends’ opinions though, so she went with it. He had this series called, The Unicorn in the Farmer’s Pool, that they raved about. She told herself she’d start with the first one and see how it goes. Sometimes Y/N had a hard time concentrating to even read a book, so she didn’t want to buy too many.

The title of the book itself was odd, but when she read the description she understood. Apparently, it was about this young woman, new to town, who was going for a walk with her younger sister, and one day they come across this beautiful old home and large farm. There was a pool in the back with one of those big unicorn floats, which they both found odd. They see the farmer outside, and the woman inquires about it. He explains that it’s his daughter’s. He and his wife were divorced, and she moved out to the city. Unfortunately, she passed away, so his little girl came home to live with him.

It was a certified slow burn, so when it came in the mail, Y/N couldn’t wait to get her hands on it. There was only one picture of the author, Harry Styles, on his website. The book, however, had a lovely picture of him on it. He even named his publication company after himself, trademarking HES Books. He was handsome, there was no denying that.

“Alright, let’s see how well this guy knows how to write thing from the perspective of a woman.” She says as she settles into her bed with the book.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N found a book that she just couldn’t put down. Sure, she passed out with it on her chest, but she’d get right back to it the next night. She was ripping through it. Her heart would race anytime the farmer and the woman had a scene together. She cried when he spoke about his divorce, and how he never slept knowing his daughter was so far away. He’d never wish his ex-wife ill, but he felt like it was fate to have his daughter home. He’d give her anything she wanted, even a giant unicorn float for the pool. Something she couldn’t have in the city. His daughter would paint his nails glittery colors, and he didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought of it. Y/N could feel her heart pounding as the woman slowly fell for him. They became fast friends but it was clear they wanted more, but they were both so scared.

“Oh, you son of a bitch.” She says to herself when she gets to the end of the book, it was a cliffhanger. They hadn’t even gotten together yet. They were caught in a rain storm, about to kiss, but they were interrupted. “Goddammit.” She groans and grabs her laptop to buy the rest of the series. “Welp, Mr. Styles, you now own my ass, I hope you’re happy.” She sticks her tongue out at his picture on his website.

By the time she finished the third book, she was inconsolable. It thrilling, but she knew it couldn’t be the end for the two who were now so in love with each other. She also couldn’t believe how well written their love scenes were, a little shocked there was a small dash of smut. She looked on his website and saw he was set to release the fourth and final book of the series soon, and there would be a big release for it. He would do a reading and signing. Y/N texted her friends and they all agreed they needed to go. They still couldn’t believe how much Y/N liked the series. It consumed her soul, she couldn’t get enough. She even bought his other standalone novels to read until the release.

Eliza: hey! HES just released the first book on audio, and he narrates it! Should hold us over until the release ;)

Y/N: holy fucking shit! Literally about to go download it, thanks!!!

Now this was a way to fall asleep, she thought. She plugged her earbuds into her phone, turned her light off, and hit play. She gasps the second she hears his voice.

“He’s British?!” She says to herself. “Dear god.”

His voice was deep and sultry, and sounded incredibly crisp through the audio. Each night for the rest of that week, she fell asleep to the sound of Harry’s voice; it was euphoric. She felt sort of weird for becoming as big of a fan of him that she was. It was like she was in high school again having a crush on some unattainable celebrity. She couldn’t even talk about him to anyone at work. It was like this big secret between her and her friends. Instead of listening to music in her office, she started listening to interviews or podcasts he was involved in. Anything to just get a better understanding for who he was or how his mind worked. She found that he was incredibly private, only tweeting or posting on Instagram from promotional purposes. A PR person most likely running the sites for him.

“Okay, I think I’m obsessed with him, like, it’s bad.” She tells her friends at brunch one Saturday morning. They would all try their best to get together a couple times a month.

“Welcome to the dark side.” Eliza says.

“I knew if we didn’t push you that you’d come around at some point to ask us for a book rec.” Melinda says.

“You could have just showed me his picture, he’s so handsome! I can’t wait to go to the signing. I wonder what type of suit he’ll wear. Maybe all black?”

“I heard he’s into florals lately.” Eliza says. “I’m glad we got our tickets when we did, it’s going to be packed.”

“Yeah, like, at least we’ll have seats for the reading.” Melinda says.

“I can’t believe we’re going to hear his voice in person. That audio book? Oh my god.” She pretends to fan herself. “I’ve been enjoying his other novels too. He has such a way with words, I can’t remember the last time I actually enjoyed a book this much. Maybe The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants?” She chuckles.

“Didn’t you read that in high school?!” Eliza laughs.

“Yeah!” Y/N laughs, and Melinda joins in. “I fucking hate reading. I wonder if he’ll ever sell the rights and have it turned into a movie or TV series.”

“People have been begging him. He said maybe once the fourth book has been out for a bit. He didn’t want to feel pressured, like, you know how with Game of Thrones the books didn’t come out fast enough for the series?” Melinda says.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. I think a TV show would be good. Then they could take their time with it. The only thing is I can’t picture someone playing the farmer other than him.” Y/N sighs.

“Agreed.” Eliza says. “I can really only see him.”

“So, how are we dressing for the signing? I don’t wanna look desperate by dressing up too much.” Melinda says.

“Melinda…” Y/N starts chuckling. “You have a girlfriend.”

“I’m aware.” She swats a hand at Y/N. “But damn, Harry is too fine.”

Y/N curls the ends of her hair on the day of the signing. It was finally here, and she couldn’t be more excited. She found a cute yellow top to wear with some high waist jeans. She does some simple makeup, but makes sure to have her eyes pop. The rules were that people could only bring one book with them, so she grabs the first in the Unicorn series. She fully intended to buy the new book as well, and they said he would sign all new purchases too.

She meets Melinda and Eliza outside the bookstore where it would all be happening. They get in line to buy their new books, and head to their seats. They were able to snag tickets for the second row. He would be reading the first few chapters of the first book, and then would spend the rest of the time signing books.

“I’m so excited.” Y/N whispers to both of her friends.

A man comes out shortly to check the crowd of people waiting, and soon it’s announced that Harry would be coming out. Everyone stands up and claps for him. He was wearing a sleek black suit, and his hair was pushed back off his face. He looked bashful as he smiled out to everyone, and stood at the podium provided. Everyone sits back down as he clears his throat.

“Thank you all so much for being here. Whether you’re a new fan or if you’ve been with me for years, I appreciate your support. It feels surreal for this series to be over. I’ve loved these characters so much, and when I finished the final edits, it felt weird saying goodbye. I also want to say thanks for all the support with the first audio book. I fully intend to do one for the rest, it just takes a lot of time and editing, so hold tight for me, alright?” The crowd giggles, and his dimple grows deeper. He takes a sip of the water provided, and opens the book. “Let’s get started shall we?” He looks up at the audience who was waiting patiently. He makes eye contact with Y/N. It’s brief, but he looked at her…or at least she told herself he did.

His voice was just as smooth in person as it was on the audio. Y/N was swooning, barely paying attention to the words, but more so watching the way his lips moved. The way he’d lick his lips after getting a sip of water, and watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down. It all felt like a dream. He ended up reading five chapters instead of three, as a treat, until his manager came out to remind him to wrap it up.

“Right, well, I’ve been told I’m done speaking.” He chuckles. “I just need about ten minutes and I’ll be able to sign all your books. Thanks so much!”

He leaves as everyone claps for him again. Everyone gets in line and waits for him to return. There was a table waiting for him to sit at and a ton of markers.

“I wonder how long we’ll get with him. Like, a minute, right?” Eliza asks.

“Make every second count.” Y/N says.

“I’m gonna try to take a selfie.” Melinda says. “Then I’ll really remember it forever.”

As the girls got closer to the front of the line, Y/N felt herself getting nervous, and her palms were starting to sweat. She tries to wipe them on her jeans before she gets to him.

“Hello, love.” He smiles at her. “Whatcha bring f’me?”

“Huh?” She was so taken aback.

“Well, I know you didn’t come here to have me sign a body part…unless you did.” He shrugs. “Although, I don’t think my manager would appreciate that.” He winks at her and it makes her giggle.

“I have the first back, and the newest one.” She hands them both to him. “I have to say, I’m not really a big reader, but this really drew me in. I think I’ve fallen in love with reading for the first time in my life.”

“That’s like…I mean…wow, what a compliment, thanks.” He signs both of the books. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeats as he continues to leave a nice note in both of her books. “You know pictures aren’t allowed, but if you turn around and happen to take a selfie they can’t stop you.” He points to the few guards.

Y/N turns around and takes a selfie with Harry. She turns back around and chuckles as she takes her books back.

“Thank you so much. I can’t wait for the next audio books.”

“You liked the first one?”

“Loved it.”

“So, it wasn’t weird listening to me for that long?”

“Not at all…” She starts blushing. “Your voice is sort of, um, soothing…I have a lot of anxiety at night, and, well, reading, and evening listening has helped me sleep a lot better. So, thanks again.” She smiles at him and he smiles back.

He wished he could hug her. He looks back at his manager, who just sighs at him and nods. Harry stands up from the table and walks around. Before she knew it, his arms were being wrapped around her. She got a whiff of his cologne, and she swore it was her new favorite smell in the world. She barely got a chance to put her hands on him before his manager said it was enough and Harry needed to get back to it.

“Sorry, that was just so endearing.” He lets go of her and sits back down. “Thanks for your support.”

Y/N steps aside and looks at her friends who were waiting for her to finish up. She looks back at Harry who was already talking to the next person. She sighs, knowing she was long forgotten already.

“Oh my god, I took a picture of him hugging you.” Eliza says. “What was it like? All he did was shake my hand.”

“He smelled so good.” Y/N whines. “Girls, let’s go out for drinks tonight. I need to get some energy out.”

“Great idea! We can drink and then dance the night away.” Melinda says. “What did he write in your books?”

“I don’t wanna look yet, I wanna save it.” Y/N smiles and holds her books close to her.

After grabbing dinner and dropping their books off at Y/N’s place, they all head to their favorite dance bar. They all get their drinks and stand near the bar to drink them. Y/N was happily sucking on her straw, swaying along to the fast beat of the music.

“Look, they actually roped off the VIP section.” Eliza points out. Y/N and Melinda turn to look.

“I wonder who’s here. Once in a while someone cool shows up.” Melinda says.

The group in the VIP section erupts into laughter, and the girls’ eyes grow wide. Harry was standing up from the booth, looking much more casual. He still had his dress pants and button up on, but his sleeves were pushed up, revealing his tattoos. He strides up to the bar as he shakes his head back at his friends. He brushes right by the girls, bumping into Y/N, causing her to spill her drink.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, love.” He says to her, and then he looks her up and down. “Do I know you?” He slurs slightly.

“Um…we…we met earlier today. You signed my books.”

“I signed your what?!” The music was really loud, he must have thought she said something else.

“Books, books!” She really enunciates the k sound.

“Oh!” He bursts out laughing, and puts a hand on her shoulder. “I was gonna say, that sorta thing isn’t really my style. What are you drinking, I’ll get you a new one.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. There’s still plenty in here.”

“Don’t be silly, I feel terrible. In fact,” He looks at Melinda and Eliza, and then to the bar tender. “Their next round’s on me. I also need another bottle of Patron for my table.”

“Coming right up!”

“Lost a bet with ‘em.” He rolls his eyes. “So the next bottle’s on me.” He shrugs.

“We’ll bring it over to you.” The bar tender says as she puts up three new drinks for you and your friends.

“You really didn’t have to do that.”

“S’the least I can do. Your support is the only reason why I can afford what I have. I should buy your drinks all night.” He smirks.

“Y/N.” Melinds grabs her shoulders and whispers in her ear. “Go for it, bitch, go for it. He’s hitting on you. We’ll be over there.”

She lets Y/N go and drags Eliza with her over to another part of the bar. Y/N grabs her drink and smiles at Harry.

“Your name’s Y/N, right?”

“You must have seen hundreds of people today, how’d you remember?”

“I’m really good with names.” He grins. “Do you want to join me and my friends?”

“What?!”

“Come on, seems like your friends are busy anyways.” He nods over to Melinda and Eliza where Melinda was working as a wing-man for Eliza. “They’re bringing over the Patron, you’ll love it.” He grabs her wrist and brings her over. One of the body guards raises his eyebrows. “I’m baacckk, let us in Mike.” Mike lifts the rope up and lets Harry and Y/N in. “Everyone this is Y/N, she’s got to be one of my biggest fans, so she’s joining us.” He pulls her down into the booth with him and puts his arm around her shoulders.

He was drunk, this was very clear. No one seemed bothered by her presence. Everyone was just happy to have refills for their drinks. Harry takes a shot of the Patron along with everyone else as Y/N sips on her drink. She felt bad, Eliza had to be a bigger fan of Harry, or at least she had been a fan longer…

“So, how’d you know he’d be here?” Harry’s manager, Jeff, asks.

“I didn’t.” She blushes. “My friends and I come here all the time.”

“Right, like we haven’t heard that one before.” Jeff smirks. “Some of you fangirls-“

“Oi! Don’t make fun, she’s cool.” Harry defends her.

“I can prove I’ve been here plenty of times.” Y/N takes her phone out and shows them her Facebook page. “There, you can see how many times I’ve checked in here. I only live a block away, so this tends to be the spot.”

“See, Jess, this is the spot.” Harry smirks, and knocks back another shot. “We’re being rude, here.” He slides a shot over to her. “Have as much as you like.”

“That’s okay, I have this.” She points to her glass.

“Oh, I knew I liked you, you’re so nice.” He pulls her a little closer to him. “But really, if you want any, you can have as much as you want, okay?”

“Thanks.”

Y/N sort of just sits there and tries to listen as each person talks, but the music was so loud, and she was itching to dance, especially now that she had a couple of drinks in her. She was drumming her fingers mindlessly on the table.

“Do you want to dance?” He whispers in her ear. A shiver goes up her spine. She looks up at him and nods. “Alright, let’s hit it then.”

She gets out of the booth and he quickly follows her out to the dance floor. At first it’s just light and playful, he keeps one hand in hers, but keeps a respectable distance. If Y/N was dancing with her friends right now she’d probably be popping her ass no problem. She sort of wished they were still around. She couldn’t remember the last time she danced with a guy. She looks at him and feels a little bold, so she hooks an arm around his neck and dances close to him. His hands move to her hips as she essentially grinds on his thigh. When the next song starts, she turns around to grind her ass against his pelvis. He presses forward against her and she can tell he’s very happy to be dancing with her.

“You said your place was only a block away?” He says into her ear, and she nods. “Wanna head there?”

She stops dancing and turns around to face him.

“Are you serious?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry, too forward?”

“No…I just…um…yeah, let’s go back to mine.”

He smiles and throws his arm around her shoulders. He looks over at Jeff who was still sitting with their friends. He waves off to him, and heads out side with Y/N. Harry whistles for a cab, and one pulls up almost right away. They both get into the backseat, and Y/N gives the driver her address. Harry rubs circles into her shoulder. She rests her hand on his knee, as her leg shakes with nerves.

“You alright, love?”

“Mhm, yeah.” She doesn’t look at him.

“No need to be nervous, babe, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

She looks up at him now and smiles. She wanted to do everything with him. It was like every fantasy she had was coming to life. She had dreams about this, but never thought it would come true. The cab pulls up in front of Y/N’s building and they both get out of the cab. She keys into the front door and she leads him to the elevator.

“I’m surprised you’re not exhausted, must be draining to meet so many people.”

“Caught a second wind.” He winks at her. She giggles as they get off at her floor.

She leads him inside as she flips the lights on.

“It’s just a studio.”

“It’s nice, just enough space. You’ve got a great view.” He says as he walks over to the window.

“Yeah, I got really lucky.”

“Mind if I pull the curtains?”

“Not at all.”

She watches the muscles in his back flex as he reaches to pull the curtains closed. He turns to face her and walks over to where she is. He cups one of her cheeks and she leans into his touch.

“I have to be honest, I don’t usually do this.” He says.

“Do what? Hook up with a girl from a bar?” She smirks.

“No, hook up with a fan…” He sighs. “But what you said to me earlier about your anxiety and how my books have helped you, it stuck with me all day. I’m really glad I ran back into you. I got kinda nervous when you didn’t message me.”

“What? Why would I have?”

“I wrote my number in your book.” He lets go of her and steps back. “You didn’t read my notes?”

“No, I…I was saving them for when I was feeling down.” She admits, a little embarrassed. “Why did you put your number in it?”

“In case you ever needed someone to talk to…if you ever got sick of listening to the same story over and over. It was a little impulsive, but no one’s ever said anything like that to me before.”

“I’m surprised by that.”

“Usually people just tell me that they enjoyed it, or they try to flirt or something. It’s usually pretty hollow.” He shrugs. “But you…” He takes her hands in his. “Well…if you noticed, I didn’t really hug anyone else.”

“I did notice. You made me feel really special, Harry.”

“I’d like to keep making you feel that way…”

He releases her hands, and she wraps her arms around his neck. Her hands slide up through his curls, and she gets up on her tip toes while his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her close. His lips brush over hers, and she pulls his face closer to hers to deepen the kiss. She smiles against his lips which makes him smile and pull back.

“What is it?”

“I just…I can’t believe this is happening…” She presses her hips closer to his.

“You’ve thought about this before, with me?”

She nods her head yes and he smirks.

“Is that weird?” She asks, cheeks heating up from embarrassment.

“Who am I to judge what helps someone fall asleep at night?” His voice was low now, eyes darker than they were moments before.

Maybe this wasn’t something either of them should be doing while inebriated. But from lack of better judgement they start kissing again. His hands slide down to cup her ass, and his large hands give her a squeeze. She groans into his mouth, giving him the perfect excuse to lick into her. Her tongue molds to his, and she starts pushing him to walk back towards her bed. He happily lets her lead the way.

The back of his calves hit the bed, and he almost loses his balance. He sits down and brings her with him so she’s straddling his lap. Lips only breaking for a moment to get some air until they’re on each other again. Her hands lace through his hair and he groans when she tugs on him. His lips move to her jaw and then to just under her ear. She gasps when she feels him suck on the tender skin. Her hips roll down over his, and he smirks against her. He licks over the spot he was sucking on, and goes back for more. She grinds herself against him, feeling his bulge press up against where she needs it most. His lips move back to hers so he can nip at her bottom lip before looking at her.

“You want this?” He asks.

“Wouldn’t have said yes to coming back here if I didn’t.”

“You could have changed your mind between the bar and now.” He tucks some loose strands of hair behind her hair. “I meant what I said earlier, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I want to, do you?”

“I certainly didn’t change my mind.”

She smiles and leans in to kiss him again before getting off him. She reaches behind him quickly to snag one of her throw pillows to put on the floor. She sits up on her knees before him and reaches for his for the button on his dress pants. She looks up at him as he widens his legs for her. He wasn’t expecting a blow job, but he wasn’t one to turn it down. She pops the button and undoes his zipper. She reaches into his pants and palms him through his boxers first. His palms were flat on the bed, his arms keeping him up, but he can’t help but let his head fall back from her touch.

“Harry, look at me.”

He immediately does as she says so he can make eye contact with her.

“Is this okay? Can I take it out?”

“Yeah, please.”

She smiles and tugs his pants and boxers down slightly, he lifts his hips up to help her. He unbuttons his shirt while his dick slaps up against his lower stomach. She gazes up at him. Once his shirt is off, she can’t help but look over all his tattoos.

“You’re so…pretty.” She chuckles.

“Not as pretty as you.” He runs his hands through her hair, giving her a little encouragement to get started.

She blushes as her eyes fall to his hard cock, tip swollen and ready to go. She licks her right hand and gives him a few pumps first. He grunts as he watches her. She licks a stripe up from his base to his tip before she wraps her lips around him. His eyes flutter closed for a second, but he didn’t want to miss anything so he does his best to keep his eyes open to watch her work on him. She already had small droplets of spit rolling down her chin. Sloppy, he thinks to himself and he smirks. She sinks a little further down on him, testing herself to see how much she can take. He thrusts up slightly to meet her halfway and she gags on him, needing to pop off for a moment.

“Sorry, been a while.” She mumbles, and gets back on him.

“No worries, doing great, love.”

He helps keep her hair back as she starts to bob up and down on him. Her warm mouth felt so fucking good around him. She swallows around him before really hollowing her cheeks to suck on him. Her mouth moves up to his tip so she can lick away at his slit. She wraps a hand around him to pump him as she does this.

“Baby, baby, hold on.” He pants, and moves her face away from him. She looks up at him with big, innocent eyes that were slightly watery now. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.” He sounded almost out of the breath. She nods and stands up. His hands grips her hips and then slide to the button on her own jeans. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” She says, taking off her shirt. He looks up at her and kisses on her chest as he undoes her pants.

He yanks them down her legs. He smiles at her mismatched set of underwear. She had worn a white bra with her yellow shirt, and a simple pair of blue panties with her jeans.

“I didn’t think, um, I would be…it was a girl’s night, and-“

“Do you really think I care about your underwear not matching?” He raises an eyebrow at her as he smirks.

She smiles and rests her hands on his shoulders as he kisses on her lower tummy. He stands up to kick his pants away, and lets her get on the bed. She lays on her back, propping herself up with her elbows. He crawls onto the bed and settles between her legs. His lips find hers as he grinds himself against her covered center. She bites her bottom lip, just wanting her underwear gone. He reaches behind her to unhook her bra. After a few seconds of fumbling he gets it, and watches the bra loosen around her. She pushes it off her shoulders, and tosses it to the ground. His hands cup her full breasts immediately. He kneads them and tweaks her nipples. She grinds her hips up towards his as they continue to move against each other. He dips his head down to kiss on her chest, and he rolls a nipple between his teeth. He works his way down her body and slides her underwear down her legs, tossing them aside where he feels like. She parts her legs for him.

He dips his down and licks from her center to her clit. He does this slowly but with precision. Her hips buck up towards him, encouraging him to keep going, so he does. He licks all around her until his lips are around her throbbing clit. He nibbles and sucks and flicks his tongue while his fingers explore her folds. Her hands were in his hair. She kept thinking she was going to wake up. Any minute now she would snap out of her dream. She would pinch her eyes closed and expect to see the morning sun creeping through her windows, but not this time. When she opened her eyes there he was, head between her legs, lapping away at her. The clouds covering the moon and night sky. He had her whimpering and tugging at his hair. He wanted her to come, but not yet, just get her to the brink. She pouts at him when he lifts his head. He licks his lips and smiles at her.

“Got any rubbers?”

“Mhm, in the bathroom, I can-“

“I got it, just tell me where.”

“The box in the cabinet below the sink.”

He pecks her lips before going into her little bathroom. He smirked to himself wondering how he might shower the next morning. He was taller than the showerhead. He bends down to open up the cabinet and spots the box of condoms. It was opened, but not many were missing. Not the he was one to judge. Harry hooked up a lot. He grabs a couple, just in case they feel like getting frisky again later on, and heads back out. He rips the foil packet open and slides it on over his length. She bites her bottom lip in anticipation.

“Tell me something,” He starts as he gets back on the bed, between her legs, hovering over her body. “When you had me in your thoughts was it ever like this?”

He rubs his tip against her clit, getting her to moan out. He pushes into her entrance but doesn’t go much further until he gets his answer. His eyebrows were raised, looking at her.

“This is usually the part when I’d wake up.” She whispers. “Before anything good could really happen.” She cups his cheek and runs her thumb over his cheekbone. “Please.”

He kisses her as he pushes the rest of the way inside her. They both groan. She was so wet, even with the condom on, it still felt amazing. He was nice and snug inside her. He moves slowly at first to not hurt her. He hooks an arm under one of her legs to bring it up a little higher. He wanted to get in as deep as possible. She clutches at his shoulders as he drives it in.

“Oh my god.” She gasps as his tip brushes her g-spot. “Jesus Christ.” She grits her teeth.

“Ever had anyone like this before?” He says into her ear.

“Never this deep, shit.”

He sits up and puts both of her legs over his shoulders. His fingers press bruises into her thighs as he holds onto her. She looks up at him as her mouth falls open. He was ramming into her and it felt so good to fuck like this. She didn’t want to be treated delicately. What he was doing was amazing, but her clit was missing the friction, so her hand slides down to rub at it.

“Fuck.” He breathes as he watches her touch herself. He lets go of one of her thighs and moves her hand aside so he can rub it for her. Her head rolls back the second she feels his thumb on her.

“Just like that.” She pants. “Don’t stop.”

He grunts his response as he continues to fuck her. He could feel her tightening around his cock and he knew she was close. He rubs her a little faster, and watches as her body contorts under his.

“Let go, come on, show me how you do it, Y/N.”

That pushes her over the edge. She cries out as she comes around him. He rubs her still, but slows his pace to help her through it. She tightens around him again as she comes down from her bliss. He drops her legs and pulls out. He sits up against her headboard and pulls her into his lap. He doesn’t have her face him, though, he has her sit on him facing away. Her head rolls back against his shoulder once she sinks down on him. She uses her knees to push herself up and down on his cock. He bites down on her shoulder, licks up to just under her ear to suck on the tender skin again. His hands find her bouncing breasts, and he kneads them.

“Harry.” She groans.

“Feels good, love?”

“So good.” She turns her head and sticks her tongue out slightly so he’ll kiss her. His tongue meets hers and they practically slobber all over each other as her pace quickens on him.

His hands slide down to her hips to help her. He thrusts up into her to get into a rhythm. He could feel his orgasm bubbling at the base of his spine.

“Fuck, oh my god.” He moans, which makes her moan. She tightens around him. He wanted her to come again, to come with him, so he rubs her clit while she continues to bounce him.

“Shit, fuck, Harry!”

They come at the same time, both of them crying out form the intensity. He gives her a second to catch her breath before he lifts her off of him. She gets up and quickly walks to the bathroom to clean herself up. He goes in after her to rid himself of the condom. She was about to throw on a t-shirt when he comes back out.

“Don’t bother.” He smirks.

“What do you mean?”

“It’ll just come off again.”

“Oh.” She blushes and puts it back into her dresser.

He gets on the bed with her and pulls her close to his chest. His fingers run up and down her back lightly, causing goosebumps to raise on her skin. She rests one of her legs on top of his, and wraps her arm around his torso. She wasn’t sure if she’d have the energy to fuck him again so soon, especially when the rhythm of his heart beat was lulling her to sleep. Her eyes flutter closed. He looks down at her and smiles when he sees her lips parted. He kisses the top of her head, and slowly falls asleep himself.

The next morning, Y/N wakes up cozy, head stuffed into her pillow, blankets wrapped around her. It was darker than usual. Her eyes flutter open and see the rain falling down. She hears it tapping delicately against her windows. It was a normal Sunday morning, or it would have been if she hadn’t completely forgotten there was a warm body wrapped around her. She rolls over slowly not to disturb the stranger. She gasps to herself when she sees it really is Harry Styles, not just some guy that looked like him. She really took him home with her and she really fucked him. He pulls her closer to her and she sighs.

“Your bed’s comfy.” He mutters.

“Thanks, I’ve got one of those foam pads under the sheets. Makes a world of difference.”

She feels his chest rumble as he chuckles. She feels him press a soft kiss to her forehead before pulling away slightly.

“Mind if I grab a shower?”

“Not at all.” She smiles up at him. “If you don’t mind smelling like my fruity shampoo, that is.”

“You’re funny.” He chuckles again and stretches as he sits up. He rubs his eyes, and gets out of the bed. Y/N couldn’t help but ogle his naked body as he walks away. He pops his head out of the door frame to look at her. “Are you coming?”

“Oh…you wanted me to-“

“Obviously.” He scoffs. “Wouldn’t mind fucking you again, either.”

Normally she’d wrap herself in a blanket, but if he was going to be bold, then so was she. So she gets out of bed and struts over towards him. She brushes her teeth quickly as he uses some mouth wash. She gets the water in the shower going.

“Does that head detach? I don’t know if I can crouch for that long.” He laughs.

“Yeah, it comes right off, don’t worry.” She pulls back the curtain and they both get in.

She helps him wash up, scrubs her nails over his head as she washes out the shampoo, and once they’re both clean, he hoists her up against the wall, and kisses her. She was plenty wet for him, and he smiles against her as he slips a finger inside her.

“You were ready f’me, hm?”

“Guess so.” She nips at his bottom lip, which delights him.

“Mind if I just slip it in like this and pull out after?”

“That’s fine.” She smiles. “Wouldn’t mind actually being able to feel you.”

“Christ.” He groans, and then pushes his hard cock inside her. Her head rolls back against the tile as his lips attack to her throat.

It was a nice, passionate morning fuck. When they’re done she gets him a towel, and wraps one around herself. He watches as she runs around to make her bed back up. It was a small apartment, so any clutter just made it look even smaller. He grabs his phone out of his pants pocket, and sighs.

“Alright?” She asks, sitting on the edge of her bed. He comes to sit down next to her.

“Yeah, just a ton of missed calls and texts. Thought I made it pretty clear to Jeff I wouldn’t be coming back to the hotel last night.”

“Do you have a plane to catch or anything?”

“Not today, tomorrow though.”

She watches as he types away to respond to the dozen or so texts he had form various people.

“Would you like any coffee or anything? Juice?”

“Just a black coffee would be perfect if it’s not too much trouble, love.”

“Coming right up.”

His eyes flicker up to watch her bum and hips sway as she walks into the kitchen area. She fills up her Keurig to get his coffee going.

“No cream or sugar, just black?”

“Please.” He smiles. “Thanks.”

She nods and gets a mug down from her cabinet to place under the machine. She thinks he’s talking to her for a moment, but when she looks over she can see he’s on the phone.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back. I’m well aware, thanks.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m allowed to go out and have some fun.” He crosses a leg over the other so he can rest his elbow on his thigh, propping his chin up with his palm. “She’s making me a cup of coffee, is that alright? No, I don’t just carry those in my back pocket…” He rolls his eyes. “I’ll take care of it. Alright, bye.”

She comes over to him with a mug for him, and one for herself. She added a bit of cream to hers. She just couldn’t do black coffee.

“Thank you so much, feel like I’m about to get a headache.” He says, taking the mug from her, smacking his lips after he takes a sip.

“I have some aspirin if you need some.”

“Caffeine should work just fine, but thank you.”

“So, uh, not that I was listening in or anything, just, small space and all, but what don’t you carry around in your back pocket?”

“Oh.” He chuckles. “An NDA, that’s all. Jeff’s gonna email one over to me any second I’m sure.”

“What do you need an NDA for?”

“It’s not for me, it’s for you.” She looks at him deeply confused. “I’m a very private person, and not that I think you’re the type to go around spouting your business, it’s just, well, you’re a fan and…”

“You need me to sign an NDA so I won’t tell anyone we fucked?”

“Basically, yeah. Sorry if that makes things a little awkward. It’s just to keep my personal life personal, that’s all.” He takes another sip of the coffee. “This is really good, what brand is this?”

“Green Mountain Coffee…it comes from Vermont.”

“It’s delicious, I’ll have to look into it.” He smiles, although she can tell she’s starting to feel uneasy. She’s painfully aware that this was just a drunk hookup, a one night stand. “Are you alright?” He puts a hand on her knee.

“M’fine, just a bit groggy.” She sips her own coffee.

“Well, I’m starved, you’ve gotta be too, right? What a good place to grab some breakfast around here?” He stands up and starts looking for his clothes.

“Um…there’s a place right down the street.”

“We’ll have to take a cab unless you have a really big umbrella.” He smirks as he pulls his boxers on.

“Do I have to sign an agreement saying I won’t talk about breakfast too, or?”

Harry sighs as he pulls his pants on. She looks at him as she sips her coffee.

“Guess I’ll find out when I read the fine print.” She stands up and walks back over to her kitchen area. He follows her there with his mug and sticks it in the sink.

“Why is it such a big deal?”

“It’s not, I just…I mean…what do you think I’m going to do? Go onto a blog and spill every detail about last night? As if I could remember every little thing.” She scoffs and rinses out her mug.

“You easily could. You have to understand, sometimes when stories slip or people feel like they know things about you, it’s harder to get deals or make business decisions. I want to be taken seriously, so I don’t post personal things on social media, and I have the people I hook up with sign NDA’s.”

“Well, maybe I should have you sign one for me then.” She says, crossing her arms. He raises an eyebrow at her. “How do I know our night together won’t be inspiration for your next love scenes? You’re quite descriptive in your works. You must take from real life when you’re writing those things.”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll text Jeff and have him email me two, one for each of us. I won’t talk about you and you won’t talk about me. Now, can we please go get some breakfast?”

“Why do you even want to go anywhere with me if you’re so scared of people finding out?” She walks over to her dresser to pick out an outfit she wouldn’t mind getting wet in the rain.

“It’s one thing to be seen with someone at a diner, it’s another to have what you’re like in the bedroom aired out to millions of people.”

“It’ll be obvious we slept together. My neck is littered with kiss marks.” She taps over one of the spots. He watches as she wriggles a pair of panties up her legs, and then a pair of jeans. “You’re also wearing your clothes from last night.” She tosses him his button up.

“I don’t suppose you have a large t-shirt I could throw on?”

“I’m sure I could find one.” She find a bra and t-shirt of her own, and then rummages through her pajama drawer for one of her larger bed shirts. “Here.” She hands him the shirt. He puts it on and looks down at it.

“Cute.” He smiles. “You can keep mine, and I’ll keep this one, how’s that sound?”

“Guess I’m just glad that’s not my favorite one.” She grabs her raincoat and umbrella. She furrows her brows and then remembers where her rubber boots on. “Could you order an uber or something?”

“Sure.”

They get down to the street, and head into the car he ordered. The diner was busy when they got there, but since it was just the two of them, they didn’t have to wait long to be seated. Harry’s phone pings with the email from Jeff.

“So…I just need to digitally sign it?”

“Mhm.” He hands his phone over to her so she can read over everything. He rests his chin on his palm. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen someone read over it so diligently before.”

“I’m a lawyer.” She mumbles.

“No shit.” He sits up, suddenly even more intrigued with her. “Good for you.”

“Well, I’m in law school, and I work as a para at a law firm, but I’m getting there.” She says as she uses her finger to sign her life away. “I’d like to read the one he sent to you for me.”

“Just swipe to the next email.”

She nods and looks it over. It was the same as her. She hands him back his phone and watches him sign it.

“I’d like both copies emailed over to me.”

“Alright, what’s your email?”

“I’ll put it in.” She takes his phone back and puts her information in, sending herself the copies. “There.” She crosses her arms. “Happy?”

“Yes, actually.”

A waitress comes over to them, and they both order scrambled eggs with bacon, potatoes, and toast. It’s quiet between them for a few moments. She looks out the window to watch the rain fall, and then looks back at him. He was twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He looks up at her.

“What am I doing here with you? You could have easily slipped out this morning, even last night…”

“I’m not that kind of guy.”

“So…what is this, a consolation before we never see each other again?”

“No.”

“Then what is this?! I feel like I’m not even looking at a real person. I’ve wanted to meet you for so long, and I would have killed for the opportunity to sit down and have breakfast with you. I have so many questions about your work, and-“

“So, ask me.”

“What?”

“Ask me all your questions. What can I answer that I haven’t already in an interview? You wanna know my thought process? Where and what I get inspired by? How long it takes me to write a book, a chapter even? I only have bullshit answers, to be honest. I keep notes on my phone for when I get inspired, and then when I’m able to be at my computer I’ll type for hours without stopping. It’s like I blackout or something. It feels like I didn’t even take a second to blink. I’ll work on multiple projects at the same time too. I have three other books I’m currently working, all with completely different topics and characters. I can’t shut my brain off, ever. I don’t know why I’m like this. Even when I go on a vacation to unplug, I have to keep a notebook with me to write things down. I started writing because I just needed to get everything out of my head. I feel a huge sense of relief when I’m done with a piece so I can just move on from it. I had to start my own publication because my content was going to be put in the same category as Fifty Shades, and I didn’t want that. Luckily, Jeff went to school for PR, and he helped me out, and now he’s my manager. He’s the best there is, but sometimes it would be nice to fuck a pretty girl and take her to breakfast without having to worry about every little thing.”

Before Y/N can respond their food is brought over. They both thank the waitress. She picks her for up and plays with her potatoes before looking at him.

“Not to mention, said pretty girl told me how much my work means to her, how it helps her sleep at night. Fuck, I mean, I thought I was going to melt into a fucking puddle right there. My anxiety gets bad at night too, I knew exactly where you were coming from, babe. I can’t tell you how many nights I try to go to sleep and can’t, so I just get up and go back to my computer until I pass out in my chair.” He blinks at her, as she still says nothing. “Are you…not going to say anything?”

“I’m not sure what to say, I’m trying to take in everything you said and match it to the person you were yesterday at that signing. It’s an act, right? Your cool demeanor?”

“I have a stage presence for sure.” He sighs, and takes a bite of his bacon. “What am I gonna do, get up there and tell everyone that the fourth book took so long because I had to have surgery for carpal tunnel?”

“For someone who likes to be so private, you’re sure telling me a lot of personal things.”

“You signed something saying you wouldn’t discuss any of this, so I feel a little freer to explain myself. Have I totally ruined your perception of me? Is this a never meet your hero sort of moment?”

“Not at all.” She smiles. “You seem comfortable with me, which is nice. I like that I’m seeing this side of you, you’re more than just the suave guy I’ve seen in interviews, or listening to on podcasts. You’re a person, just like me.”

“Exactly, so you understand why I might want some privacy.”

“I do.” She nods and finally takes a bite of her food. “I’m sorry if I got a little pissy about it.”

“Don’t be, it’s always an awkward conversation to have.”

“So, how many women do you hook up with exactly? You’re making yourself sound like a player.” She chuckles.

“I mean…I’m a guy who has needs. I’m not gonna lie, I probably do it a little too much, but I don’t usually spend this much time with the person, or if I do…well…it’s not usually like this.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to actually have a conversation with you.” He shrugs. “You peaked my interest.”

“Clearly.” She smirks.

“At least I’ve never rubbed one out to the thought of a famous person.” He smirks back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you consider yourself famous?” She grins at him. “And I haven’t rubbed one out, it’s usually just a dream. Don’t flatter yourself, Harry.” She shakes her head.

“My bad, so I’ll just assume you get that wet for every guy you hook up with?”

Where was this conversation going, and why was it happening in such a public place? Was he trying to rile her up?

“I don’t think this is appropriate to talk about right now.” She whispers harshly.

He smirks and continues eating. They look at each other occasionally as they eat. The waitress comes over with the bill, and Harry throws some cash down on the table.

“Let me pay the tip at least.” She says, reaching for her purse.

“Don’t be silly, I put plenty down for the tip. I’ve got it.” He puts his hand over hers. “Seems like the rain’s stopped, wanna walk back?”

“Do you not need to be anywhere?”

“Nope.” He smiles. “Today’s my free day, isn’t that nice? I’ve got a plane to catch tomorrow morning, and that’s all I have to worry about. So, I’m more than happy to walk you back home.”

She nods and follows him out of the diner.

“So, do I only get your email, or do I get your number too?”

“Why, so you can hit me up whenever you’re in the city?”

“Precisely.” He nudges her as she laughs. “Come on, I gave you mine.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t even look…I would have been so embarrassed, you would have forgotten all about me. I don’t even know if I would have even had the courage to message you.”

“I wouldn’t have forgotten you.”

“Did you manager know you just gave your number out like that?”

“God no, he’d murder me.” Harry chuckles. “Jeff’s great, but he’s way too serious.”

“So, maybe I’ll message you sometime.”

“I prefer chatting on the phone, to be honest.”

“Why’s that?”

“Anyone can send a text, but a phone is, like, I don’t know, it’s romantic.”

“Romantic?”

“Yeah, like, a phone is something you really need to make time for.”

She pouts at him and looks at him with big eyes. They stop once they’re in front of her building.

“I come back to the city in two weeks, I really would like to see you again.”

“What are you coming back for?”

“Another signing. This one sold out, and I felt bad. I think anyone who wants to see me should.” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t have anything that I do if it weren’t for the people who supported me.”

“That’s sweet.” She smiles. “Okay, I guess we could see each other again.”

“Great, just make sure you call me, okay? Then I can call you, and we’ll just be two people calling each other sometimes.” He blushes.

“Why are you so romantic?” She laughs and wraps her arms around his waist.

“I wish I knew. It’s a blessing and a curse, I think.” He sighs and cups her cheeks. He leans in and kisses her, she happily kisses him back and pulls him closer.

“Do you, um, need to go back to your hotel now?”

“Not necessarily, what’d you have in mind?” He raises an eyebrow at her. She leans up and whispers in his ear, making his cheeks grow hotter. He looks at her, a little stunned. “I definitely have time for that.”

“I figured you would.” She winks at him and yanks him into her building.

She wasn’t ready to let go of him just yet. Everything still felt like a dream, only better. Even when Harry had to go off to his next signing, she slept better than she ever had. She called him late one night, much to his surprise, and they spoke for hours. She didn’t have to listen to the same words over and over to fall asleep, she had him, the real him.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut

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liptonsbabe · 3 years

Text

The light is coming [B.W]

Bill Weasley x Lexington! reader

Summary: The reader wants to leave Beauxbatons attending to her sister’s pleadings to join the Order of the Phoenix. Byron Murphy wants to leave with her and the rumors about the two of them having a romance follows them to England

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: none(?

A/N: Chapter 2 of this new story. I hope you like it! Bla bla bla english not my mother language bla bla, let me know if i screwed something up. Enjoy!

Chapter2: Beauxbatons

You received your sister's desperate letters all the way to your own room at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Your brow couldn't help but twitch at the sight of the dozens of letters crowding your window sill after you had finished teaching your classes for the day.

You let the Tonks family owl get in before it fell from the tenth floor of the castle of how gnarled its wings were. France had turned into a huge fridge in the last few days, so you were surprised that the little grayish owl could carry so many letters tied to its legs in the middle of a blizzard.

The owl let out a whimpering sound as you took it in your arms and, removing the tethers, laid it on your bed near the fire in the fireplace; you scooped some food onto a napkin and walked to your desk to read the correspondence.

Although you were familiar with your older sister's great euphoria when sending letters, you recognized that this time they were not just letters asking you to tell her how things were on the other side of the pond or demanding to know the latest gossip about your love life. No, the letters that your sister Nymphadora had sent you were totally serious, mature and direct; in each and every one of them she asked you for help on her behalf and on behalf of Albus Dumbledore.

Nymphadora asked you to return home even though she knew the reasons why you had decided to leave for France. She demanded your help to put an end to an evil that was plaguing the community and was forcing you to be part of an organization that Dora described as 'The Order of the Phoenix' created and spread by the Hogwarts’ headmaster.

You knew Albus Dumbledore very well, you remembered the man who had visited you at the Tonks' house on your eleventh birthday asking you to join the school he ran. No matter how much he begged you, you never agreed to what he asked, not cause you didn't want to, but because you and your adopted family would be better if you went away from there.

Andromeda Tonks was the mother of a little two-year-old girl when someone knocked on her door in the midst of a blast of icy rain. Opening the door she found to her surprise that a small basket was in front of her feet, soaking wet and holding a rain-soaked baby girl who was crying inconsolably.

"Ted! Come look at this, Ted!" She cried out as she carried the wet baby in her arms who snuggled into her arms as soon as she felt the woman's warmth “For Merlin's sake, Ted!

Her husband ran to the doorway as he carried little Nymphadora, who was hugging a stuffed hippogriff. The man stopped in front of his wife, staring in amazement at the gift that had been left in front of their house.

"It's a baby, Ted! Someone has left their baby here and in the middle of a storm!"

"There's got to be a note" Reasoned her husband, shaking with fright "If there isn't, maybe... maybe she was left here by mistake and we'll have to look for her parents.I s there a note? What does it say?"

The note Ted Tonks was referring to was nothing more than a piece of parchment worn and almost undone by the water in the basket. Andromeda held it up to the light to decipher the message, but all she could read was: "HER NAME IS (Y/N)". The message was accompanied only by a golden locket that had the image of a clay pot with hands that molded it; on the back were the initials '(Y/N) and an S at the end. Andromeda didn’t understand why.

Even with all that, they decided that they would keep little (Y/N) Lexington -that was the word that was engraved on the basket, with which Andromeda concluded that that must be your last name- at least until your real parents came back claiming that everything had been a big mistake. Years passed and no one went in search of you.

You caressed the necklace slowly, remembering the story your mother Andromeda told you, always telling you that, even though you were not her biological daughter, she loved you as much as if you were, and that Dora loved you as if you were her sister. So, you felt the need to help her in everything your sister asked you.

Your powers were strange, no one knew what they were due to, but the Tonks family never wondered even when they appeared out of nowhere, at five years of age and after having seriously injured Nymphadora. You decided it was best to leave for France and learn to use your powers away from your family.

Now you didn't know if Madame Maxime would let you go back home, after all, you had thought of quitting being a teacher to devote yourself fully to be an auror because for that you had studied day and night until exhaustion, however your intentions had been an enigma for Madame Maxime, who flatly refused to let you abandon your classes of defense against the dark arts. But, if Dora needed you, you had to be there, because there was nothing you wouldn't do for your sister.

Folding each of the letters, you approached your bed and with your wand made all your clothes fly out of the closet until they dropped into the open suitcase that rested under your chest of drawers. You deftly closed the latch and made it become the size of a coin, loading it into your front pocket. You opened the door and ran down the stairs.

You greeted every student you came across and even talked to each of them on your way to the principal's office. You started running, thinking that you had to be that very day at the address Dora had attached to you in the last letter she sent. You fixed your hair before you reached the office and knocked three times on the door. A light voice gave you the pass on the other side and you rushed in.

“Excusez moi madame” you said as you saw the headmistress sitting in front of her desk. On the other side sat a man you recognized as Byron Murphy, a senior auror who worked as an assistant teacher of defense against the dark arts. You frowned after Byron smiled at you" I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I need to talk to you about something important.

"What is it, Professor?"

"I... well" You cleared your throat, looking down at your shoes "You see, my sister has written to me from England as a matter of urgency and she asked me to return home immediately”

"C'est du jamais vu!"Shouted the woman, kicking her desk. Byron jumped in his place "This must be a joke. Just today my two defense professors wish to resign, is this some kind of loving decision?”

Your cheeks soon turned into two shiny fresh tomatoes from the embarrassment. Byron looked at you with a raised eyebrow and held out his hand for you to take, wanting to play along with what the headmistress had just said. You shook it off, because you were not indifferent to the gossip going around the school about the two of you.

Byron Murphy would take any opportunity to be near you, and you even thought it was all a plan of the auror when Madame Maxime appointed him as assistant for defense against the dark arts; you soon learned that the class itself was very heavy and that even though you refused to accept Byron's help, you had no choice but to lean on him when things didn't turn out as arranged. Even with all that, the girls came up with that both of you were in a romantic relationship. There was the day you overheard your fourth graders whispering about how they had discovered that you and Professor Byron Murphy were getting married next winter. You punished them with extra homework.

"No, god, it's nothing like that."

"Then what is it?"

"My sister needs me, ma’am. There's.... there's a matter in England that I must help her settle."

"What kind of matter?"

"Uh, well" You knew that the next thing you would say would seriously upset the headmistress, but you had no choice but to be honest and get out of there as soon as possible “She doesn't mention much about the situation, but in every letter she has sent me Albus Dumbledore's name comes up”

There was a long silence that was cut short when the huge headmistress stood up and the chair she was sitting in fell backwards causing a frightening clatter. You took a couple of steps back and tried to keep your hands as close to your wand as possible. Byron got up as well, walked over to you and stood next to you, holding your hand in case the situation got out of hand.

“Albus Dumbledore! That unfortunate little man! I've had enough of him since last year!”

“Are you referring to the Triwizard Tournament?” Byron asked

“Of course that's what I mean! That damned Tournament where Hogwarts had two winners, unfairly of course, but nothing could be done cause the laws of the damned Goblet were clear, weren't they? They didn't accept appeals. And then... what happened to that Diggory boy... what they said about the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.... Albus Dumbledore is a liar!” You closed your eyes as a drop of spittle landed on your cheek. Byron shook his head

“You don't believe in the Dark Lord's return?”

“Of course not!” You both knew that the headmistress was really annoyed as her French accent became even more pronounced. You looked at Byron for a second before looking back at the angry woman “I've read about it in the newspaper, in The Daily Prophet, as they call it, Igor Karkarov has kept me informed of the matter.

“Do you still have contact with that man?”

“Sure do i! He and I have been friends for years and he has been affected by the thing as well. The poor man has had to hide in a hut on the outskirts of Bulgaria from where he has been able to get hold of influences who send him copies of the newspaper every month. Otherwise we would both be in the dark. So i’m very sorry for what i’m about to tell you, Professor Lexington, but I will not accept any kind of resignation on your part.

“Madame, if you'll just let me....”

“Much less when you plan to join Dumbledore's madness. I'm sorry, but you'd better get back to your classes”

The thing was, that the issue was about more than just Dumbledore, it was about protecting your family, your friends and in the worst case scenario, the entire magical community. You may not have been present at Hogwarts a year ago, but you firmly believed what Dora had told you about Cedric Diggory's murder; there was no reason not to believe in the Dark Lord's return, cause even those who were Death Eaters had been disappearing overnight. And you firmly believed in your sister's word, she, being an auror, was aware of the severity of the situation and that's why she was strongly asking you to go back home and help her in any way you could.

No, you couldn't stay at Beauxbatons for a second longer.

"It is a pity that you don’t accept my motives, Madame, but I have already made up my mind. I have packed my bags and will leave immediately with or without your approval" The woman was about to retort, however, you stopped her "I believe in my sister's word and of course I believe in Lord Voldemort's return.

"Don't say his name!" Madame Maxime shrieked, covering her ears. Byron shuddered

"Cedric Diggory shouldn’t have died and we mustn’t stand idly by; there are people out there fighting and dying at the hands of dark magic, spreading fear and starting an internal war that we may never be able to get out of. Desolé, madame, but I cannot stay out of this. I have learned much here, and even managed to control my powers, despite that, i’m loyal to my family and, therefore, i’m loyal to Albus Dumbledore.

You turned around, ready to leave when the giant's powerful voice stopped you.

"Professor Lexington, are you aware that if you leave the school you will never return?"

You looked at her over your shoulder

"Believe me, Madame, if you refuse to believe in the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and try to make others believe it is so, then I have no desire to return."

Leaving the office, you ran down the stairs trying to get to the front door. After all, from France to London wasn't too long a walk, you could just disappear and show up at the place Dora had marked for you. You would if you had the slightest idea where that place was.

A few hurried footsteps followed you, stopping you in front of the main door.

It was Byron, who was carrying a small suitcase on his back.

“Hey, you don't have to run away from me, honey”

“Leave me alone, Byron”

“Well, okay, listen” He grabbed you by the cheeks as you tried to leave the castle. Your eyes met his, noticing how a smile began to form on his lips “What you said to Olympe was wonderful, it really was. And you of all people know that I also believe in the return of you-know-who”

“Do you?”

“Yes. I was about to tell Madame Maxime my reasons to resigning when you arrived”

“What are those reasons?”

Byron smiled sideways, stroking your cheeks.

“I want to fight against Lord Voldemort”

“What”

“Just as you hear, dear. After all, that's our job as Aurors, isn't it? I can't stay in this castle and pretend to be a teacher when they may need me out there. I've heard about the Order of the Phoenix, about Albus Dumbledore, his name is going around the world. So i want to be a part of it too”

“Byron...”

“Just... let me come with you, okay? You'll need all the help you can get”

Byron being an auror of a higher rank made everything easier, because then you would have extra help against the Dark Lord; however, you weren't prepared to be around him any longer than necessary. Byron stroked your cheek and, smiling, he opened the door for you. You sighed, taking his hand to disappear from there together.

#bill weasley #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley x reader #domhnall gleeson #domhnall gleeson imagine #domhnall gleeson x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter cast #charlie weasley #fred weasley imagines #george weasley #george weasley imagine

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stina-is-a-punk-rocker · 3 years

Text

my love-hate relationship with ‘stranger things 3’

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe. Inconsolable were the Harringroves; So beware the spoilers that come thine way. - Lewis Carrol, at some point

[Picture me holding up a ‘YOU SUCK/YOU RULE’ board. Chunks of my hair are missing.]

PROS:

· So much was going on at any given moment. It was a rollercoaster on an acid trip in the middle of a South Asian wedding after 2PM.

· It feels like the writers genuinely had fun with this season; the Big Bad was (ironically, considering its origins) fresh, the storylines went every direction imaginable- and beyond- and who the fuck cares about connecting all the threads when it’s so damn entertaining?

· Steve Harrington in a dorky sailor’s costume.

· Steve Harrington never changing out of said dorky sailor’s costume for the entire season.

· Robin Buckley in a dorky sailor’s costume.

· Robin Buckley in general.

· Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley in dorky sailor’s costumes, together.

· Straightbaiting.

· Steve finally getting a friend who doesn’t make him act like a douche / doesn’t dump him for a guy who creeped on them / has hit puberty.

· Male-female friendships that don’t end up in boning.

· Steve finally winning a fight.

· Dustin making a big deal out of this.

· Erica ‘You can’t spell America without Erica’ Sinclair.

· Hopper being El’s legal father.

· El breaking up with Mike.

· Female friendships that do not involve one being eaten alive by a monster from another dimension.

· Max giving El a makeover.

· Gratuitous references to the 80s.

· Will Byers.

· Me adopting Will Byers.

· On the subject of Will Byers- I know a lot of you headcanon gay Will, but consider: ace/aro Will.

· Nancy’s new haircut.

· Karen Wheeler being a decent mother to her daughter instead of hooking up with a boy the same age as her aforementioned daughter (the bar is literally so low for this woman, the only way to go is up).

· Heather Holloway, my girl in red.

· Carnivals.

· The Fourth of July.

· Carnivals on the Fourth of July.

· Billy’s mullet.

· Billy’s blue, blue eyes.

· Billy in a wifebeater and blue, blue jeans.

· Billy reminding me of multiple Taylor Swift songs.

· Billy getting possessed.

· Billy’s moral compass making a cameo.

· Billy dying right afterwards. (me, watching Billy’s childhood trauma: We saw this with Christian Grey, we saw it with Hardin Whoeverthefuck; they’re not gonna give him a redemption arc, are they? me, watching Billy get punctured like shishkebab: GIVE HIM THE GODDAMN REDEMPTION ARC.)

· Billy would not be amused with the existence of tentacle hentai.

· This dead meme that took me far too long to make that I’m far too proud of:

Graphic designing is my passion.

· Dustin and Suzie-not-Q’s duet trumping every Disney musical in existence.

· The dog. I don’t remember seeing it, but there must’ve been at least one.

CONS:

· The sheer secondhand embarrassment I got from the first episode alone. I had to leave my room multiple times to get a breather; it was an effort to convince myself to take the stairs instead of flinging myself off the goddamn balcony.

· Exploding into smithereens like one of those rats >>>>> seeing children making out.

· El and Mike not staying broken up.

· Evil Russians.

· Not being able to take a Russian course because I’m already falling behind on my Spanish and Italian and the Duolingo owl being a bitch about it.

· The US military getting later than my dad picking me up after school.

· The realization that Dad’s still going to be late as ever because I never fucking learned to drive.

· The pandemic that got in the way of my driving lessons.

· Billy’s Camaro- second to only the locker room for the most popular hookup spot in Harringrove fics- getting banged up.

· Should I Stay or Should I Go by The Clash not making an appearance.

· All the time I spent wondering which writer has a kink for seeing Joe Keery’s face in injury makeup because Steve Harrington gets the living daylights knocked out of him every season.

· ‘Injury makeup’ being something I made up on the spot because I don’t know what else to call it.

· The Coca-Cola product placements.

· Coca-Cola and Pepsi tasting the same to me.

· “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” Mike, you’re, like, 12.

· Erica Sinclair going from funny to insufferable every time I blink.

· Billy getting skewered in the middle of his character arc.

· El knowing way too much for a girl who didn’t know what a friend was in the first season.

· Steve being too much of a comic relief and not enough of a person.

· Hopper being whatever the hell he was for this entire season. He was so jarringly out of character that they should’ve just given him another name and made him Hopper’s psycho twin or something.

· I heard somewhere that Maya Hawke had to ask for her character to be queer… but they’re perfectly fine with having middle-aged, married women lust over a teenager??? I reiterate, the bar is so fucking low, yet somehow the gays are below even that???

· My perseverance about making shitty memes.

#stranger things #stranger things 3 #robin buckley #steve harrington #billy hargrove #will byers #dustin henderson #harringrove #mike wheeler #eleven stranger things #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #the duffer brothers #80s #horror #scifi #what the fuck did i just watch

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years

Text

“All you have to do is ask.” Chapter 9 - [Reid x Reader]

previous chapter // series index // next chapter

Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid is one of the most brilliant men in the entire world...but even geniuses can be dumbasses. Once he realizes he’s made the biggest mistake of his life, the next step is getting Reader to forgive him.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Rating: Mature

Category: Angst. but then the fluff we all need.

Content Warning: Talk of drug addiction, mentions of injuries, angst.

Word Count: 9.4k for Chapter 9

A/n: I’m sorry I didn’t get this out as quickly as I wanted; I know I broke your hearts in chapter 8. So, please let me and Dr. Reid put them back together. Thank you for sticking with me. 💖 Chapter 10 returns to the smut we all signed up for.

-- Chapter 9 - “You know why.” --

Out of all the compliments I've received in my life, "you're such a strong person" is the one I have gotten the most often.

I was “so strong” for busting my ass through college with dreams of going to the FBI.

My friends told me I was “so strong” when I gave myself a few days to lay around and cry about my ex before I bottled it all up and moved forward.

Everyone said I was just “so strong” for joining the FBI and finishing in the top of my class at the academy.

And when I told everyone I was a profiler that hunted the most dangerous monsters on the planet? I was both “so strong, so brave.”

It’s a nice compliment to receive, but I have never really agreed with it. I’ve never really felt strong. I've always felt resilient. The two words have always felt very different to me. It took enormous amounts of strength to go to college, join the FBI, and then become a member of one of the most prestigious units; but eventually, that strength fades, or it just tires out. Resilience came when the strength was gone when the fight had left your body, but you couldn’t give in, you would endure this pain and any pain after it…because that’s just who you are.

It didn’t take strength to leave the hospital 3 days after Spencer Reid broke my heart. It didn’t take strength to go back to the same apartment where I could feel echoes of him in every room. It didn’t even take strength to not break down and cry.

I kept going because I had to. Because I was resilient.

“You sure you got everything you need, mama?” Morgan had been annoyingly thorough in his duties today; Garcia had assigned him to be the person who brought me home and got me settled.

I offered him a wan smile. “I’m fine, Derek. It’s just a gunshot wound. I’m actually surprised how well I’m feeling.” Not good. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel ‘good’ again.

He didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? Because the last thing I need is Garcia to throw one of her damn shoes at me again. Those things are heavy, y/n.”

I chuckled at him. “Well, you won’t get maimed on my account. I’m really okay.”

Morgan regarded me from his position by the door, his eyes ran over everything from the exhaustion on my face to my arm that was in a sling; he took note of everything before he sighed heavily. “I know it’s not my place to say but…”

“Then don’t say it, Derek.” I brought my gaze up to his, my eyes were pleading. “Please, just don’t say it.”

Reluctantly he nodded. “You call any of us if you need anything.”

I nodded. Because I would call any of them if I needed anything…any of them except the one person I really wished I could call.

My life went on like that for a time. On my first night home, Rossi had flowers delivered. On my second night home, JJ came by to bring me groceries. On my third night home Emily came by and helped me wash my hair in the sink because I couldn’t lift my arm yet. On my fourth night home Garcia came over with a stack of action movies and popcorn. I didn’t ask why she brought mindless action movies; I knew why, and I was grateful.

On my fifth day home, the team left on a case. The in-person visits slowed down a lot after that, much to my relief. I loved them all but they're profilers and I was so tired of pretending to be strong when the only reason I was still standing was because I was too fucking stubborn to fall down.

But still, Garcia would schedule the odd visitor every now and then to come to check on me; usually either her, JJ, or Emily. No one ever brought up Reid, and I was very careful not to ask about him. I don't know what they knew and what they didn't…but I just couldn’t talk about it.

I was cleared to go back to work on the second Tuesday after my injury, but I would still be on desk duty until I was 4 weeks out. I had sent Hotch an e-mail on that second Tuesday morning and requested to use some personal time, just until the end of the following week. His response was, “Whatever you need.”

He didn't respond to the e-mail I sent yesterday. The e-mail I wasn't even sure I wanted to send but knew I had to. I had submitted a hardship transfer request.

“Then maybe you should reevaluate your place in this team,” Reid had said to me. Maybe he was right. I had thought my home was with the family inside the BAU…but I had also thought Spencer Reid wanted my heart.

“But I think your judgment has been compromised.” Maybe my judgment was never that good to begin with.

Twenty-four days after I was shot and two after I requested my transfer there was a knock on my door. Scheduled visits weren’t a thing anymore. Only Garcia had been coming by; Emily and JJ would send me texts, and Morgan drove me to physical therapy a few times but that was it. So, I was very surprised when I heard a sharp knock at my door at 2 pm that Friday afternoon.

I opened the door only to find the last face I expected to see.

“Hotch,” I said, my brows drawing together.

He just gave me a rare smile. “Not who you were expecting?”

“It’s not that you’re not who I was expecting,” I began carefully. “It’s just that…when I think of cheerful visitors coming to surround me with rainbows and sunshine…I don’t think of you, boss man.”

He scoffed, which I had learned was his version of a chuckle. “Garcia is busy. So, can I come in?”

I waved my arm, offering him inside.

He surveyed my apartment; he’d never been here. None of the team had ever been here before- Stop. Don’t think about it.

“How have you been?”

I gave him a very sour look. “Peachy with a side of keen, Hotch. But that’s not why you’re here.”

He didn’t look abashed in the slightest. “You’re right. That’s not why I’m here.”

We both sat on my couch; I kept my gaze on my hands, but I felt his eyes on me.

“Why are you requesting a hardship transfer?”

I was prepared for this question. “Because there is a personal issue within my team that affects me; I can no longer be an effective agent of the FBI in this unit.”

Hotch gave me an almost smile. “That’s a very political answer.”

“It’s the truth.”

“It might be.” He sounded so thoughtful I turned to look at him. We were both profilers, but Hotch was in charge for a reason; that man saw things in ways I don’t think any of us did. “The reason might also be that Reid is a dumb ass.”

I was in no way prepared for that statement to come out of my boss’s mouth. A laugh, the first real laugh I had had in almost 25 days, burst out of me before I could clap my hand over my mouth.

He did smile then. It was a soft, sad smile. “I figured that’s what it was.”

“He’s a genius, Hotch.”

“And he’s also proof geniuses can be dumbasses.”

That one got a small chuckle out of me. “I didn’t know you were funny.”

“I have my moments,” he said dryly.

I took a deep breath, my eyes moving around my apartment, searching for something to focus on. “I don’t know what you know, I don’t know what any of you know…but I can’t stay. Not like this.”

The older man considered me for a moment, planning out his next words. I knew that the team knew that Reid and I had been…something. I hadn’t asked what they knew; I couldn’t ask.

Hotch let out a long sigh, his shoulders dropping before he spoke again. "Hayley had an affair."

…I have no idea how I’m supposed to respond to that. “I’m sorry, Hotch.”

He just nodded, his gaze sort of far off. “The team was working a case in Milwaukee; it was right before you joined. I was considering transferring; it was right before Gideon left. I knew it, she knew I knew it. I think that was sort of the beginning of the end for us.”

I just stared at him. Hotch didn’t talk about personal things.

He continued on. “It was never really brought up again until the divorce. You think divorce will end your fights…it never works out that way.” Hotch let out another sigh. “Anyway, I think about this one specific fight a lot now. I just…She was so fucking cruel, y/l/n. She said things she knew would hurt me.”

You can’t call a dead woman a cunt, y/n. You just can’t.

“I think about it so much now because I know she lashed out because I hurt her and she was scared. I picked my job over her and Jack. And she’s right…I did.”

Enlightenment finally dawned on me.

“Hotch, I see where you’re going but it’s different,” I stressed. “Protecting the team is my job. I protected a member of my team.”

He just nodded, his eyes never leaving my face. “You also jumped in front of a bullet for a man who is in love with you, who now thinks it’s his fault you got hurt.”

“He is not in love with me!” I interrupted, not that Hotch seemed to care.

“And you also told him you loved him, for what I suspect was the first time, while we all thought you were dying.”

Hold the fuck up. “You heard me? Spencer heard me?!”

Hotch nodded his head solemnly. “Rossi figured he hadn’t told you. He was inconsolable on the way to the hospital. He rode with you in the ambulance. Morgan had to restrain him when you were taken into surgery.” I felt my lungs seize, there was no more air in the room. “His legs gave out from under him when the doctor told us you made it. He was in your room right before you woke up. He ran out when your heart rate spiked.”

That…that can’t be right. “I…I don’t know what happened while I was under, but you weren’t there. You didn’t hear what he said to me, Aaron.”

“You’re right,” he said softly. “I wasn’t, but I have been around him every day since you were injured. I’ve known him for years, y/n. He’s hurting…because he’s a dumbass.”

I tried to focus on Hotch’s words, I really did. But one thing kept playing over and over in my head. That asshole heard me. He lied to me.

-- Spencer POV –

“Because I love you.”

The worst thing about having an eidetic memory is that I never forgot anything. I remember the crushing disappointment I felt on my 8th birthday when my dad didn’t call. I remember how gutted I felt when I found Gideon’s letter in his cabin. I remember the self-loathing I felt when Emily was beaten by a deranged cult leader at Liberty Ranch because she didn’t think I could handle it.

I could remember every single crushing moment of my life with absolute clarity, including the moment when I told y/n I didn’t love her. I could see every detail of her face in that moment whenever I closed my eyes. How pain covered her face for just a moment before it went blank.

Her face in that moment was all I saw when I was awake, but what I saw at night may have been worse. I saw her happy. I saw her laughing at some joke Morgan made. I saw her smiling at me while I explained the scientific impossibilities of the show we were watching on her couch. I saw how thoughtful she’d looked before she kissed me for the first time.

In the 24 days, 21 hours, and 16 minutes since I made the most painful decision of my life, I had regretted it and rethought it countless times. But then I remembered how her eyes fluttered closed that day, how her blood ran out of her body and down my arms, no matter how hard I pressed on the wound. I remembered how it felt to think I was going to lose her.

The members of my team were all furious with me for my decision; I even felt tension from Rossi and Hotch, though it was more subtle. Y/n hadn’t been with our team long, but she had already carved out a place in everyone’s heart…and she’d carved out all of my heart; now it was filled with almost nothing but her. At first, it was just Morgan who was pissed at me, then Emily started becoming frustrated, even JJ stopped inviting me over for dinner as much. They were all still my friends, but everything felt different.

I hadn't realized there was a giant problem until the last person I ever expected to be mad at me finally snapped. We were in the conference room discussing our last case when I had asked Garcia a question. Looking back, I can see it was a dumb question; Garcia cross-referenced everything and dug into people's lives before we even had a chance to ask. But even my stupid question hadn’t warranted her response.

“Garcia, do you know any of the victim’s extended families have any connections to one another? Even distantly.”

She had clicked her tongue against her teeth, her shoulders stiffening. “Of course I have, Reid. That’s a stupid question…but I guess we should expect stupid questions from you now. Since you’ve suddenly become an-“

“Garcia,” Hotch warned.

“Sorry, sir.” She let out a breath.

“Yes, Dr. Reid, I have checked and found no apparent connections.

She’d been avoiding me ever since.

I knew that I had made a mess of things, but the team just didn't understand. They'd only felt her warmth from afar; I'd actually got to be a part of it. They didn't know how her feet were always cold and how she'd shove them under my leg while we watched TV. They didn't know that she mumbled in her sleep sometimes, or when she was really stressed about a case, she'd grind her teeth. The pain I felt now was indescribable, but I couldn't live with losing her.

We’d gotten back home from a case earlier this morning, Hotch let us all go home around noon. Usually, he'd make us stay and finish our paperwork, but he said he had "something" he had to take care of.

Not being at work was bittersweet. Because work reminded me of her, but at least I could occupy my mind with other things; when I was home, she surrounded me. I couldn’t lay in my bed without imagining her beside me. The look on her face when she told me she was ready to be with me. For the first few days after I could still smell her shampoo on my pillow. That was long gone now.

It was just after 2 pm when there was a very loud knock on my door.

“Open up, dumbass!’

What is Morgan doing here? I got up from my couch to open my door. Morgan was in the same clothes he wore to work, he didn't look injured, but his jaw was set, his teeth clenched together. Uh oh.

“Why are you here?” I sighed. I already knew why he was here.

“I’m here,” he began, shoving his way into my apartment. “To see why you’re still being a dumbass.”

I didn’t bother correcting him. Maybe I am a dumbass.

“Morgan-“

“Nu-uh. You sit your little scrawny ass down and listen to me.”

I’m not that scrawny, I thought grumpily while I sat down.

He put his hands on his hips, coming to stand in front of me. “Reid, what are you doing man?”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled.

“Well, I’ll tell you what the fuck you’re doing, Pretty Boy. You know, we were all content to let you flounder along for a while longer. You’re smart, you’d figure it out. But that was before y/n submitted a request for a hardship transfer.”

My shoulders stiffened. I had told her to rethink her place on the team, but I didn’t mean leave it. “What? When?”

“I’m not sure when,” he replied. “Hotch is at her apartment now trying to talk her out of it.”

So that was his important business.

“Look, kid.” He came to sit beside me on the couch. “I know you’re scared. I know you almost lost her, and you couldn’t bear that. But you’re losing her now too, man!’

“It’s different, Morgan,” I protested.

“Yeah, it is different, because you don’t have to lose her! You didn’t see her when she came home from the hospital. She wasn’t even sad, Reid. She was numb. We all knew she had walls up before…but these new walls, man? They make the old ones look like nothing.”

I put my hands together, lacing my fingers tightly. “But-“

Morgan stood up. “No, Reid! No! No buts. I understand that you’re hurting, believe me. But did you ever stop to use that big ass brain of yours to think for a second that you’re hurting her too?!”

“I know I’m hurting her, Morgan,” I said hotly. “I know! But it’s better she’s hurt like this for a little while then die over me!”

“Oh, come on, kid! You can’t make that choice for her! That’s not how love works!” He let out a sigh. “You’re acting like a coward, Spencer. And that’s not the kind of man you are.”

It’s exactly the type of man I am. “Morgan, she’s…she’s everything to me. She’s the sun at the center of my universe. I can’t let her disappear.”

“Okay, okay,” Morgan nodded, considering me. “Now, I’m not a genius but I do know some stuff after hanging around your ass for all these years. The universe would fall apart without the sun. But…what happens if the sun dims?”

“What?” My heart refused to work when I processed his words.

“You heard me. What happens to the universe when the sun dims? It’s still there, but it’s nowhere near as bright anymore. Because she may be the center of your universe but she’s still a part of a lot of other people’s…I don’t know, galaxy or some shit.” Morgan flicked his hand around to gesture at nothing, like this somehow proved his point.

“Spencer. I know you’re scared. I get it. But you’re making the choice for her. You lied to her, man. You got her to let you in and then you fucking shut her out when you get scared! Do you think she wasn’t scared to let you in in the first place? She’s never going to be totally free of danger, Reid. That’s part of what makes her who she is; she is always going to put herself at risk to help people, we all are! It’s why we’re on the same fucking team!”

The impact of Morgan’s words was a blow to the gut. What if I wasn’t keeping her safe? What if I was putting her through this…because I was afraid? Did I push her away from me for her? Or did I-

“Oh my god. I’m a dumbass.”

Morgan threw his hands in the air before slapping them against his hips.

“I fucked up.”

Morgan opened his eyes very wide and tilted his head down in a universally recognized expression of “you think, dumbass?”.

“What do I do?”

“You apologize, Reid! You go over to her house and you beg for forgiveness.”

My palms were starting to sweat. “What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

Morgan shrugged. “Then at least you tried, man.”

“Will you give me a ride?”

His face split into a wide smile. “There’s the genius! Let’s go!”

-- Reader’s POV --

It was just after 4 pm when there was another sharp knock on my door. I picked up the remote to pause the TV show I wasn’t watching; I had just needed some background noise. With a huff, I pulled myself off the couch and started shuffling towards the door. Hotch hadn’t been gone long, so I just figured maybe he’d come back to impart more wisdom on me.

It wasn’t Hotch. My heart stuttered when I saw that mop of curly brown hair out of my door’s peephole.

He knocked again, more hesitantly than before. “Y/n,” he called. “I know I don’t have any right to ask. But…I need to talk to you.”

My eyebrows drew together in confusion. What could you possibly have to say to me?

I cleared my throat. “Is something wrong?”

I saw his head snap up; his eyes fixed on the peephole on my door. “Yes. Everything is wrong.”

Oh. “Are…are you alright?”

“No.” His answer was simple and firm. “I know I don’t deserve anything from you…but, please, y/n.”

Taking a deep breath, I cracked open my door. “What do you want, Reid?”

I only allowed a tiny sliver of my face to be seen through the door. “C-can I come in?”

“I…I don’t know,” I mumbled. You’re still everywhere. If I let you in now…how will you ever fade?

Reid just nodded. “I understand. I just…I owe you an apology. I owe you so many apologies.”

I swallowed; my throat suddenly coated in sandpaper. “Reid, I don’t…you don’t…”

His eyes never left mine; he was leaving the choice up to me. “I don’t have to come in. I’ll talk to you through your door. Or I can talk to you over the phone. I’ll send you letters if that is easier. Just…please say you’ll talk to me?”

Very, very slowly, I eased the door open. He was cautious when he walked in, his hands stuffed into his pants pockets. “You don’t have to-“

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted. “That day in my apartment… I asked you not to lie to me. And I’ve done nothing but lie to you for the past 24 days, 22 hours, and 30 minutes.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“I already know you heard me, Reid.”

He just nodded. “That’s one of the things I lied about. But it’s not all. It’s not even close to all. I told you my feelings changed, and they didn’t. They haven’t. I still feel the exact same way that I always have. I’m so sorry I even let you think that I didn’t l-“

“Stop.” I wrapped my arms around my middle. “I-I can’t. You…you can’t say that.” I will break if you say that.

His hands came out of his pockets, his arms outstretched, palms facing me; like I was a wild animal he was trying not to startle. “I won’t, I won’t. I’m sorry. I won’t say it until you're ready to hear it if you're ever ready to hear it. But…you have to know why.”

My teeth dug into my bottom lip; my eyes averted from him. “Why what?”

“Why I…Y/n, I just…I thought that I was protecting you.”

My face fell into a frown. “Protecting me from what?”

He stuffed his hands back into his pockets. “From me.” I opened my mouth to say something, but he hurried on. “I know I contribute to the team in some ways, but I also know other people have to pick up my slack sometimes. I just…I know members of the team have gotten hurt protecting me before.” He swallowed, his eyes blinking rapidly. “I couldn’t let you get hurt trying to protect me too. I’m not worth it.”

I felt anger start to burn in my stomach. “You don’t get to make those sorts of choices for people, Reid.”

He nodded. “I know. I was wrong.” He squared his slim shoulders, pulling his hands out of his pockets to rest them at his sides. “I fucked up. I’ve made the biggest mistake I have ever made in my entire life. And I only know one way to fix mistakes this big.” He paused, his throat working when he swallowed. “In Narcotics Anonymous the hardest steps for a lot of people are steps 8 and 9. Step 8 is acknowledging that our actions have caused pain and we need to make amends. Step 9 is making those amends and making them in a way that won’t hurt anyone.”

Hands back in his pockets, he took a hesitant step towards me. “I promise, y/n, I will never hurt you again. This isn’t an excuse, but I was so…I was so scared. I thought that…I thought that your injury was my fault. And I thought if I distanced you from such a…a colossal fuck up like me that you’d be safer.”

My body started to shake, but I wouldn’t let any tears fall. I couldn’t. If the dam broke now, I don’t know that I’d be able to put it back in place.

“Y/n, I don’t deserve the opportunity to make amends to you. But…if you’ll let me, I’d like to try. You’re…you’re everything, y/n. Everything. I even lied before when I said you were sunshine and warmth. You’re so much more than that.”

I heard the tears in his voice, but I couldn’t look at him. I’d break if I looked at him.

“You’re the sun. You’re the center of my universe. And I thought I was keeping you safe, but…I didn’t give you the choice. I took your choice away from you when you’ve always given me a choice in everything.”

I moved my eyes upwards to look at the ceiling, crossing my arms over my chest, my hands rubbing over my upper arms. “I don’t-I don’t know what you want me to say, Reid.”

I heard his shoes on my floor; I felt the air shift in the room when he took a step closer to me. “Just…Just say you’ll…that you’ll at least wait before you push your transfer through. That you’ll let me try to fix this, even though I don’t deserve it.”

A humorless laugh left my throat. “I already told Hotch to hold my transfer request.”

His voice cracked when he spoke again. “You did? When?”

“He came by about an hour ago.” I finally, finally looked at him. I saw his glassy eyes, his wild hair, and the clear pain mixed with a spark of hope on his face. He wasn’t my boy, not anymore. But…goddamnit. “He said…He said you were being a dumbass.”

Reid laughed a bit at that. “That seems to be the general consensus.”

“He asked me to give it some time. To see if working with the team again would actually be a hardship. My first day back is Monday, and I’m cleared to go back on active duty Wednesday.”

He shifted, his hands coming up to push is hair out of his face. “So, you’ll be back on Monday?”

"That's the plan," I said softly. "But…Reid, I don't-I don't know if I can…"

“I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m just asking you to let me try to make amends for this.”

I brought my hand up to rub my forehead. “What is your goal here, Reid? What do you want?”

His face was as open as I’d ever seen it, his eyes were wide, and his lips were parted. “I want to go back to the moment you started to wake up in the hospital. I want to hold your hand and tell you how much I” he cut himself off, which I was grateful for. “And I want to be the one that drove you home. I want to be the one that helped you wash your hair. I want to be the one that sat on your couch and watched movies with you.” He sighed, his eyes shifting to the side. “But I can’t have any of that. Morgan came by my apartment around the same time Hotch was here…he told me that I was hurting the thing I was trying so hard to protect. And he said you were building a wall around yourself.

Dr. Spencer Reid brought those brown eyes back over to meet mine. “I want you to let me try to knock down that wall again.”

My voice was soft, I could feel my chin trembling, my nails were digging into my arms. “But why?”

For the first time since he entered my apartment, he smiled. It was small but overwhelmingly warm. “You know why.”

I felt something pierce my heart; it was small and sharp, both painful and soothing at the same time. “Reid…I…I don’t know if I can…I don’t know…”

“You don’t have to know,” the man said simply. “You just have to be willing to let me try.”

“But they’re just words, Reid. They’re just words. How am I supposed to believe that you won’t do this again the next time I get injured? Because I can handle being injured…but you gutted me.” I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, using the pain to help me focus. I couldn’t let the dam break.

“They’re not just words,” he whispered. “I’ll prove it, y/n. I promise.”

I took a very shaky breath, not making an attempt to hide my pain. “I gave you everything, every single part of me and you brushed me aside. You left me in agony when I needed you.”

My choked words lashed at him, but he just took it with a nod. “I know. I don’t deserve another chance. I have no right after what I’ve done. What I’m asking for isn’t fair…but I have to ask. Please?”

“Okay.”

“What?” His words were soft, but the smile that spread over his face was the brightest thing I had ever seen.

I huffed. “You heard me. Don’t push it.”

‘Okay.” He smiled at me again as he made his way around my body, heading for my door. I wrapped my arms tighter around myself like I could somehow physically hold myself together. I heard the lock turn and the door pull open; I heard his feet shuffle through the doorway…before he paused. “Thank you, y/n.” The door clicked shut softly, and I finally allowed myself to breathe.

I wasn’t strong, I really wasn’t. Because if I was strong, I wouldn’t have felt so fucking hopeful.

After my conversation with Hotch yesterday, and my surprise visit from Reid last night, I expected my Saturday to be fairly uneventful. Which is why I wasn’t expecting a knock on my door at 8 pm that night.

“Who the fuck is it now?” I muttered, sighing with exasperation.

I thought Hotch was the most unexpected person I would ever see at my door unannounced, but this one caught me more off guard for so. I opened the door to see the bright smiling face of a young man in a delivery uniform. “Y/n y/l/n?” He asked politely.

“…Yes?”

He handed me a plastic bag with styrofoam containers inside. “Here you go. The bill has already been taken care of. Have a good night, ma’am!”

He was already halfway down the hall before I realized what was happening. “Wait, I didn’t order anything,” I called.

"I know, ma'am," he turned, walking backward as he spoke. "The order was placed in the store. A man came by and ordered the food, left a note to put in the bag, and told me to leave before you had a chance to refuse it." He smiled sheepishly at me. "I'm sorry, he gave me a really good tip. Have a good night!"

Frowning, I shut my door and moved into my kitchen, setting the bag on the counter. Sure enough, there was a note on top of the container.

“I know it’s your favorite. S.R.”

The thing about Reid is he had the worst handwriting I had ever seen. Even if I hadn’t suspected this was from him and he hadn’t signed the note, the handwriting would have given it away.

I went into my living room and snatched my phone off the couch before I quickly fired off a text.

“Why did you have dinner delivered to my house?”

His response came a moment later. “You know why.”

On Sunday morning, I had one of my last physical therapy appointments. I hadn't sustained any permanent damage to my left shoulder from the bullet. The only real issue was the healing muscle and the artery that was nicked. Even though I was right-handed, it was important in my line of work that I did not lose any strength in my left arm. The physical therapist had made an exception to see me on the weekend since my first day back at work was tomorrow.

The thought of going back to work made me incredibly nervous. I wasn't sure how things would be different. Not only did I have to worry about my relationship with Reid, but I also had to worry about how it would affect the team. I knew they all cared about me…but Reid had been a part of their family much longer than I had. Hotch’s visit on Friday meant a lot to me; I don’t think I would have been able to come back to work without it.

Despite my nerves, after being home on my couch for almost a month, I was itching to get back to doing the work I loved. I had already passed my post-injury psychiatric evaluation, which was pointless anyway as the BAU wrote the questions, but now with this approval from the physical therapist, I would only be on desk duty for 2 days once I returned.

I was so caught up in thought when I got to my apartment that I almost missed the paper taped to the front of my door. It was an envelope that looked some sort of parchment. If the type of paper didn’t give away the sender, the messy way my name was written on the front certainly did.

Calm down, y/n, I thought, reaching up to pluck the note from the door. It’s just a piece of paper. I knew my fear was irrational but trusting him after everything that had happened was terrifying. Because despite my best instincts, I wanted to trust him.

Inside the envelope was a letter, it wasn’t written on standard paper; but, nothing about the man it was from was ever standard.

“Y/n,

Before my mother’s schizophrenia became as bad as it is now, she used to read to me all the time. She was a professor of 15th-century literature. My love of reading came from her. Her favorite author is Margery Kempe; and when I was thinking about what I wanted to say to you, one quote in particular from Kempe kept coming to mind.

‘Patience is more worthy than miracle-working’.

The fact that you’ve given me even the slightest chance to apologize to you is the closest thing to a miracle I’ve ever seen. It's not a gift I'm going to take lightly. I know this is so incredibly hard for you. I know tomorrow is going to be hard for you, but I don't want you to feel like you're being forced to do anything before you're ready. I want to make amends, or at least try to, but I don't want to cause you any more pain.

You were patient with me in the beginning of our relationship; you were so unbelievably kind and generous – I think those are the things that made me…feel how I do now. I just want you to know that I’m prepared to be patient too. I never expected you to forgive me, and on the off chance you did, I knew it wouldn’t come easily.

I’d wait for you forever, y/n.

I don’t want to go against your wishes, but I want you to know that I’m ready. I’m ready to tell you now and every moment after for the rest of my life. All you have to do is ask and I’ll never stop telling you what you mean to me.

- Spencer”

My hands shook as I refolded the letter, slipping it back inside the envelope. I was dialing his number before I was even fully aware of what I was doing.

“Hello?” His voice sounded slightly apprehensive, almost shy.

“I got your letter,” I said quietly.

“I-I…I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

I let out a sigh. “No, Reid. You didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“You’ve not called me Spencer since…”

“I’m not there yet.” I closed my eyes when I said it; even now…I didn’t want to hurt him. I’m just not there yet.

I heard him shift around on the other end of the line. “I know. You don’t have to be. I just…I just wanted to tell you how I feel.”

“And send me dinner,” I added dryly. He laughed softly before I asked what I really wanted to know. “Reid…how have you been?” I ran my hand over my forehead. “I mean…before I was…before I was shot I know you were struggling with-“

“Ah,” he mumbled when the realization hit him. “It wasn’t easy…it hasn’t been easy. I went to a lot of meetings after you were…And I spent a lot of time on JJ’s couch trying to convince her and myself that I was doing the right thing by pushing you away.”

I flexed the fingers of my left hand, my posture shifting while he spoke. “But you haven’t…I didn’t make…”

“Y/n,” he said, his voice was so fucking gentle that it almost shattered me. “I haven’t. And even if I did, it wouldn’t have been your fault. No bad choice I make is ever anyone’s fault but my own. My demons are my own.”

I sighed. “I know, Reid, but I don’t want to be…I don’t want to make them worse.”

“You couldn’t,” he said firmly. “Whenever I did think about calling a dealer, doing anything I could to not feel the pain in my heart…I-I kept seeing your face. You looked so understanding when I told you about dilaudid. You made me feel proud of myself for the first time in a long time.”

I had to put my palm over the end of my phone. I didn’t want him to hear how my breathing had become uneven.

“Y/n, I’ll do anything to have you look at me like that again.”

"I don't need to ask why do I?" I asked lightly, in an attempt to defuse the tension.

He laughed. “No, I don’t think you do.”

I found myself smiling, grateful he couldn’t see me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Reid.”

When I arrived to work on Monday morning for my first official day back, I was apprehensive but hopeful. The world wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t as dark as it has been.

Right when I entered the bullpen, I saw something on my desk that made me pause. There in the center of my desk was a large iced coffee from my favorite cafe, the one near my house. No matter how early I got up, I never seemed to have time to stop there before work most days. So, the fact that a cup was there in the first place was cause for notice but that wasn’t the strangest part; the ice wasn’t melted. There wasn’t any condensation on the plastic cup.

I know I’m not a genius, but that can’t happen. Right?

“There she is!”

I turned to see Rossi making his way towards me, his arm's outstretched. He wrapped me in a tight hug, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

“We’re happy to have you back, y/n.”

I smiled widely at him, meaning it when I said, “I’m happy to be back.” He gave my upper arm a squeeze before he started to walk away. “Hey, Rossi. Did you do this?” I asked, gesturing to the cup on my desk.

He just had a sly smile on his face. “I did not, kiddo.”

Of course, he didn't. After taking a deep breath, I turned to the desk across from mine. Reid was already sitting there scribbling away, doing a very good job of pretending he didn’t know I was already here. I marched over to him before I lost my nerve. “The ice wasn’t melted.”

He looked up at me, not the slightest bit surprised at my presence, a soft smile on his face. “Beg your pardon?”

“The ice. In my iced coffee. It wasn’t melted.” I waved my hand around in the air. I’m not crazy, am I? That couldn’t have just happened.

“That’s because I asked them not to put any ice in when they made it,” he said simply. “You don’t like it as much when it’s watered down after the ice melts some; so I just added the ice here.”

My heart started to beat faster. “Why would you do that?”

The smile on his face got bigger, his eyes seemed to soften somehow when he looked at me. “You know why,” he said simply.

I didn’t know what to say. So, with a tight nod at him, I turned and walked back to my desk.

The rest of my first day back went how I expected. When Morgan saw me, he gathered me up in a giant hug and spun around ignoring my demands to put me down. Garcia hugged me like she hadn’t seen me in years and brought me cupcakes. Emily and JJ took me to lunch. Hotch made me fill out forms. And Reid…well, whenever I turned to look at him, I found he was already looking at me.

The very next day when I showed up for work, I was suspicious. Every day since that Friday, Reid had done something. But when I arrived in the morning there was nothing on my desk. Nothing appeared out of place. Maybe it’s a fluke. Reid was already sitting at his desk, scrolling through his e-mail.

I knew what he had done the second I sat down. For as long as I had worked at this desk in the BAU bullpen, there was one wheel on my chair that was wonky. It never wanted to roll, and it always drove me insane. No matter what I tried the wheel never worked this well, and especially not this smoothly. Did he-?

When I looked over, he was already looking at me, that same soft smile on his face.

On my third day back at work there was nothing on my desk when I arrived, there was nothing anywhere. But I knew him, I knew he wasn’t done yet; there had to be something.

That something was on my desk when I got back from turning in my return to active duty forms to Hotch. There was a single sunflower in a vase sitting on my desk. I walked up to it and touched the petals softly. It was beautiful, but I was confused.

Walking over to his desk, I didn’t bother trying to hide the confusion or apprehension on my face. This time he wasn’t pretending to be doing something else; his eyes had been on me since the moment I walked out of Hotch’s office.

“It’s beautiful,” I began. “But I don’t understand the symbolism.”

He tilted back in his chair, looking up at me. “Sunflowers always want to be looking at the sun…and so do I.”

Because he thinks I’m the sun.

“But don’t sunflowers stop turning towards the sun when they get older?”

He just nodded. “They might, but I never will.”

I ran my tongue over my lips before I pulled both of them in between my teeth. I felt tears prick the corners of my eye. “Why?” I asked, my voice slightly thicker than normal.

Spencer stood up then; it looked like he would reach for me, but he quickly put his hands at his sides. “I’ll stop if it hurts you. Y/n, I promise to never hurt you again.” His words were earnest, his eyes were pleading. “But ‘why?’ You know why.”

I just nodded my head slightly, blowing out a shaky breath. “Thank you, it’s lovely.”

I don't know why Spencer said I was the sun because his smile at that moment was the brightest thing I'd ever seen. "Is it too much if I throw in a cheesy line, like, 'it's not as lovely as you?'"

“Brat,” I muttered, turning quickly so he wouldn’t see my smile.

That bright smile was still on his face when we all met in the conference room 20 minutes later. I saw Rossi clap him on the back when he walked in. JJ shot him a very sweet smile, it was almost motherly, like she was proud of him. Prentiss just winked.

Morgan wasn’t subtle. I’m not sure he knew how to be. He held out his fist for a fist bump, laughing openly when Spencer just wrapped his hand around it and shook.

“Alright,” Hotch said from the front of the room. Fuck, even he is smiling a little bit. “Let’s get started.”

Less than 30 minutes later, I was boarding the BAU jet for the first time in more than a month. We were off to Arkansas to assist the Hot Springs police department to catch a suspected serial killer.

I was one of the last ones on board; I smiled awkwardly when I saw everyone’s eyes on me.

“What kept you, Pretty Girl?” Morgan asked with a grin.

Oh, I’m Pretty Girl now? Subtle. I shot Morgan a look to indicate I wasn’t amused. “I had to talk to Garcia.”

Rossi looked at me expectantly “…About?”

They were all just staring at me, and they weren’t even trying to hide their amusement. I sighed. “I couldn’t just leave it on my desk, you assholes.” Garcia might have squealed loudly when I brought her my sunflower and asked her to watch over it for me.

Every one of them laughed…except Reid. Reid just bit his bottom lip and dropped his gaze. He looked so much like my nervous boy that it made me ache. That was the first time I allowed myself to admit how much I missed my darling boy.

I was in the middle of going over victimology when a cup of coffee was sat down beside me. I mumbled my thanks, not even glancing up, just reaching out to grab it. It wasn’t until my fingers wrapped around the cup that my head snapped up.

“Morgan,” I called. “What’s this?”

His smile was very, very bright. “It’s your coffee.”

I picked up the iced coffee, giving it a once over. “Are you or are you not the same Derek Morgan that has said multiple times, ‘I ain’t no damn barista if you want special coffee you go get it your damn self'?"

He nodded, his smile never wavering. “I am, so don’t get used to it. But when my boy has finally stopped being a dumbass and is trying to win his girl back?” He winked at me. “I’ll make an exception when he asks for a favor.”

I heard JJ laugh softly from the other end of the table. I scrunched my face into a mock glare at both of them. “Don’t you have a murderer to catch?”

He turned before leaving the room, putting a hand to his chest in a very dramatic fashion. “Pretty Girl, you should know SSA Derek Morgan can multitask!”

I still don’t know what it is about towns in the middle of nowhere, but it never fails, one of the cops from said town will try to weasel his way into my bed the second the case is over. I was packing up after the unsub was booked when someone cleared his throat behind me to get my attention. This time it was a tall, slightly out of shape Officer named Reynolds. His smile was greasy but at least he didn’t try to touch me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, offering what I hoped was a polite smile. “I have a boyfriend.” I always tried to be diplomatic when this happened, just because I didn’t need to Hotch reprimand me for threatening a member of the local police…again.

Officer Reynolds’ scoffed. “He doesn’t have to know.”

The smile dropped off my face, my eyes hardening. Fucker. “That’d be pretty fucking difficult since he’s a member of my team and he’s sharing a room with me.” I picked up my bag and tossed a sarcastic “nice working with you” over my shoulder before I hightailed it out of the conference room. I didn’t stop until I got to the main entrance of the precinct, where I planned to wait for the rest of the team.

“So, am I the boyfriend you mentioned?” A voice asked from behind me.

Of course. I turned to see Dr. Spencer Reid looking very pleased with himself. “I also didn’t know you wanted to share a room with me tonight. We each have single rooms though, so we don’t have to swap with anyone else…” he trailed off pretending to think. “So, who’s room are we taking?”

I rolled my eyes. “Reid, if it got some slimy cop off my back, I’d tell him you were my husband. I will throw you under the bus to save myself from a very awkward conversation that would probably lead to me punching someone.”

His face changed, he no longer looked overly pleased with himself. He looked like the same man that sat on the couch with me all those weeks ago and asked me if I kissed my submissives. He looked like the Spencer that used to be mine.

“You act like I’d mind,” he said quietly.

“Mind what? Being thrown under the bus?”

“Being called your husband.”

I froze, my eyes immediately dropped to the floor. I couldn’t look at him, I couldn’t. I let out a very shaky exhale, a sure sign that I was about to cry. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t. Why is he doing this to me?

I saw his beaten-up converse move into my field of view. He was close to me now, but he didn’t touch me. “I’m sorry, y/n,” he whispered. “But I promised I wouldn’t lie to you anymore.”

JJ walked around the corner then and he broke away from me. I just stared at my hands the whole drive back to the hotel.

The clock on the bedside table blinked 11:47 pm. I had been lying in bed since 9 pm trying to fall asleep. When we arrived back to the hotel, I didn’t speak to anyone, I just kept my head down and walked straight into my room. Once I was inside, I tore my clothes off and got into the shower, turning it on the hottest temperature I could tolerate.

I felt the tears; they were right there, I felt them pulsing underneath my eyes. I didn’t know how to do this. I didn’t know how to deny myself everything I had ever wanted when it was offering itself to me…I was the reason I was in pain right now, and it was all because I was so fucking terrified to trust him again.

I glanced back over at the clock. 11:49 pm.

Taking a deep breath, trying to pull some sort of courage into myself, I picked up my phone.

He’s probably sleeping, I reasoned, giving myself one last chance to back out.

But then the phone was dialing. I listened to the ringing and held my breath. Because what was I supposed to do if he didn’t answer? What was I supposed to do if he did?

“Y/n?” his sleepy voice asked, sounding disoriented but urgent. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Everything. And no. But I couldn't get my mouth to open. I couldn't say anything. If I opened my mouth, then everything would spill out. All the pain, all the secrets, all the hopes, and fears…and it would all be bared to Spencer Reid.

In the way that Spencer knew everything, he knew what I needed then. “I’ll be right there.” I heard a rustling on his end of the line, but he never hung up the phone.

Before I was ready, I heard the same hesitant knock on my door that I heard every night he came to my hotel room just because he missed me; the same knock that I had heard that first day at my apartment. The knock was the final crack that broke the dam I had built around my emotions in an attempt to hold them back so they wouldn’t sweep me away.

I don’t remember walking to the door, I don’t remember unlocking it; all I remember is Spencer standing on the other side in the same Caltech t-shirt and sweatpants he wore in my apartment when we sat on my couch on our first real night together.

“Y/n?” His eyes ran over me frantically. He came into the room, shutting the door behind him. His hands reached out like he would grab me, but I saw the indecision on his face. “Tell me what you need, baby. Please?”

The moment that I was so afraid of happened then. The tears finally flooded my eyes and my jaw unlocked. “Spence, I’m scared.” I swallowed, trying to control my broken voice. “I want this so much but I’m terrified.”

His arms enveloped me before I was finished speaking. One hand in the center of my back, the other on the back of my head. He smelt like coffee, laundry detergent, and my Spencer. My body shook in his arms. The pain from his words at the hospital, the pain from him not being there when I woke up, the pain of losing him, and the pain of having to turn him away for almost a week when he was all I wanted; all of that pain just poured out of me while I sobbed into his chest.

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” he whispered against my hair. “I’m so, so sorry. And I will do anything-I’ll do everything to prove to you that I will never hurt you again.”

He kept holding me until my tears finally quieted, my body almost went limp in his arms. The weight of all of that pain was so heavy for so long, and now that I didn’t have to hold it, I was so tired.

“Spence?” My throat felt raw, my eyes were puffy.

“Hmm?”

I didn’t lift my head to look at him. “I’m ready to hear it now.”

Spencer froze, I’m pretty sure he stopped breathing for a moment. Then he leaned back, pulling his chest away from my face. Both of his hands cupped my face, his thumbs moving over my cheeks softly, wiping the tear trails away. Spencer held me like I was more fragile than glass like I was made of something that would crumble into nothing if he so much as moved wrong.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his beautiful golden-brown eyes searching mine.

I nodded. “Yeah, I think so,” I said, giving him a small shaky laugh.

He tilted my head up slightly before his lips brushed against my forehead. “I loved you before you were ready to hear it; I loved you before you even knew I existed.” He pressed another kiss my cheek. “I loved you since the first time you smiled at me.” He kissed my other cheek. “I will never stop telling you how much I love you.” He trailed his lips over to my mouth. “I will love you forever…because no one has ever loved someone the way I love you,” he whispered, his breath washing over my lips.

I leaned forward and brushed my mouth against his. I felt the final layer of my resistance crumble. “Please don’t hurt me again, Spence.”

He pulled away to stare in my eyes. “I will never hurt you like this again. I’m so fucking sorry, y/n.”

“Just kiss me, Spencer.”

He gave me a tiny grin at the command. “I thought you didn’t kiss your submissives,” he teased.

I brought my hand up to hold his face. “You know I break all my rules for you, my darling, nervous boy.”

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trolleybitch · 3 years

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the trolley witch backstory

okay this is long overdue but i thought it was about time that i shared the official trolley witch backstory from this thread. before we start, what we know about the hogwarts express trolley witch from canon: she was hired by ottaline gambol, had been working on the hogwarts express for around 190 years by the time she met albus potter and scorpius malfoy, she had pumpkin pasty grenades and extendable fingernail spikes, and when she failed to stop the boys from escaping the train, she was inconsolable and talked about letting down ottaline gambol.

so, without further ado, her story:

the year is 1802. trolley witch is born into a poor muggle family in rural northern england and her father leaves shortly after she's born. she grows up lonely and isolated, working from a young age to help her mum make ends meet. age 11, she gets her hogwarts letter.

her mother is a bit dubious but lets her go - it's a good opportunity to get rid of the burden of looking after her. she arrives at hogwarts and is sorted into gryffindor, although she doesn't really know what that means. she doesn't make friends easily.

other kids mock her background and upbringing, and her magic skills. she never really learned to read, and with no magical family she's behind on spells and has never been academically inclined. she doesn't ask for help and her teachers don't always notice she needs it.

mid-second year, her mother dies. she doesn't find out for several weeks because who would write to tell her? she spends all her holidays at hogwarts, often alone. the gryffindor common room is all snide comments and judgemental looks so she starts to explore the castle.

in her third year she finds the kitchens. the house-elves are wary of her at first, this strange, solitary girl coming to spy on them, but she becomes fascinated by cooking and after a while they grow to appreciate her interest. they start to teach her.

by fourth year she spends all of her free time in the kitchens, cooking and baking with the elves. homework and lessons get forgotten and she lags even further behind in her schoolwork, but she learns to follow recipes and then to invent her own.

o.w.l.s and n.e.w.t.s come and go and her grades are poor, barely passing half her classes. a few teachers try to offer specialist tutoring and she accepts half-heartedly but her mind is elsewhere - she only wants to cook, to do the thing she does best.

she leaves hogwarts with nowhere to go and no friends to rely on. who would hire the lowly muggleborn girl with no qualifications? she makes her way to london - she's never been but she's heard people say it's the best place to find work.

the city is overwhelming, but she manages to find diagon alley and the wizarding community. one day when she's lurking outside the back entrance to the leaky cauldron, hoping for scraps, an old teacher passes by and recognises her.

the teacher takes pity and asks if there's anything they can do. trolley witch tells her the only thing she can do is cook. the teacher's sister works at the ministry and she knows they are often looking to take on kitchen assistants - she'll get in touch.

after a few days, she's nervously making her way to the ministry of magic for her first day. the hogwarts kitchens were big and busy but they've got nothing on the ministry; a scene of vast, barely organised chaos. her boss is shrewd and fierce, and she's set to work on the most basic tasks to prove herself.

that afternoon, a senior ministry official comes down to check on catering preparations for an event she's hosting in a couple of days. trolley witch has just finished glazing several pans of pastries. the senior ministry official tries one.

'she's new, miss' says a nearby chef, excusing trolley witch's skills.

'impressive, for a new recruit,' says ottaline gambol, looking trolley witch straight in the eye, 'this glaze is excellent. welcome to the ministry.'

an obsession begins.

ottaline visits the kitchens only occasionally but trolley witch is always waiting for her. she works harder than ever, picking up every recipe, designing new dishes, honing flavour combinations, all to make sure she's got something impressive for the next visit.

it works. the older official is mildly impressed, if a little unsettled by trolley witch's solitary, strange nature. she rarely seems to go home or interact with anyone apart from necessary conversations in the kitchens.

one day, they meet in an elevator as trolley witch is taking food to an important ministry hearing. ottaline asks for a sample and their fingers brush as trolley witch hands her a pumpkin pasty. ottaline doesn't notice, but compliments the pasty. trolley witch tries to keep her composure.

'my department is in need of an assistant catering manager, helping to design event menus and so on. think about it.'

trolley witch doesn't need to think. she accepts and begins work in ottaline's department, seeing her almost every day, watching her closely.

ottaline gambol is a force to be reckoned with - strong-willed, assertive, a powerfully skilled witch. over the next 6 years she charts a meteoric rise in power, from senior official to head of department to - in 1827 - minister for magic.

trolley witch never leaves her side. she works hard to keep honing her culinary skills, but she does more. she waits for ottaline outside meetings to walk her back to the office. she analyses the smallest gesture, the most offhand of comments. she's desperate for approval and attention from this woman who showed her kindess on her first day. by her appointment as minister, ottaline has noticed the girl's obsession. she's got more important things to do than navigate an intense crush and figure out how to let this odd, lonely girl down gently.

in 1830, ottaline is finalising plans for the hogwarts express - a new form of transport to safely deliver students to hogwarts, managed by the ministry. it's revolutionary, it's creating a storm of attention across the wizarding world. and it needs a trolley witch.

someone to cook and sell food on the journey, but someone with a keen eye to watch over the students and make sure they don't come to harm. ottaline calls trolley witch into her ministerial office and offers her the job. it's the greatest honour of trolley witch's life.

to be chosen, so specifically, by ottaline. she feels like she's finally been recognised, she's finally achieved something. she realises she'll be apart from ottaline for a while, but probably just a year or two and then they can be together again, right? she begins work.

1st september, 1830. her first day.

'good luck,' says ottaline on platform 9 3/4. 'keep these children on the train, and keep them safe. i trust you to do an excellent job for me.'

those were the last words ottaline ever spoke to trolley witch.

the train departs. trolley witch walks the corridors, distributing pasties and sweets, watching the children. they are all delivered on time and in perfect health to hogwarts - a great success. trolley witch writes to ottaline straight away to tell her the good news.

'thank you for you letter, i'm pleased to hear the journey was a success. best wishes' is ottaline's reply.

she's probably very busy, will write a longer letter soon, thinks trolley witch. she never does.

trolley witch works back in the hogwarts kitchens during the year, with only the elves for company. years pass and trolley witch continues to write long, rambling letters to ottaline, never receiving a reply. she makes the journey back and forth to london at the beginning and end of every holiday, dutifully watching over the students.

she hopes to see ottaline at the station, but never does. in 1835, tragedy strikes - ottaline, nearing the end of her second term as minister, contracts a severe case of dragon pox and dies. trolley witch sees the news in a student's copy of the daily prophet and is inconsolable. she speaks to nobody for weeks, not even the elves, even when a few other members of staff ask her what's wrong.

one day in the kitchens an elf passes by with a full tray of pumpkin pasties, perfectly glazed. she remembers the first day she met ottaline, back in that busy kitchen, and she vows to protect her legacy. she works tirelessly, baking and cooking and watching the children. they test her patience, play cruel tricks, tease her, never ask her name. she forgets the outside world, forgets who she is, thinks only of ottaline.

every journey on the hogwarts express becomes more perilous - she cannot let the children get the better of her, cannot let ottaline's work be in vain. over the decades she picks up elfish magic, learning to weaponise her food, and later herself.

she goes unnoticed by staff and students alike, existing as a constant feature of their hogwarts life, always present but never worthy of attention. staff come and go, and nobody thinks to ask how long she's been at hogwarts. she stays alive through sheer willpower.

1st september 2020.

a normal hogwarts express journey - or so the trolley witch thinks. all is well until albus potter and scorpius malfoy climb onto the roof of the train to try and escape. it's the greatest test of trolley witch's career.

it's been a long time since she was challenged like this. she does her best - pumpkin pasty grenades, armoured fingernails, but the boys escape. her world shatters around her. ottaline would be so disappointed in her - she's failed in her sole duty.

it's been two hundred years and she has never failed before. mcgonagall tries to comfort her, but it's no use. what purpose does she serve now? trolley witch hands in her notice and leaves the castle the next day, never to be seen again. she wanders the forests near the castle, thinking only of ottaline. perhaps ottaline had known all along that she would fail, and that's why she never replied to her letters, why she never visited. she gets lost, deeper and deeper in the forest, until the cold and the dark envelop her.

when the hogwarts express departs for the christmas holidays, something is missing - someone. students start to get impatient.

'where's the trolley witch? i'm hungry.'

complaints are made. eventually the ministry hires a replacement, service resumes. trolley witch fades into history, unremembered.

so next time you are thinking about cursed child, about your cute albus and scorpius headcanons - remember the trolley witch.

remember what they did to her. remember her story.

🛒 1802-2020 🛒

the end

#ccsquad #harry potter #cursed child #hpcc #trolley witch #ottaline gambol #hogwarts express #headcanons #my hcs #trolleybitch #albus potter #scorpius malfoy #this is probs the best thing i will ever write and i'm not sorry

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delicatelyherdreams · 4 years

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Pragma(tic) 16: He Feels His Heart Break

Pairing: Persephone!Bucky Barnes x Hades!Reader

Summary: In a world where the old gods never truly died, you must learn to navigate your way through the ups and downs of immortality. And if living forever wasn’t hard enough, an ancient evil is now threatening to break free after centuries of silence. And as if that still wasn’t hard enough for you, now a pesky and infuriatingly handsome god is trying to wedge his way into your life. Gods, work, love, and conflict—what more could a goddess need? [Hades & Persephone AU]

Word Count: 1472

Warnings: Language

Pragma(tic) Masterlist

Previous 15: It’s Way Worse Than She Thought

I don’t love you.

Those four words repeated over and over again in his head like a sadistic mantra.

I don’t love you.

He could hear her voice painfully clear in his head. She’d said them, she’d meant them. He never thought it was possible. Did all their time together mean nothing to her? Did she just take him for granted?

He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been. He loved her. He loved her with all his being. He’d shown her that over and over again. She’d been nothing but the same to him, fooling him into thinking she loved him back but, if he thought hard enough, he could never recall her actually saying those three words back.

I love you.

She’d never said it, she’d never meant it.

He didn’t know what her aim was, but now he didn’t really care.

He was too busy licking festering wounds to care.

His heart hurt every second of every day. He’d honestly thought she was the one for him. He’d never felt that way about anyone before, and he’d really thought she was the perfect match. Around her, he felt loved and cherished, more so than he had by anyone else. Around her he felt powerful, amazing. Around her, he could be himself, she didn’t mind. She was good to him, witty and sarcastic maybe, but good nonetheless. She always had his best interests at mind and was always willing to let him speak with her about anything and everything.

He’d always thought she loved him. She kissed him like she did, held him like she did, loved him like she did. He could feel the affection in her touch, feel the adoration in her words, see the love in her eyes.

But he’d been wrong.

She didn’t love him, she said so herself.

Bucky was… Inconsolable to say the least. It was a good thing that the gods didn’t really need to eat mortal food to survive because he refused to take even a single bite.

His mother believed he was overreacting, but then again she hadn’t seen just what (y/n) meant to him.

Steve and Sam knew all too well. They’d been there every step of the way. They’d seen how different (y/n) had made him and how much happier he had been when he started seeing her. They’d been there for his talks about how she was real with him, and they’d seen just how in love with her he was.

They’d also seen how she was with Bucky, and Steve had talked with Peggy briefly about the subject. He refused to believe that (y/n) would say she didn’t love Bucky when she clearly did.

But none of them pretended to know the goddess’ motives. None of them could fathom her reasoning.

The coming of spring took up most of the young god’s time. It was an exhaustive process that demanded most of his energy. Calling forth trees and flowers was what he was good at. Bringing the warm winds of change was a blessing.

But this year's spring would not prove to be as beautiful as before for it reflected his solemn sadness and represented his loss of love.

Late in the night, when he wasn’t conjuring new life, Bucky was looking up at the stars, his mind a million miles beneath the ground.

He couldn’t help but wonder what (y/n) was doing. Was she thinking of him too? Had she completely forgotten him? He didn’t know, and he was too afraid to reach out and see. So many times he’d been close to calling her, but every time he chickened out before he could press the “call” button. He couldn’t call her, not after how she’d told him to stay away. And so he just prayed to whatever deity would listen to him that she would call him first.

But days passed. Then weeks. And then finally months until two whole ones had come and gone.

She wasn’t going to call.

He realized that after week two.

If she was going to call she would’ve by then.

But Bucky didn’t lose hope.

He held out all through the agonizing third and fourth week, continuing to sleep next to his phone just in case she did call him.

But still nothing.

It was by week five that he just gave it up. He had to accept what had happened no matter how badly it stung. No matter how horribly it hurt, it had happened and nothing was going to change that.

A small stone hung heavy in his pocket and he found himself taking it out time after time again to look at it. It was the ruby she’d thrown at him so long ago. Even though it was as big as a pebble, it might as well have been a boulder. The weight of the ruby held him down, striking his heart with pain because it only made him think of her.

He wanted to throw it away, to just chuck it off the edge of a cliff and rid himself of the gemstone.

But he couldn’t. And so, back into the pocket it went.

At the beginning of week six is when he decided to try and heal. It was then that he realized that he’d have to move on with his life. He had godly responsibilities (although those were few and far between) to attend to and friends to hang out with. He could get on fine without her. He didn’t have any other choice.

She continued to lurk in the back of his mind, a constant painful reminder of what he’d had and what he’d lost, all during that time, but it wasn’t until the end of the second month that he really thought of her again.

It was one of those nights where he just couldn’t sleep and could only stare up at the stars and, like an intruder in the dead of night, thoughts of her crept to the front of his mind.

At once he found himself wishing that he knew why she had said those things. Wished he had stayed longer. Wished he had talked to her. He longed to know what was running through her mind when she sent him away, but he realized that he might never get the chance.

Oh, (y/n)... He couldn’t imagine why she’d leave him. Just earlier that day they’d talked about how they were going to stick it out together, get through it and come out on the other side. What possibly could have changed her mind?

He didn’t know, he had no way of knowing, but he did know that every time he thought about it his heart just ached and ached and ached. He’d given it to her, and she’d destroyed it.

A phone—his phone—ringing pulled him from his thoughts and he reluctantly rolled over to look at it. He glanced at the caller ID and his breath stopped in his throat.

(y/n)

With trembling limbs, he reached out to grab the phone and carefully pressed “answer.” Tears welled up in his eyes as he took a shaky breath. For a moment, he thought that her calling was nothing but a dream, but he called out nonetheless, “(y/n)?”

“Bucky.”

A frown tugged at his lips. That wasn’t (y/n)’s voice. It was her best friend’s.

“Peggy?” Bucky asked, his heart hammering against his chest as he sat up.

She didn’t confirm nor deny, but he could tell it was her. Peggy let out a relieved laugh as she whimpered, “Oh, thank the gods… I wasn’t sure you’d pick up.”

“Peggy?” Bucky asked again, his brows furrowing. “What’s going on? Where’s (y/n)?” Why was Peggy calling him from her phone?

“It’s not good, Bucky,” Peggy stammered. She sounded frazzled and panicked. Her voice was trembling. “(y/n)... She’s… She’s dying.”

The world stopped in that instant. It was so sudden that Bucky wasn’t even sure how to process it right away. His breath froze in his lungs. He couldn’t take a breath. He couldn’t move.

“She… She needs you, Buck,” the woman said, her voice getting choked up and cracking. “Please. Please come see her. I don’t… I don’t know if you’ll get the chance again.”

Bucky forced himself to his feet and reached into his pocket where he always kept the leather pouch (y/n) had given him so long ago. “I… I’m planting a seed now.” He pulled the tiny object from the pouch and tossed it down onto the ground beneath him. As it opened and swallowed him, he found himself praying to any higher power that would listen that he wasn’t too late.

Next 17: Though Mighty, She Falls

#pragma(tic)#hades and persephone #hades & persephone #hades & persephone au #persephone!bucky x hades!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x you #delicatelyherdreams #angst

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years

Text

In My Daughter’s Eyes

"In my daughter's eyes, I am a hero. I am strong and wise, and I know no fear. But the truth is plain to see: she was sent to rescue me. I see who I want to be. In my daughter's eyes...And when she wraps her hand around my finger, how it puts a smile in my heart. Everything becomes a little clearer; I realize what life is all about. It's hanging on when your heart has had enough. It's giving more when you feel like giving up I've seen the light: It's in my daughter's eyes."

Claire’s husband has abandoned her and their daughter, Faith, because he is unable to handle her diagnosis of nonverbal autism. In order to start a new life, Claire has taken Faith to New York. Desperate for some kind of breakthrough in Faith’s treatment, she decides to try horse therapy, where she meets Jamie Fraser, Faith’s assigned hippotherapist. Claire is overwhelmed and touched by Jamie’s dedication to his work, and his particular dedication to her daughter.

Chapter 1: Four Incidents

Read on AO3

Claire’s nerves were positively shot. The past ten or so hours had been hell for her poor daughter, and, subsequently, for her as well. The first incident had arisen from the fact that four-year-old Faith had never been in such a crowded setting before. Immediately upon stepping through the doors of the airport and seeing the bustling hoards of people, she had begun yanking on her mother’s hand, digging her stubborn heels into the tile, and screaming her head off. Claire had come prepared; she had her noise-canceling headphones for the flight, but she hadn’t anticipated needing them for the airport itself. In actuality, it wasn’t really that loud, and so this tantrum had her absolutely dreading the upcoming flight.

Claire was used to the stares, the disapproval, the tuts of sympathy. She’d even heard her fair share of blatant, verbal criticism of her parenting. So, she let that roll off her back. What she wasn’t used to was Airport Police coming up to her and questioning what her intentions were with her own child. She’d had to stammer to them while her face and neck flushed red, tears of embarrassment stinging her eyes.

“Yes, I am her mother—You don’t understand; she has autism. She’s never been somewhere so crowded before. She’s just overwhelmed.”

Have you never bloody seen a child throw a tantrum before?

Well, perhaps they had, but they certainly hadn’t been privy to a Faith tantrum.

Panic began clenching her gut, remembering the time she’d been asked to leave a grocery store because Faith had wet herself, then proceeded to roll around on the floor, inconsolable. That had been the worst one to date.

This one was quickly rivaling it, however.

They asked her to provide proof that Faith was her child; proof that she was not kidnapping her.

“I can’t let go of her hand—please, she’ll run outside and right into traffic.”

“I’ll hold onto her, ma’am.”

“No—”

It was too late. The man put a hand on Faith’s shoulder, and all hell broke loose. Claire had to tighten her grip on her hand to the point of her knuckles whitening. If Faith was screaming before, now she was howling. The Airport Police were in a frenzy; they had no idea what to do.

“Faith! Darling, please, it’s alright.”

Claire let their suitcases go, dropped her purse and fell to her knees to wrap her arms around Faith’s middle from behind. It wasn’t long before a little fist collided with her lip. At some point in the proceedings, Claire had managed to say: “Look for our passports your fucking self if you really must have proof that she’s mine.”

They did.

“Faith! Faith Julia Randall, if you don’t stop this right now, there will be no dessert tonight.”

Another loud wail.

“Do you hear me? I’m going to count to ten, Faith. By ten, if you are not quiet, no dessert.”

Another cry.

“One. Two.”

Claire tasted blood in her mouth. Seemed that her daughter had given her another fat lip.

“Three. Four.”

By some bloody miracle, her thrashing was finally starting to calm.

“Five. Six.”

The screaming stopped.

“Seven. Eight.”

Faith’s full bodyweight collapsed into Claire, and Claire let out a sigh of relief. “Okay. There you go. Good girl…good girl.”

She rocked her gently, kissed her head. “Good girl, Faith. It’s alright now.”

The Airport Police were still standing there, stunned into silence.

“Uh…ma’am…your lip is bleeding.”

“I’m aware, thank you,” Claire snapped before returning her attention to Faith. “Shh…it’s alright…”

“I’m, uh…sorry for making it worse, ma’am,” the other officer said softly. “Would, uh…this help?”

He held something down to her, pointedly reaching for Claire and not Faith. Claire looked up to see him holding out a set of little plastic wings, clearly some “junior assistant pilot” badge they occasionally gave out to children.

“It might. Thank you.”

“I’m Officer Hansen, ma’am. Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“Just…just watch my bags until I’ve gotten her calm. Thank you.”

He nodded.

“Hey…Faithie…” Claire crooned, stroking her tear soaked cheek. “Look what Mummy has.” She held the little wings in her palm in front of Faith’s eyes. “Do you want to be a pilot, Faith? What about that?”

Hiccuping and coughing through her tears, she reached out for the wings and held them in her hands, examining them closely.

“Do you like it?”

Faith nodded ever-so-slightly.

“Shall we put it on?” She gently turned Faith around and took the pin in her hand, fastening it to a belt loop. Faith did not wear pins or wristbands in a conventional manner. The feeling of something poking her skin through her shirt or something rubbing her wrist caused her sensory overload, so the belt loop is where such things ended up.

“Good girl.”

Claire took her hand and made to stand up, but Faith uttered an indignant noise that froze her in her spot. She sighed in surrender.

“I’m afraid she’s going to make me carry her, or else we’ll all be privy to another tantrum…” Claire said, scooping her up and settling her on her hip. “Could you…would it be terribly inconvenient if you were to help with our luggage?”

“We’re police, ma’am, not busboys — ”

“I’d be happy to help, ma’am.” Officer Hansen cut the other officer off.

“Thank you, thank you so much.” Claire practically burst into tears, overwhelmed with gratefulness.

She’d underestimated how difficult it would be to travel with a child as special as Faith alone.

Claire shook her head. She didn’t want to think about Frank right now.

Keeping Faith calm by making criss-cross patterns on her back with her fingertips and making a rushing “shh” noise in her ear for white noise, Claire and the officer made their way to the check-in counter. He handled her purse,credit card, and ID as well, and Claire could have gotten on her knees and kissed his feet. She could tell he was genuinely sorry for what had happened as a result of his and his partner’s ignorance, and he was determined to see that they got on their flight in one piece.

He also got them through pre-check, using his privileges to escort them through the faster line. Once they were through, he handed her back her purse and Faith’s carry-on Frozen backpack.

“I’ve put the boarding passes at the top so you can get to them easier. In case you never get to put her down.” He smiled apologetically. “I really am sorry — ”

“Please, it’s alright,” Claire said. “I really, really appreciate all you’ve done for us. You have no idea how hard it is to do this…”

“Alone,” he finished for her.

“Yeah.” Claire nodded.

“If there’s anything else you need, you can ask anybody with a walkie-talkie to page Officer Hansen. Alright?”

She smiled warmly. “Thank you. Truly.”

He nodded curtly and then went off.

The second incident had arisen when they’d come across a kiosk selling mini cereal boxes, and Faith’s eye had been caught by a box of Fruit-Loops that had Elsa on it. Claire had been loath to buy more cereal, being that she already had plain cheerios in Faith’s carry-on that had been much cheaper than the robbery for which the Fruit Loops were selling. She tried to resist, but fearing prompting another tantrum, she yielded. She bought the box and stealthily managed to switch the bag of Fruit Loops inside the box with the bag of Cheerios, knowing full well that the sugar content of the Fruit Loops would make the upcoming flight unbearable.

So there they sat, waiting at the terminal, Faith kicking her legs and bouncing while clutching her tablet, watching Frozen with her noise-cancelling headphones on with Claire occasionally popping a Cheerio into her open mouth.

The third incident had arisen when it was time to board and Claire tried to put Faith’s pink sequined sleep-mask over her eyes to prevent her from seeing how close-quarters the aircraft was. She’d immediately moaned in protest, unwilling to tear her eyes away from the movie. Claire knew she was taking a leap of faith (and she laughed to herself at the pun), but with bated breath she allowed Faith to simply walk onto the boarding bridge with her nose stuck in her tablet.

Before long, she was seated and buckled, tablet in her lap, her eyes never having left the screen.

It bloody worked.

Claire could have cried with relief.

Claire had to plead with the stewardess to convince her that Faith’s tablet was not a “large electronic device,” and the stewardess had conceded; as long as it stayed in her lap and the tray remained in the upright position, Faith could keep watching her movie.

The fourth incident, of course, occurred when the plane started to take off. Even with noise-cancelling headphones, the rushing mechanical noise and the feeling of the vibration everywhere was too much for her. She clamped her hands over her headphones, and she immediately began squirming, trying to unbuckle her seatbelt. Then, of course, the sensation of the take-off itself did not help at all. Claire had given herself a pep-talk every morning leading up to this flight for weeks: “It’s not your fault. The people judging you have no idea what you deal with every day. You can’t help her sensory overload. Ignore them.”

But she still couldn’t help the rush of embarrassed heat on her neck as the familiar side-eyes and conspicuous whispers began.

After literally clamping her hands down on Faith’s shoulders to keep her seated for about an hour, Faith finally became engrossed in the movie again. Claire had also prepared in that she knew getting Faith to use the bathroom on the aircraft would be a disaster. Since being potty-trained was still relatively new--even though she was four, potty-training an autistic child was a whole different animal--Claire had put a fresh pull-up on her right before they boarded to prevent as many trips as possible.

Finally, ten or so hours since the initial meltdown, Claire was standing at baggage claim, holding her sleeping daughter. She’d fallen asleep with about two hours left in the flight and slept straight through the descent and the landing, thank God. Claire had never been particularly religious, but she’d had the urge to cross herself upon realizing she’d be avoiding a fifth incident.

When the blaring alarm sounded, signaling that the baggage claim carousel was beginning, Faith jolted awake in her arms.

Fuck.

She began wailing again, clamping her hands over the headphones.

Do those bloody things cancel any noise?

Admittedly, it could have been worse. It seemed that she was just alarmed to be woken so suddenly, because, after about twenty seconds, she was calm again. Claire had to put her down to collect their baggage, and she struggled greatly to get the suitcase off the moving carousel with one hand. Letting go of Faith’s hand was simply not an option.

She was eternally grateful, then, to the stranger who helped her with both bags.

Bloody ironic that you’ve met two strange men today that have done more for you and your daughter than her own father.

Pushing that dark thought aside once more, Claire made her way to the taxi pick up area and strapped Faith into the rental car seat. Their 11:20 departure from Heathrow International had landed them at MacArthur Airport at 2:07 on the dot. After a seven hour and forty-five minute flight, there was only a twenty-two minute taxi drive and then they’d finally be in their new home: an apartment complex only a few miles away from Stony Brook University Hospital, where Claire would be doing her residency.

She’d never particularly imagined herself living in (or on, as they say here) Long Island of all places. After her unconventional and rather rugged upbringing, thinking of herself living in suburbia, only about an hour from those Hamptons she’d heard so much about, was enough to make her chuckle to herself. Gillian had assured her that the entire island wasn’t like the stereotype she’d imagined, which had slightly put her mind at ease. That wasn’t what had drawn her there, of course.

She’d been drawn to the area by a great many things. She wanted to be away from the cluttered, cramped feeling of Europe; away from Frank, quite honestly, as far as possible. She didn’t want to be in a city; she knew the noise would be far too much for Faith. The quiet suburbs of Long Island seemed to fit, and she’d heard excellent things about Stony Brook. Lastly, and most importantly were the amazing things she’d heard about equine therapy for special needs children. There were such places in England, but none had as many glowing reviews as the one that was only an eighteen minute drive from their new home: Harmony Stables.

Faith had always had an affinity for animals, and Claire felt guilty that she couldn’t commit to taking care of a dog so that she could have a service dog. It wasn’t the finances, per se, just the thought of having two lives to look after on her own was an overwhelming thought. Perhaps someday when they were settled. Faith’s psychiatrist in Oxfordshire had suggested some sort of animal therapy, and she spoke of the wonders equine therapy had done for a previous patient. At this point, Claire would try anything. Anything to calm the horrible anxiety that she knew plagued her daughter every second of any given day. The Risperdal was not doing much on its own. As much as the meltdowns fried Claire’s nerves and caused her much embarrassment, she was certain they fried Faith’s nerves about ten times as much. If learning to ride and forming a connection with a horse could take away even a fraction of that crippling anxiety, Claire would pay any amount of money to make that happen.

She’d also, of course, done research regarding her education. She was aware of the specific needs of her non-verbal autistic daughter; knew she needed to learn to communicate, either find someone to coax words out of her or learn sign language, knew she needed to learn how to read and how to behave in a public setting. She’d already made arrangements for a private tutor to come to the house like she’d done in Oxfordshire. She’d been in contact with a Mrs. Lickett, a lovely woman. Together, they would decide if Faith would be ready for a special needs kindergarten class come next fall, or if they should wait another year. Mrs. Lickett had assured her that it was common for children like Faith to continue with private instruction and wait to start real school until six or seven.

Claire’s reverie was broken when she felt the taxi stop and she looked up with wide eyes at the building before her. The buildings in the complex were only two stories high, the grass was neatly trimmed, and the doors were all stark white with shimmering gold numbers.

Well, it’s not a cul-de-sac housing development, but it sure still feels like suburbia.

Number eleven was theirs, on the second floor. The cab driver helped with the luggage as Claire tugged Faith up the stairs, eyes still glued to her tablet, which was now playing Sesame Street. Claire’s fingers shook as she pushed the key into the lock, and she exhaled sharply when she took in the sight of the living room. She’d had most of the things she didn’t want to replace sent over about a week and a half ago, along with ordering new essentials like furniture and mattresses. But the movers and delivery men hadn’t bothered to keep anything separated by room like she’d requested, except for the furniture itself. Sighing deeply, she sat Faith on the couch beside a stack of boxes and paid the taxi driver, thanking him profusely.

God…where do I even begin?

Claire supposed she should start with finding and unpacking bedroom items, preferring to have both of their beds made before they crashed tonight. Kitchen stuff could wait; they’d most definitely be getting takeout tonight…and probably every night for the foreseeable future.

She started to rifle through boxes and then she smiled and turned to Faith, intending to let her know how very exciting it was to be in their new home, but she bit her tongue. It would perhaps be better to leave her, for now, completely engrossed in the tablet. If Claire interrupted her now, who knows when she’d be able to get anything done? Sadness tugged at her heart briefly as she watched her daughter, a vague, absent smile on her face. She wondered if she had any idea at all what was going on, if she’d be anxious in a new environment, if it wouldn’t phase her at all, if she was excited. She had no way of communicating her thoughts and emotions, even to her own mother, and it was times like this where that thought pained Claire the most.

She wanted nothing more than to blast her Disney playlist and christen the new living room with their dancing, to revel in this new beginning with her daughter. But for the sake of productivity, that would have to wait.

With a heavy sigh, Claire returned to her boxes, intent on finding bedsheets and blankets. She wanted to turn on music, knowing that she worked better that way, but she didn’t want anything to distract Faith from her, well, distraction. She settled on humming “Let it Go,” of all things, to herself while she worked to find what they’d need to carry out the rest of the day with some semblance of normalcy.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander modern au #outlander au #claire beauchamp #claire fraser #jamie fraser #faith fraser

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ourloveisforthelovely · 4 years

Text

Second Chance 2

Harry Potter AU

Pairings: Sirius Black x Reader

Link to Chapter 1

Rating- M- smut

______

The house was dark when you stepped in. You reached out and flipped on the foyer light. After taking off your sweater, you felt eyes on you.

“What took you so long?”

You said, not bothering to turn. That action needed to wait a moment.

“I had other things to take care of. I knew where you were and that you were safe.”

You internally sighed hearing Sirius’ voice. It had been 13 long years since you had heard him speak. Now all of the girly feelings were swarming.

“Such as?”

You asked.

“Making sure that Harry and Matilda were okay. Trying to catch Pettigrew and commit the murder that I was imprisoned for...ya know...everything that you expected.”

Sirius was waiting for you to turn. He expected that you wouldn’t run to him and jump into his arms. That wouldn’t be you.

When you finally turned, you didn’t regret it. Your heart ached even more with grief looking at Sirius. He had lost some weight and looked older but god he was still handsome! You weren’t sure where he got the tight jeans and jumper but you were thankful for whoever they were.

“You saw Matilda?”

You questioned. Sirius nodded and ran a hand through his messy hair.

“She’s the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen...except you of course.”

You smirked.

“And you still have a way with words.”

Sirius didn’t like the way that you were watching him warily. The look in your eyes hurt his heart. You were afraid of him. That was something that he never wanted.

“Just so you know, she wasn’t looking for me. She was actually minding her own business.”

You chuckled.

“That’s shocking for Matilda. She’s truly your daughter. Sometimes I think that is James and yourself running around here pulling the pranks that she and Harry pull.”

Sirius’ face took on a pained expression.

“I miss him. Y/n, I have to talk to you. Those things...that I supposedly did...it wasn’t me. It was Peter Pettigrew who has apparently been living as Ron Weasley’s rat for the past 13 years. I hope you’ll believe me one day.”

Sirius had walked to you. He reached out and kissed your hand. Sirius smiled seeing your engagement ring still on your finger.

“I do believe you. I only wished that you would have stayed home with me that day. Matilda and I have suffered greatly without you. There is no point in yelling at you about it. You’ve suffered enough. We both have. All of our friends abandoned me. The only person that I had was Remus and your mother.”

Sirius’ mouth dropped. He had a feeling that the two of you hadn’t had an easy go because of him but he never expected all your friends to just up and walk away. The news that his mother had something to do with you was even more concerning.

“My...mother?”

Sirius choked out. You nodded,

“She and Regulus both apparently took pity on me. Walburga was proud of what you supposedly did. She was the only one there when Matilda was born.”

Sirius’ happy expression had turned to horror. His crazy-ass mum was there when Matilda made her grand appearance and apparently got her claws into the little girl after all. It was everything that Sirius never wanted.

You, meanwhile, thought back to the day Matilda was born with a frown. It was a happy day but it also wasn’t at the same time. This was the darkest period of your life and you would never be able to forget it.

You had been staying with Walburga for some time. Orion had died the year before. You accredited that to Walburga’s reason in wanting to help you. That and the fact this baby would be the next heir to the Black family name. You hated living in Grimmauld Place, however, the dark and depressive mood of the house fit your current mindset.

“Still not getting any bigger are you?”

You looked up as Walburga stepped into the room with a little sandwich on a china plate. This was your fourth sandwich of the day. You weren’t sure what Walburga was thinking but fattening you up wasn’t going to make you feel any better. Eating itself made you feel worse!

You were right at 8 months pregnant and was probably the size of someone 6 months. Walburga had been making it her personal mission to shove food in your face whenever she could. If it wasn’t Walburga it was Kreacher chasing you around with a cup of tea.

“I don’t think so. I’m not really hungry.”

Walburga put the sandwich down in front of you.

“You haven’t eaten in two hours. The baby needs to eat.”

You internally muttered that the baby was sick of sandwiches all hours. Walburga sat down with a smile.

“Y/n, darling, I am sorry to say this but starving yourself will not bring Sirius back to your side. My son made a wonderful decision and you should be proud of him.”

You felt like vomiting right on Walburga’s insanely expensive rug. How could you be proud of Sirius? You were furious with him but also wanted him more than ever.

Like a good little robot, you took a few tentative bites of the sandwich to appease your mother-in-law.

“That’s a good girl.”

She said in a forced loving voice. After a few bites, you felt a pain shoot through you.

“Oh my!”

You whimpered. Walburga jumped up. Her dark eyes were wide.

“It's too early! It can’t be time! Kreacher! Get the doctor here!”

Whether Walburga liked it or not, Matilda had made up her mind that today was the day! The baby sure took her sweet and precious time too. You spent the next 14 hours in the most excruciating pain known to man! The stupid doctor wouldn’t give you any drugs to help with the pain. You suspected Walburga was behind that.

When Matilda was finally born, you sat propped up on a few pillows looking at the most darling baby in the world. Walburga was busy wandering around the room telling off Kreacher and any other poor being that got in her way. She finally calmed down enough to hold her granddaughter. Walburga looked down at her with a proud smile.

“She’s perfect...a little small but she will be fine. Now we just have to raise her right.”

You shook yourself from the memory that apparently you transferred to the poor man in front of you. Sirius had his hands over his face and was trembling.

“Please tell me that my mother didn’t get her claws into her.”

You shook your head.

“No, not long after Matilda was born Regulus died and Walburga went around the twist. She’s been dead for a while now. However, if you want to talk to her, she kindly put a permanent sticking charm on her portrait at her house.”

Sirius shook his head.

“No one needs to see that. Y/n, I can’t apologize enough! I’m sure you’ve moved on...but I…”

You held a hand up.

“Nope. I have gone on a few dates but nothing came of it. They weren’t you.”

Sirius wrapped his hands around your waist. He leaned down kissing you softly.

“I’m right here, love. I’m not asking you to jump in bed with me but I wouldn’t fight you off if you wanted to.”

You didn’t move your mouth too far from him.

“We’ve both probably changed in the past 13 years.”

Sirius nodded.

“We certainly have. Doesn't mean that we can’t make it work though. I want to be a part of yours and Matilda’s lives...even though I kind of have to lay low until that damned rat is caught again.”

You knew that it was probably stupid to just throw yourself back into Sirius’ arms full force but you didn’t care. Hearing him say that he didn’t do it and that it was Peter Pettigrew (as a letter from Remus said the day before) was enough. You knew that you may end up regretting going full steam ahead but neither Sirius nor yourself were good at controlling ourselves around each other.

This may be a good lesson for Matilda.

“Come with me.”

You whispered before turning and walking toward the bathroom. Sirius didn’t have to be told twice. He knew what you wanted. Pulling the jumper over his head, Sirius waited for you to get the shower going. You glanced over your shoulder with an innocent expression that his already forming erection began to throb. It was “that look” that you could always get him going.

“Still like shower sex, huh?”

You smiled and started undoing the buttons of your dress.

“That hasn’t changed. We’ll be all wet and slippery. I haven’t had sex in 13 years so extra wetness doesn’t hurt.”

You had to fight the urge to giggle at the expression on Sirius’ face.

“Hurry up and get that damned dress off, woman.”

15 minutes later, you stood wrapped in Sirius’ arms as the hot water soaked your joined bodies. Your eyes were closed in ecstasy as he rocked into you. Both of you had both come moments before but the delicious feeling of your bodies together again was enough to keep both of you going.

“You’re not going to change your mind tomorrow, are you?”

Sirius asked as his right hand continued to squeeze your breasts greedily. You shook your head.

“I don’t want you to go….ever. Matilda, Harry, and I need you too.”

It wasn’t a lie. You needed Sirius more than he knew. There was no way that you could go back to the single life after making love to him again. You would be inconsolable without him again.

Your only hope now was that the two of you could navigate the very new parameters of your relationship

_____

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@authoressskr

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@hankypranky

@stuckinsaudi1

@knight-of-gleefulness

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

@li0nh34rt

@tas898

@marichromatic

@maggioli-m

@emiwrites3reads

@shitfaceddaniel

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@mycuddlycorner

@deanwherescas

@sprnaturallover

@wontlookaway

@shaylybaby2032

#Harry Potter #Harry Potter AU #Sirius Black #Sirius Black x Reader #Remus Lupin #Walburga Black #Regulus Black #orion black #the ancient and noble house of Black #Ben Barnes as Sirius Black #timothee chalamet as regulus black #harry potter fan fic #Sirius Black fics #Second Chance #Second Chance update

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skyburned · 4 years

Photo

This is the fourth installment of my family history background set and the last. With Gabe I leave the second generation of the Lombardo family and enter the third, and the plots and families become too tangled to summarize. Gabe is a major character in Intermezzo even if he never shows up alive (not saying he won’t) so he belongs here.

Rereading some of the old stuff I wrote about this guy makes miss him. I think I’m going to post 2 short old chapters here. Very old and cranky and rough but right now given the whole world, so what if sims stuff isn’t perfect.

The Lombardo Family

Gabe Lombardo

"The Legendary Gabe" - a title his third generation teenage cousin Autumn Taylor mockingly calls him. He looms within the family, his persona inescapable, his reputation mythologically glamorous. Like most myths, a lot of it is total shit.

Raised by a distracted father after the death of his mother, Gabe learned early how to take care of himself. He was more attached to his Uncle Tony than he was to his own father. When Gabe managed to retrieve his uncle’s real son, he did not adjust well to the loss of that semi-paternal attention. He was young, and the loss was unexpected, and he resented Rafe from the beginning.

Camilla, only a year older, lived in the same neighborhood and they were close from as far back as he could remember. She was virtually his sister. He found her amusing but intimidating, challenging and maddening, and absolutely trustworthy. She might refuse to join him and would mock him, as he would her, but they laughed a lot and she never let him down. From childhood to the day he disappeared Gabe considered her the only friend he ever had.

Apart from Camilla, Gabe had one longstanding relationship, a romantic one with a girl he dated from the time they were young teens, someone he fought Rafe for and eventually won – Amanda. He never broke it off, always returned, knew she loved him and may have loved her as well. When he disappeared he left without saying goodbye, but he knew he was in trouble and he left her with regret.

Intelligent, analytical, cool under pressure, tied in with everything and everybody, physically stunning and charismatic, he could be dangerous to cross. He was also a lot of fun as long as you remembered he was sort of a sociopath. Gabe was a gambler and a con-man and a minor thief. He enjoyed himself immensely when causing chaos or helping Camilla to crash or wreck or solve something difficult.

There was that time though when he rescued a little girl lost on a beach, knowing he was probably asking for trouble, not knowing he would change her whole life, her family’s life, the lives of many people, a whole web of people in many different ways with that one act of mercy. He gave her his knife to hold when she demanded to see a sword since he was a ‘prince’ (a title she bestowed on him, not one he chose, and one that outraged Rafe). Years later she still kept that knife secreted safely in her jewelry box, and remembered him whispering to her when he knew who she was and just before Rafe drove her home: You’re going to need a sharp sword Rayne Stanfield, and I may as well be the one to give it to you. (Throughout her young life she expected and hoped he would return to rescue her from heartbreak, disillusionment and addiction, but he never did, of course.)

Gabe disappeared under mysterious circumstances. He borrowed a lot of money from disreputable people, couldn’t pay it back, and expected them to try to kill him. They might have. Or not. Nobody knows. Just before he vanished he risked his own life to give Rafe information he needed to use against his mother. If he hadn’t taken the time to gather it and send it, his chance of escape would have been much better. He did it for family, Camilla would say, grieving and inconsolable. What Gabe would say nobody knows but revenge was probably part of it. The sheer satisfaction in taking down a far more powerful adversary might have been the better part. It wasn’t for love of Rafe.

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

Longer than I wanted it to be. Thank you for going through all this with me! And thank you @thewynd for the years of mercy yourself.

#sims 2 #family background #Lombardo Family #Gabe Lombardo #thewynd #Intermezzo

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 4 years

Text

Decryption_Error: “Catastrophic Failure”

Summary: Y/N does everything she can to help Elliot one last time.

Warnings: Angst, Discussion of DID and Mental Health

A/N: * = dialogue taken directly and/or paraphrased from the show; ** = researched tech stuff (not my thoughts/ideas)

Word Count: 6767

Decryption_Error: All Chapters

I blinked away a drugged sleep as my phone blared. I thought I had silenced it, but then again, my overreliance on my anxiety meds was making everything muddled.

Elliot 🖤

I had to be dreaming.

I hadn’t heard from Elliot since he walked away from me on Coney Island a week ago.

I had to be dreaming, but I could still hear the warble of my ringtone and I could feel the vibrations of my phone as I stared at his name.

I touched my thumb stupidly to the green icon and slid it to answer, expecting no one to be on the other end.

“Hello?”

“I need you to come out to your parents’ house. There’s not a lot … not a lot of time. Please.”

“Elliot?” I questioned, my pulse quickening at the edge of desperation in his voice. “Please tell me this is really you.”

A harsh, shuffling sound made me pull the phone slightly away from my ear, then the line went dead.

I lowered my phone to stare at the screen as it went black, but the persistent hammering of my heart reminded me that really did happen and I needed to move … fast.

I fumbled my way through the dark and into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face to clear my head. I brushed my teeth as I walked into the closet and pulled on my still-sandy jeans and jostled into my also-still-sandy sweater from the night not-Elliot walked away from me. I yanked my sweater down as it caught on my toothbrush before I rushed back into the bathroom to rinse.

I stumbled as I slid into my sneakers, but when a small pile of sand fell out of the tread, I stared at it, remembering the story Elliot told me about a day he and his father played hooky and went to the beach. When he got home, his sneakers were full of sand and he dumped them on his bedroom floor. His mother was furious, but his father wasn’t. Elliot had said he often thought about that moment, about how difficult it would be to take enough sand away from that beach, shoe-full by shoe-full to make a difference in the landscape.*

“Is that what you really want, El?” I asked as his fingers ran through my hair while I laid with my head in his lap, looking up and watching his chin move as he spoke. “To change the world?”

“I don’t know. It takes so long to make any real change. What if I don’t have the stomach for it?”*

“Well,” I said slowly, smiling as I reached up to angle his face so he looked down at me, his own mouth mirroring my soft smile as he waited for me to continue. “It didn’t take you all that long to change my life.”

“Has it been a good change?” he asked as his smile grew to a grin.

“The best change,” I answered as my happy grin paralleled Elliot’s, our exchange of mirrored smiles offering the perfect evidence for how we had changed each other’s lives for the best.

I gasped for a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding as that memory assaulted me.

“Fuck!” I yelled into the void of my closet as I pushed away the sweetness of the memory and forced my mind back to the agony of the present.

I adjusted my shoes, and tore out of the bedroom, only slowing my pace as I passed the guest room. I offered a prayer to anything listening that my parents stayed fast asleep.

After Elliot was fired and I didn’t answer my dad’s phone calls, he came to my apartment. I had managed to keep myself together for the rest of the work week, but the second I saw my dad, the dam inside of me broke.

I clung to him as he cradled me on the sofa, reduced to an inconsolable child as the heartbreak of losing Elliot flooded through me.

Mom and Dad cancelled their Memorial Day plans, even though it was going to be the first once since they had officially moved into the Greenwich house. Kath decided to host Josh’s family at their place, and Erin, Ryan, and Charlie decided to fly down to Palm Beach for the weekend. Each of my siblings did their best to cajole me into joining them, but they all knew I wasn’t going to.

Mom then made a very loud proclamation to anyone who would listen that she and my dad would stay with me in the city until I was “feeling more like myself.”

I didn’t have the strength to fight her, and although I was hesitant to admit it, having my parents to take care of me as my world fell apart helped.

After grabbing my bag, I shut the door to my apartment as quietly as I could, and as I waited for the elevator, I glanced at my phone to check the time.

2:07 am

I tried not to think that exactly one year ago, Elliot was asleep in my bed after we had a picnic and had gotten high, both of us basking in feelings that came at the beginning of a relationship, both of our hearts identical twins of hope for the possibility of an “us.”

I fumbled with the door to my SUV and settled in, slapping my cheeks to shake off the remnants of my meds. As a final thought, I checked my call history just to make sure everything still had really happened.

Elliot 🖤 1:54 am

I put the car in reverse, and quickly made my way out of the city.

* * * * *

I was rigid with fear as I finally pulled into my parents’ house, my stomach in knots and my head aching from clenching my jaw for the entire drive.

Considering Elliot’s phone call, I was unsurprised that the front door was unlocked.

Opening it slowly, I stepped into the pitch-black entryway, my eyes scanning the dark for any movement. I moved to check the alarm system, but it had already been disabled.

As my eyes adjusted, I looked to the staircase but changed my mind and made my way to my dad’s office—the office where Elliot and I had stopped the hackers over the Fourth of July weekend.

There was a light coming from Dad’s office, the familiar muted wash of a computer screen’s glow.

I pushed into the room with caution, my gaze settling on Elliot as he was seated at my dad’s computer, his fingers working at a pace that would’ve been deemed brutal for anyone else.

“Elliot?”

He never took his eyes off the screen, nor did his fingers falter as he replied, “No.”

“Why would you call me?”

“I didn’t,” not-Elliot said as he finally stopped typing and raised his eyes to mine, his cheek bright red with what would surely be a nasty bruise in a few hours.

“You hurt him?”

“He was getting in our way.”

“Our? As in you and Mr. Robot? So you’re a team now?”

Anger spurned my body into motion. I rushed to the desk and kicked the chair so it rolled him away from the computer.

He didn’t fight me.

I glared at him, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. I turned away to look at the monitor, my eyes narrowing in concentration as I worked to figure out what he was running.

My mouth dropped open when I realized I was looking at Dream Market, one of the largest data dump markets on the Dark Web. It had only been running for a little over a year and was only accessible with anonymity software, but it was the place to go if you wanted data … or drugs. **

He had used Tor to access Dream Market. Tor was an acronym derived from The Onion Project, which used onion routers to effectively encrypt user traffic that passed IP addresses through a complex of Tor nodes. Those “onion layers” protected any user's anonymity by providing access to similarly protected websites, thus a virtual, back-alley marketplace was born. **

“You dumped Precision Machining’s data. You—you put it up for sale.”

“Only the board members’ data.”

“Why? Why?!” I asked as I bent over the keyboard, too far out of my skillset to even know how to start retrieving the stolen information.

“This can all go away, sweetheart.”

I froze at the switched intonation which meant I was now dealing with Mr. Robot. I stepped back and looked over at him, Elliot’s entire demeanor changed from focused on the hack and disconnected in his interaction with me, to disconnected from the hack and very, very focused on me.

“This can all go away if I leave Elliot alone.”

“Elliot does like a girl with a brain,” Mr. Robot said as he put his hands on top of his head and leaned back in my dad’s chair.

“What happened to … the other one? The hacker?”

Mr. Robot laughed as he leaned farther back in the chair, confident in his knowledge that he had total control of this situation.

“I’m the only one Elliot really needs. Problem was he lost sight of our plan, thanks to you.”

“Plan?”

Mr. Robot leaned forward, shifting his feet before he stood up, slowly. His movements were more relaxed, more confident than Elliot’s; the way he walked with purpose and the fact that he never dropped his gaze made me understand why he was Elliot’s protector.

“Elliot needs to keep busy. It’s good for him. And the shit you had him doing at his cushy Wall Street job wasn’t cutting it. Not to mention all the lovey-dovey crap—'let’s talk about our feeelings’ all the fucking time. Jesus Christ.

“It was only a matter of time before he needed a … a challenge. You see, sometimes he dreams about saving the world. Saving everyone from an invisible hand, one that brands them with an employee badge. One that forces them to work for people like your old man. People who control us every day without us knowing it. Except that Elliot does know it because I never let him forget it.”*

I listened, unsurprised by Mr. Robot’s words. I knew Elliot thought about those things. I knew he struggled to reconcile being normal with being complacent. But I also knew now that Elliot was angry about something that had nothing to do with the injustices of the world, something that Mr. Robot was working his ass off to keep from him.

“That’s not what this is about and you know it. This,” I said gesturing to the screen, “is an illusion. It’s something you’ve come up with to stop him from getting too close to the secret you’ve worked so hard to protect. Aren’t you tired, Mr. Robot? Aren’t you tired of hurting him for the sake of protecting him? Of keeping Elliot from a truth he needs to know in order to move on—”

“There is no moving on because there is no hard reset that can be done if Elliot remembers!” Mr. Robot growled as he stepped toward me, his face inches from mine.

I stumbled back, my hip bumping against the desk.

“If he remembers, if he learns the truth, it will break him.”

I will never forget the way Mr. Robot’s eyes, the same yet not at all the same as Elliot’s, flashed with pain as I said, “Maybe you’re too scared he won’t need you anymore if he learns the truth. Maybe it’s you that can’t handle the possibility of it healing him instead of breaking him.”

“You know nothing about Elliot, nothing about us! You were just our playground, little girl,” Mr. Robot spat as he grabbed my arm and twisted me toward the computer screen. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pushed my head close to the monitor.

“Everything a hacker would need to take down the company your father built is right there, waiting for the highest bidder,” he said with a final shove of my head before he let me go.

I held myself up with shaky arms, tears stinging at my eyes as I realized this was his ultimatum. There was no reasoning with Mr. Robot because he only had one source of hunger; he desired nothing other than to protect Elliot, even if that meant sacrificing the thing that had made him the happiest he had been in his adult life.

I finally accepted that I didn’t have the strength to fight Mr. Robot. If he was already able to use the only other part of Elliot I got close to against me, it was two against one. It would tear Elliot apart to keep him—if I fought for him, I would be the one breaking him.

“If—” my voice faltered, choked by the sob of despair that had built within me as I realized what I had to do.

“If I swear to—to delete Elliot from my life, will you give him back control? Will you take back the hack?”

Before Mr. Robot could answer, the sound of sirens infiltrated my dad’s office. My head whipped toward the door and I could see lights flashing through the house as the police pulled into the driveway.

“You called the police?” Mr. Robot asked, panic evident in his normally confident tone.

He moved to the office door and peered out into the house, the sound of footsteps pounding across the porch causing his mouth to drop open as he drew in deeper breaths.

I shook my head.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Well someone sure as fuck did!”

“Maybe my dad heard me leave. Maybe—”

“Maybe I don’t give a fuck! Now listen to me,” Mr. Robot said, his teeth bared as he walked back to stand in front of me. “If I go to jail, Elliot goes to jail. Is that what you want?”

“No.”

“Get him out of this and I’ll make sure the hack is reversed.”

“THIS IS THE POLICE! Y/N Y/L/N, IF YOU ARE ABLE, COME TO THE DOOR.”

“How am I supposed to help him if you won’t let me see him again?”

“Do you really want me to bring him back now? Into this mess?!”

“Y/N Y/L/N! ARE YOU IN DANGER? IF YOU DO NOT RESPOND IN 30 SECONDS, WE WILL BREAK DOWN THE DOOR.”

“Promise I’ll see him again? Please.”

“You don’t have the power to bargain!”

“Let me at least say goodbye and I’ll make sure he stays out of jail. Money talks, in case you’re too high on your fucking horse to remember that!”

Mr. Robot’s eyes bore into mine as he decided whether to trust me or to take his luck with the penal system.

I pressed, “And you still have to reverse the hack—I can’t help Elliot stay out of jail if that data gets sold.”

The front door splintered and my foot jumped to the powerstrip under my dad’s desk. I paused near the button, waiting for Mr. Robot’s answer before plunging us into darkness.

“Fine—I undo the hack, you get to say goodbye, then you stay the fuck out of his life. Or else we do this alllll over again, princess.”

I nodded my agreement to his terms.

Mr. Robot jumped back from the doorway as a crunch of noise indicated the front door had been flung open.

A rush of movement flooded into the house.

“Put your hands on your head and don’t move!” I ordered as I kicked off the powerstrip under dad’s desk before rushing out of the office, my hands on my head as I stood in front of the door.

“He’s unarmed! He’s not a threat! He’s not a threat!” I repeated as an officer moved toward me and pulled me away from the office door, ushering me outside to safety.

The other two policemen entered Dad’s office and instructed Mr. Robot to get down on his knees.

As soon as my feet touched the sidewalk, I saw my dad pull in behind one of the cruisers. He leapt out of the car, not even bothering to cut the ignition.

I was bubbling with anger as I shook off the policeman’s grasp and crossed the lawn.

“How could you?!” I yelled before my mouth went dry and I felt a churning in my gut. As I was forced to quell my anger or end up being sick on our front lawn, I looked at my dad’s face; it was so filled with worry that for the first time in my life, he looked every bit his age.

He never stopped moving toward me and grabbed me in a fierce hug when he finally reached me. He tried to shield me from watching who he knew as Elliot being escorted into the police cruiser, but I pushed out of his grasp, needing to know that Mr. Robot hadn’t abandoned the person we both loved at a time when he really did need his protector.

There was nothing in his demeanor that signaled a return to Elliot as Mr. Robot calmly slid into the backseat of the cruiser, his hands cuffed, his face a stoical mask.

“You need to tell the police why he broke into our home, Y/N,” my dad said from somewhere behind me.

“Absolutely not.”

“I love you, Y/N, but you are not thinking clearly!” my dad reprimanded, uncharacteristically raising his voice.

“Of course I am!”

“It’s been him all along. All the hacks—I know it has.”

“That wasn’t him—not entirely.”

“What? Like a hacking ring?”

I laughed, a crazy tittering that felt so out of place on our pristine lawn in front of our huge house. My father had no idea how right he was.

I turned to him to explain, “The person who broke in tonight wasn’t the Elliot you’ve met. He has Dissociative Identity Disorder but he doesn’t know he has it. It’s complicated.”

My father’s face didn’t lose its sternness as he considered what I just told him.

“I know you love him, sweetheart, but—”

“He needs help, Dad,” I begged. “He needs us to be the family he doesn’t have.”

As an officer approached and began asking a series of questions, my mind wondered back to all the quiet dreams I had about a future with Elliot, many of those dreams beginning in this house over the Fourth of July. Now, I felt like my whole world had gone grey; there was no bright goodness to be found in white, no rift of black to clearly signal evil, and no limitless possibilities held within all the bright colors between. Everything was just … grey.

“At this time, are you aware of any reason the subject in custody may have broken into your home?”

I snapped out of my thoughts and looked at my father.

“… No. No, officer. I am not.”

I leaned into him, welcoming his strong arm as it wrapped protectively around my shoulders.

* * * * *

A few hours later, our family lawyer, Thea, met us at the Greenwich Police Department. My dad filled her in as we sat in the waiting area, but I could tell by the frown on her face that Elliot’s case had the potential to be difficult.

“Connecticut has pretty strict laws on burglary—”

“He wasn’t stealing.”

Thea knew better than to ask anything else.

“It’s very helpful you aren’t filing additional charges. If I can swing it, I’d like to get the burglary charge changed to trespassing, then plead out at arraignment. That’s only if I can’t get it dismissed.”

I took a deep breath and spoke slowly, scared that somehow Mr. Robot would hear me.

“The charge can’t be dismissed because Elliot needs court-mandated therapy. He … he won’t go otherwise.”

“Does he have a documented mental illness?”

“Not documented, no. I was thinking … what if you could get him ordered to therapy for anger management?”

“Did he destroy any property at the house?”

“What if he intended to, but was interrupted? There’s … the possibility of establishing a pattern of behavior.”

Thea thought for a moment, then put her hand up when she saw me open my mouth again.

“I don’t want to know anything else until I talk to Mr. Alderson. Based on the police report and your cooperation, I have enough now to try to downgrade to a trespassing charge. We aren’t in the city, so I don’t know anything about the judge on the docket. I’m going to make a few calls and see if I can find anything out.

“Elliot should be out of booking by now and in a holding room.”

“Can I see him?”

“Not until I do.”

“Charles Y/L/N?” interrupted a policeman who introduced himself as Captain Neiley. “The Chief told me to make sure you had anything you needed—Tony gave him a call early this morning.”

“Thank you,” Dad replied earnestly, shaking the Captain’s hand.

Because of my father’s connections, I soon found myself peering into a small, concrete room from behind the glass of a very small window, much smaller than the ones on television, as Elliot, or rather Mr. Robot, interacted with Thea.

I could tell it was not going well by the twist of Thea’s mouth and by the way Mr. Robot refused to look in her direction, much less sit down and talk to her. He was distrustful, and clearly, angry.

I looked around for an officer and when I found one, I asked her if she could get my attorney out. She nodded and unlocked the door, signaling for Thea.

“You shouldn’t be here right now, Y/N.”

“He’ll talk, but not to you … not yet. I need to tell him it’s safe.”

Thea sighed and bowed her head. She shrugged her shoulders as she looked back up and answered, “Go ahead. But anything he says to you is not going to help—he needs to talk to me.”

The officer opened the door again and when I walked into the room, I saw that Mr. Robot had finally sat down. As he looked at me, a war started to take place behind his eyes. He was silent for a long, long time and I just stood by the door with my back pressed against it, waiting to see if Mr. Robot would let go.

Finally, I saw it—the same subtle fluttering of his eyes as the night in my apartment.

“Y/N?” Elliot asked, both his voice and his eyes raw with vulnerability.

“Elliot,” I stated, unable to hold back my tears at finally seeing him again.

“I’m here to help, El,” I choked out, “but you—all of you--have to let me help you.”

Elliot’s eyes filled with pools of tears before he shifted, his gaze on the steel of the table and his hands cradling his head.

“I can’t remember … only fragments and—” he looked up suddenly, his face turning to stare into the empty corner of the room where Mr. Robot had been standing before he sat down.

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

Elliot’s head whipped back in my direction, his eyes widening, his mouth falling open in horror.

“I know about Mr. Robot. It’s okay, Elliot. I’ve met him.”

“No—nobody knows about him.”

“He protects you.”

“Can you see him, too?”

“No, El. I can’t. I just know … it’s hard to explain, but I know you sometimes see him. It’s rare, but sometimes that’s just what happens with people like you.”

“In my mind,” Elliot groaned. “He’s only supposed to be in my mind.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry things have gotten this bad.”

“Oh god,” he moaned, his hands pulling hard at his hair as he rocked back in his seat. “I’m crazy—I’m a fucking schizo and you’re committing me.”

“Tell him what happened tonight,” I said, my eyes flicking to the corner to indicate I wanted Mr. Robot to talk to Elliot.

Elliot looked to the corner again. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the room was silent. Whatever happened between Elliot and Mr. Robot did, indeed, only happen in his mind.

As I waited, I thought back to my research on DID, and I knew Elliot was in an extremely vulnerable state. I also knew what it meant to have his alters interact with me—I needed to be very careful not to break Mr. Robot’s trust since we had made a deal.

After a few minutes passed, Elliot sprang out of his chair and leapt toward the wall, his fist slamming into the concrete with a sick thud.

Elliot left his fist against the wall and leaned into it, tears streaming down his face as he broke down.

I rushed to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, molding my body to his and pressing into his back.

“It’s okay, Elliot. It’s okay. I’m here,” I soothed, my own tears flowing in a fresh wave because of his pain.

His hand fell away from the wall and he brought it to rest over my arms.

I pulled him away from the wall and turned him to face me, his legs buckling and both of us sliding to the floor. I pulled him to me, so much like that night in my closet during the Fourth of July.

“I’m here. I’m here, Elliot. I’m here.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry,” he said, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into my neck, his tears wet and smearing into my skin.

“He didn’t give me a choice—I had to do the ha—”

“You can’t talk about any of that right now. Not until you talk to the lawyer.”

“I hurt you—your father, your family,” Elliot said, his voice a dull rasp as he finally looked up at me, his cheeks a wet mess. I shifted to my knees so I could cradle his face in my hands; I wiped at his tears, careful to avoid the bruise on his cheek that had changed from red to an ugly burgundy, smoothed his brows, and swiped at his nose with the sleeve of my sweater.

As I touched him, he hiccupped, his breath evening out as he pulled himself together.

I kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose.

“Listen,” I said, holding his face in my hands and pushing his chin up with my thumbs. “I need you to talk to Thea, our lawyer. She’s going to help us.”

“Us,” Elliot whispered, a single tear falling from the corner of his eye and sliding down the side of my thumb.

“For now, but Mr. Robot wants me to let you go.”

Elliot frowned and leaned back, his head resting on the wall as I let my hands fall away from his face. A part of him clearly still hoped I could be in this with him, but we both knew I couldn’t be.

“I’m so tired of fighting him, Y/N. He’s … persistent.”

“Yeah. So I noticed,” I said with a quick upturn of my lips, watching as Elliot’s eyes continued to look at the ceiling.

“You need to be the one to talk to Thea. Mr. Robot needs to let you stay in control. Will you, and I mean YOU, I said waving in the direction of Mr. Robot but keeping my eyes trained on Elliot’s face, stay buried so he can get out of this mess?”

Elliot looked over and up at Mr. Robot with a ferocity I hadn’t seen before.

His eyes returned to mine and he nodded.

“There’s something else.”

Elliot’s brows contracted as he looked at my face.

I moved close to him, slowly wrapping my arms around his neck in a hug. I turned toward his ear, whispering, “The data dump on the Dark Web—can you make it disappear?”

Elliot pulled me into the hug, his mouth nestling in next to my ear as he reached up to grasp my hair, burying his face in it.

“I built a security during the hack. If a password wasn’t entered every 45 minutes, the data would disappear from the Market. It’s gone now.”

I squeezed him and he tightened his grip as he inhaled, trying to lose himself in the scent of me.

“Just like that night I needed to find you. Coney Island. You left your computer logged on.”

“Yes,” he answered, his confirmation a low, comforting rumble.

“Can you—will you stay with me until this is all over?”

“Thea has to talk to you alone, but I’ll be right outside. I’ll go every step of the way that I can with you—as long as Mr. Robot lets me.”

Elliot swallowed thickly, and I pulled away from him. We looked into each other’s eyes until the door opened, then he cast his gaze to the floor.

“Ready to talk, Mr. Alderson?”

* * * * *

Over an hour later, I almost jumped out of my skin when Thea finally emerged from the holding room.

Dad had insisted I eat something, but since I refused to leave, he ran out and got breakfast. I ate enough to make him satisfied, but just as I rounded the corner to throw away our trash, I heard the door open.

I rushed back and caught the door, needing to see Elliot again.

“You’re right, Y/N,” Thea said quietly. “Elliot doesn’t belong in prison, but he needs, at a minimum, a few months of court-mandated therapy. He … destroyed some servers at CIStech?”

My dad frowned, remembering the incident that brought Elliot and I together.

“It was never a romantic story to begin with, Dad,” I said as I rolled my eyes.

I turned my attention back to Thea and asked what that had to do with anything.

“You took care of that one, huh?”

“I did.”

Thea looked at me for a long moment, then began, “There is no way for the DA to prove that Elliot had the intent of committing a criminal act while on your property unless you or your dad have something—”

“We don’t.”

My father shook his head no, and Thea’s mouth quirked up at the corner, “Of course not.”

“How long will this take?”

“I’m taking my offer to the DA now. If they agree to it, the judge may rule at arraignment and this whole thing could be over today.”

“Thank you, Thea. Can I say goodbye?”

“Be quick because Elliot is going to be moved to a holding room outside of the court, soon. I’ll see you over there.”

“Thank you,” I said again before pulling the door open.

Before the door even shut, Elliot stood and began pacing, his voice raspy with overuse as he started talking.

“I have to give you up. He’s not going to leave me alone until I do. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything I did. I’m sorry for letting him do this to you. I’m sorry—"

“Elliot, slow down,” I said as I crossed the room and intercepted his pacing. He stopped with a start in front of me and stuffed his hands in his hoodie’s pockets.

I reached out and lightly squeezed his shoulders, moving my hands down his biceps, and over his forearms. I felt him relax under my repetitive touches, and when it was clear he wasn’t about to climb the wall, I stepped closer and slid my hands into his hoodie’s pockets.

“How’s your hand?” I asked, feeling the swollen knuckles of his right hand in comparison to the unaffected left.

“That’s how this whole thing started,” Elliot said, pulling both of our hands out of his pockets. His shook as he held onto mine. “You took such good care of me.”

“I kept you prisoner in my apartment.”

“And here we are now,” Elliot said with a small smile.

My heart ached at how easy this was with him … how easy it was when it was just him.

“I hate this,” Elliot said in agony as he searched my face, surely sensing that I was on the verge of falling apart again.

I looked into his big grey eyes and let myself get lost, swept back into the love I felt for him, knowing this could be the last time I ever saw him.

“I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry for whatever happened that made you need Mr. Robot. You need to figure out what’s at the root of all of this, why you keep forgetting, and I’m not the one who can do that for you. But you know what? I am going to make sure you have a real chance at getting professional help.”

“I know,” Elliot said, lowering his eyes but still holding on to my hands.

“Know what else? I love you.”

Elliot’s eyes snapped back up to mine, and again, I saw a fierce determination unlike anything I’d ever seen in his eyes before.

“I’m gonna be happy with you someday, Y/N. I’m gonna love you like you love me.”

I held his gaze as I shook off the grip of his hands to reach up and cradle his face.

“You have to love yourself first, Elliot. Mr. Robot is never going to let go of his control as long as you need him to…meet whatever need it is you need met.”

“I’m never going to forget you loved me first—never.”

As if all the pieces of my heart weren’t already broken, I knew that wasn’t true. Mr. Robot was going to delete me. Elliot was never going to remember that someone loved him first. All I could hope for was that Mr. Robot was listening right now, a part of him feeling compassionate enough to allow Elliot to one day restore a previous version of himself, this version.

“Will you wait for me? I know I don’t have a right to ask, but have I earned the right to hope that you will?”

Before I could answer him, an officer opened the door and said it was time to move to the courthouse.

I melted into Elliot’s arms, and he hugged me. I felt determination radiate from him.

He’s so much stronger than Mr. Robot thinks.

I pulled back, knowing the officer was waiting, and I reached up to cup his face one more time. I memorized his face until my eyes filled with tears and he became a blur. I blinked away those tears and I tried to absorb the love that so clearly emanated from his beautiful eyes.

I leaned in to kiss Elliot, and he pressed his entire body into mine, molding his lips against mine as if our mouths had been designed from conception just to connect like this in this single moment.

I knew he could taste the salt of my tears as I broke the kiss and managed to look at him one last time before my vision blurred again and I rushed out the door. I only just made it to the bathroom in time to throw up everything I ate, and as I knelt on the worn, green and white bathroom floor, surrounded by the smell of bleach that tried its best to cover up the stench of urine and failed, my grief finally pulled me under and I let myself drown. Then, for the second time in less than a week, I felt my father’s arms tighten around me as I fell apart.

—Narrator—

November 2014

Mr. Robot whispered to Elliot as he worked, reassuring him this was for the best. Seeing Darlene on Halloween for the first time in over five months reopened a chasm of loneliness Elliot hadn’t felt since—

“You’re really fucking this up, kiddo,” Mr. Robot said from where he was leaning against the wall. “This is what happens when you don’t stick to the plan. You’ve got to get that job at Allsafe with Angela.”

“I know. For fuck’s sake, I know,” Elliot growled as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

His hand reached to click the mouse as he dragged all of the pictures on his phone onto the CD sitting in his drive.

“No, son,” Mr. Robot said as Elliot popped the disk out of the drive. “You’re not done yet.”

Elliot looked at him, his brows drawn in confusion.

“Why can’t you just tell me why we have to keep doing this?”

“You’re not ready to know, Elliot. You created me to be your protector; you have to trust me to do what’s best to keep you safe. So … be a part of this, or I can do it myself. Either way, everything, except Angela, has got to go.”

As Elliot pushed the CD that would hold all of his memories back into the drive, Master Mind watched.

And more importantly, Master Mind waited.

He knew he had one chance at this, exactly one chance to take control and to fix everything Mr. Robot had done. He had one chance to make the world a place where Elliot could finally be happy without condition. He had one chance to restore Elliot’s previous version, effectively recovering all the data Mr. Robot had been deleting over the past few months.

“Alright, kiddo,” Mr. Robot said as Elliot tucked the unlabeled CD into the otherwise empty black binder and tossed it to the floor, kicking it under his bookshelf. “It’s time.

Elliot took a deep breath as he prepared to relinquish control to Mr. Robot, trusting in his protector, but just before Mr. Robot could take over, Master Mind seized his chance.

Elliot’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening, but it was too late; as Master Mind took complete control for the first time, Elliot slipped into a black void.

* * * * *

Elliot Alderson sat in the waiting room of the third cybersecurity firm he had interviewed with. This one, though, seemed different. He liked that it didn’t hide who it was.

“CIStech: Always Vigilant” read the sign on the glass door he had pushed open only a few minutes ago.

Yes, Elliot decided he definitely liked this company, so far. Being vigilant was smart. Too many people were happy to live without awareness, happy to live in their bubbles of the naïve just so they could feel good until someone told them what else they neededto have to keep feeling good.*

Elliot cleared his throat as he heard his name announced over the intercom at the secretary’s desk.

“Jayne? Bring in Mr. Alderson, please.”

He was drawn to that voice on the intercom. He liked it—confident, but kind.

Elliot shifted in his seat, ready to stand.

He took a deep breath as he followed the secretary into what was clearly meant to be a friendly, comfortable atmosphere. Instead of a large panel of interviewers, it was just three people. Instead of interviewing in a board room, it was in an office with a round table.

Like equals, Elliot thought. Except they’ve got the power to decide what happens next in my life.

“Mr. Alderson,” a man began, extending his hand. “I’m Colin Greene, Supervisor.

Fuck. They’re hand-shakers.

Elliot followed protocol, reminding himself that his was how to play the game. He shook the second Supervisor’s hand, and then—

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N, Senior Manager.”

Elliot stared at Y/N, finally remembering that she was waiting for him to shake her hand, but Elliot felt afraid to touch her.

What if I touch her and she disappears? Like some kind of dream?

Elliot almost laughed out loud at that thought, but something pulsed inside of him, something that made him long to touch this stranger who seemed so familiar to him, who seemed like someone so much more important than a Supervisor at a mediocre cybersecurity firm.

A surge of excitement coursed through Elliot as he extended his hand, not knowing what was going to happen next. As his eyes locked onto the stranger’s, he watched as a sweet smile pulled at her lips, a smile that made him feel safe.

And for a reason he couldn’t explain, made him feel loved.

GIF Credit: @s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r

A/N 2.0: Thank you, thank you, thank you for going on this journey with me. Your comments, likes, and reblogs kept me moving along even when I wanted nothing more than to throw my computer out of the window and give up. I put a lot into this story, and it is the longest thing I’ve ever written. I would love to know how you felt about the story or if you have anything you want to ask/discuss, so hit me up with a comment or an ask.

I love Elliot, and I am so glad you do, too. Thank you for indulging me, as always. -xMx ❤️

Tags: @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash @teamwolf2411 @limabein @txmel @alottanothing @ouatlovr @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @moon-stars-soul @free-rami @ramimedley @hopplessdreamer @sweet-charmie @polarcrystall @hah0106 @clumsybookworm18 @diasimar @ramisgirl512 @aboutthatmelancholystorm

And a special thank you tag to my cheerleader who gives me the best comments with so many pterodactyl screeches that my heart soars every time I read them. Thank you @alottanothing!

A/N 3.0: All of my research on DID indicates that while there are many commonalities, every system is pretty unique. For example, while many folks who have DID may have a “protector” figure, their protector will function uniquely for the needs of their system. The way I treated DID in this particular fic is a combination of my informal research and just taking what Sam Esmail gave us and working within his parameters. It’s actually super uncommon for alters to manifest and be “seen,” but I stuck with that idea because it was Sam’s and was so integral to the show. I am a singleton, so I am not an expert, nor do I claim to be an authority of any kind when it comes to the incredible complexities of being a system.

#Elliot Alderson #elliot alderson x reader #elliot alderson fanfic #rami malek #rami malek character #mr robot #mr robot fanfiction #mr. robot #mr. robot fanfiction

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deathly-shipper · 4 years

Note

Yes absolutely I want to hear about your Hogwarts au

why, my dear sirs, madams and variations thereupon, thank you for your interest!

(fair warning, this is going to be a long ass post because I have FEELINGS about this ship and this au okay??)

- Donna is muggleborn, but you'd be dead wrong if you think she's going to let anyone make fun of her because of that.

-When she was six her mother told her they weren't going on holiday that year, so off she went to the nearest bus stop and got on the Knight Bus. As if anyone involved in that mad acid trip of a bus would bat an eye to a child climbing on the bus alone, so they merely asked where she wanted to go and little Donna just went "Strathclyde!". Her family found her hours later with the help of the muggle police.

- Her first big show of accidental magic was when she was seven. The other kids at school were making fun of her hair, she got so mad that she turned all the other kids ginger too. Trust her to make others see the other side of things.

- So! Fast forwarding to when she's eleven, one ordinary morning Donna and her family are having breakfast, as you do, and someone knocks at the door. Lo and behold it's Professor McGonagall (seriously considered Snape, just because it would be so entertaining to see him explain the magic world to Donna's family, imagine Sylvia Noble talking to Snape.)

-She explains everything to the family; yes Donna is a witch, she has a place in Hogwarts, no Mrs Noble, tuition is free, etc etc.

- Sylvia is obviously the sceptic "magic isn't real!", Wilf may or may have not done a little dance of happiness, Geoffrey is a little too stunned to speak and Eileen (Donna's Nan) is the only sensible mind in this, bless her.

- The first thing that comes to Donna's mind when she is told she can go to Hogwarts is "So I won't have to go to school with Nerys anymore?" After being told that no, you won't have to, she's just a little bundle of joy, I mean, who wouldn't be when discovering you can do magic?

- Moving on, everything is explained, magic is real and a trip to Diagon Alley is scheduled for the next week!

- Now Ten! Ten is from a pureblood family, but currently the only members of said family are him and his older brother, Braxiatel. Their parents died in the first war against Voldemort.

- Ten spent the majority of his life inside the family's property, so he turned to books for his escape. He particularly likes astronomy, history and magical creatures.

- He hasn't got any friends, the only children his age he ever met are the other pureblood kids, and let's be honest, they aren't much like him, poor lad.

- He meets Donna in Diagon Alley when shopping for books, and when I say meet I mean he almost fell on top of her. She gives him hell for it of course, but they manage to get a conversation going about Hogwarts.

- They go their separate ways and both spend the rest of the summer holidays thinking about that weird kid they met on Diagon Alley.

- September the First arrives and they meet again at King's Cross. Donna's whole family has come to drop her off, of course, and Ten and Brax meet them at the platform.

- Brax explains to them how to get to platform nine and three quarters and goes first to demonstrate. Donna is scared, what if it doesn't work for her? Ten senses it and ask Mr Noble if he can take his trolley for him, so he can push Donna's with her. "Together?" "Together."

- They say goodbye to their families and get on the train, and, like Harry and Ron, manage to get a compartment all to themselves. Conversation goes on about all sorts of topics, the magic world, the muggle world, Hogwarts, the houses, what do they do for fun, you know, a bit of everything.

- They arrive at the station and have to get to school by the little boats, Ten does not like the idea. Donna holds his hand to reassure him. She likes this weird boy who talks about stars and creatures so fantastical she almost doesn't believe him.

- Sorting then. They're both nervous, it is all very intimidating after all, even if the idea of a talking hat is kind of funny to Donna.

-She goes first, sits there for about four minutes. After careful deliberations the hat places her on Hufflepuff. Yes, she could have been a Gryffindor, she is very brave, BUT, she's hard working and kind and compassionate, and I feel like her bravery stems more from her wish to help others you know? and more importantly, she's loyal. so, so much, and that's what seals the deal for me.

- Ten. Now Ten, like Donna, could've been a Gryffindor, but the hat decided on Ravenclaw. STILL, that's not where he went. No, my precious boi Ten argued with the hat. He looked at Donna and saw his only friend, the fiery girl who yelled at him when they met and later held his hand when he was afraid. "I want to go with her" he said to the hat, and so he went.

- Yes, they are both in Hufflepuff. No, I don't take criticism on this. This is my au and I make the rules, Hufflepuff is a great house and anybody who thinks otherwise can get the fuck out.

- Hogwarts is not ready for this duo.

- Regarding classes; Donna loves Charms, she's best in class, Flitwick loves her. Ten likes History of Magic, but Bins is terribly boring so he and Donna study on their own. They always pair up in Potions, not the best in class, but have yet to explode a cauldron. Transfiguration is Ten's area, his family is particularly gifted in this subject. Herbology is more Donna's scene, she used to help her nan with her garden so she likes working in the greenhouses. DADA is anyone's game really, with changing professors like that. Now, they both really like flying and they are good at it. Donna joins the house team as chaser in her third year.

- Ten is the second coming of Newt Scamander. He always drags Donna down to Hagrid's hut to see what creature he has most recently acquired. Has been given detention for wandering in the Forbidden Forest. He's also probably friends with the centaurs.

- A couple years pass, the friendship grows and life is good.

- Third year, Donna "I'm good with numbers" Noble tottaly takes Arithmancy and aces it, Ten too of course. They also take Care for Magical Creatures, to Ten's absolute delight, and Divination. But they take one class with Trelawney and decide to take Ancient Runes instead.

- On their fourth year Harry Potter comes to Hogwarts.

- Donna is one second away from screaming bloody murder at Dumbledore's blatant favouritism.

- Fifth year has all that business with the Chamber of Secrets, Ten and Donna are among the few that don't think Harry is the heir.

- But then Donna gets attacked too. Ten is inconsolable, he spends every moment he can with her in hospital wing. Fortunately she is saved by the mandragora potion with the others.

- Now, in sixth year things start getting Interesting. There's this boy who is interested in Donna and she kind of is too, but she's nervous because she hasn't had her first kiss yet. She tells Ten this. He also hasn't kissed anyone yet and he has one of his Ideas. He suggests to Donna that they can be each other's first kiss. That nearly earns him a slap, but he manages to convince her before she takes action. He says that they're best friends and what are best friends for if not helping each other? So she agrees and he goes all out to make it special for her. He takes her to the Astronomy Tower one night when the stars are out and they sit looking at the sky and hold hands. They see a falling star and he tells her to close her eyes and make a wish, he kisses her then. And that my friends, is when the Pinning starts.

- Sirius Black whom???? All they can think about is that kiss.

- Not that they let that ruin their friendship.

- Also, they love Hagrid teaching, he absolutely let them fly on Buckbeak. And Buckbeak is a strong boi, he took the both of them (cue Ten holding onto to Donna's waist and she going "Hands!" but secretly liking it)

- Seventh year, this is a good one folks. This year we continue with the Pinning, yes, but we also have the Triwizard Tournament!

- They tottaly go to the Quidditch World Cup, but manage to leave before the madness start.

- Meanwhile Harry Potter is dreaming about a slightly older version of Ten and freaking the fuck out.

- Back to Hogwarts and the Tournament. Donna speaks French so she makes friends with some of the Beauxbatons girls. Also, tottaly talks well of Hagrid to Madame Maxime.

- They both put their names on the goblet.

- "And the Hogwarts Champion is Donna Noble!"

- Yep, you read that right, my girl Donna is Hogwarts Champion instead of Cedric.

- The goblet inevitably spews out Harry's name and chaos ensues. BUT, we have something different this time, we have the brilliant Donna Noble. She asks if it really is binding if Harry didn't write his own name, and not his full name at that. And it is also against the rules for a fourth school to compete, and as someone had charm the goblet into allowing a fourth school competitor it is not really valid. The teachers are convinced and Harry doesn't participate. He is eternally grateful to Donna.

- The Weasleys are the first to know about the first task, and Ron tells Harry who in turn tells Donna. He takes her to see the dragons with the invisibility cloak.

- Donna asks Magical Creature Enthusiast Ten for help and they study the dragons they have seen.

- On the actual day Donna gets the Hungarian Horntail, but she uses a spell for it to understand her instead of tricking it. She manages to tell it one of it's eggs is false and convince the dragon to give it to her. Full points for spellwork and pacific solutions.

- Magical Creature Enthusiast Ten also immediately recognises the merpeople sound from the egg, so Donna is the first to figure out her clue.

- What she doesn't know is what it is that she has to recover, but she has a plan as to how. She uses gillyweed and practices the BubbleHead spell just in case.

- But first, Yule Ball. Our continued Pinning is going on full force, but Ten realizes that if he wants to go to the Ball with Donna he has to ask NOW.

- And so he does, with more blood on his face than anywhere else. Donna is a confused but secretly hopeful. "You want to go as friends?" "No Donna, I want you to be my date." "Oh" "If you don't want to that's fine-" "I would love to" cue more blushing.

- Donna is a vision on her Ball dress, Ten is so in love.

- So they dance and laugh and generally have fun. Then Ten takes her to the Astronomy Tower again, and they kiss under the starry sky.

- Back to the tasks then.

- Of course it is Ten waiting to be rescued at the bottom of the lake.

- Donna is the first to get there, but, like Harry, she helps the others too. Still first place though, my girl is efficient like that.

- Ten and Donna cuddle for warmth after getting out of the lake, of course.

- Third Task, the maze. Donna ends up saving Fleur and having to fight Krum. She almost doesn't make it to the cup.

- Moody had to change plans and kidnap Harry since he wouldn't be competing in the Tournament. So Harry is in the graveyard, Voldemort returns, yada yada.

- But they didn't account for Donna getting there too. She arrives during the fight and saves Harry.

- So Donna is Triwizard Champion!

- and Voldemort is back, which is a bummer.

- Ten and Donna graduate and start travelling the world with a blue suitcase that is bigger on the inside and that's all I have for now, thank you for reading!

#ten x donna #doctor x donna #tendonna #doctordonna #hogwarts au #dw #doctor who

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wayward-musings · 4 years

Text

Weeping Willow

Noon was the laziest time of the day for anybody who lived in my neighbourhood. It was the time of the day when streets were empty, roads deserted and, instead of children, lizards lay on the small rocks in the park, basking in the sun. But had anybody chanced to stroll by churchyard street that windy afternoon, they would have seen a greatly dejected figure shuffling along the lane, under the bougainvillea. Shoulders sagging, gait heavy and a small bunch of purple wildflowers clutched in one hand, they would have seen Tom Wylde walking to the cemetery.

It was a peaceful place, the cemetery. Long stalks of grass swept across the lush expanse, dotted in neat rows with headstones of granite and marble. The sun did not glare as it did in other areas, and the wind itself seemed to stand still - A cool draught sometimes chanced to ruffle the stalks of grass.

A tree here, a tree there, a grave in the shade. Another under the willow tree.

Tom Wylde looked across the field and began pacing.

First row, second row, third and fourth. Sixth from the left.

He stood there, looking down at the smooth, simple marble stone, the only mark his mother had left on the mortal world. Etched into the stone were the words :

Jessica Wylde

May her Soul rest in peace.

He brushed off a few stray leaves and sat down. Placing the wildflowers on the headstone, he began.

"Afternoon, Mother," he said, "It's exactly the kind of day you would have liked. Weather's fine, too. Except my day's gone all wrong. " - he gave a shaky laugh - "I got fired, which means I'm unemployed. Unemployed - do you hear that, Mother? I've got no money for food - the landlord's been demanding rent and I've got no money to give him."

He sat quietly, his head between his knees.

"What did you use to say, Mother? 'This too shall pass.' Well, Mother, it seems that this damn well won't. I shall have died of starvation in a few days." He began rocking back and forth, veering on the edge of hysteria. Tears ran freely down his cheeks. "Say something, Mother! Why won't you? Where are you when I need you? You left me when I was so young." - voice faltering - "Come back - I just don't know what to do." He dissolved into tears, and shook fiercely as his body was wracked by sobs.

Anybody who might have chanced to pass by the churchyard that Tuesday afternoon would have seen a man, broken by grief and misery, shaking and drawing in ragged breaths amid heart-wrenching sobs.

Tom Wylde wept his heart out, and just when he thought that he could not produce any more tears, he felt a small hand on his shoulder. He looked up, startled.

It was a young girl - no more than twelve. Her shining golden hair was pulled back with a ribbon, and she wore a spotless pair of dungarees over a bright yellow shirt. Tom Wylde watched, entranced, as the girl smiled, dimples denting her rosy cheeks, and then proceeded to sit herself down on the grass next to him, as if it had been her spot all along.

"I'm Willow Hillman. I heard you crying," she began cheerfully, as if she had not just borne witness to a mental breakdown. "And some of the things you said. Although I shouldn't have been eavesdropping. Everybody tells me it's a bad thing to do. I'm sorry for that. Although I suppose it's a good thing I heard, though, probably, otherwise I wouldn't have come here to cheer you up. Anyway, don't worry. It'll all get better. That's what my mother says . Here," She thrust a large, fluffy dandelion into Tom Wylde's hands. He looked down at it, slightly dazed, wondering why this little girl had suddenly decided to talk to him, of all people. Hadn't he scared her off with his breakdown? All the same, what was a twelve-year-old doing in a cemetery?

He looked at the dandelion and then turned his head to thank the little girl, but she was gone.

***

True to Willow Hillman's word, things did get better for Tom Wylde. For once, he decided to quit moping around and actually get some work done. He sent out applications for jobs and ran various errands for people to make ends meet.

Each day he went to the cemetery, and each day he was greeted by the same toothy grin and the same small hands holding a dandelion for him.

He learnt a great deal about his little companion, too.

"Do you know how to make a daisy chain?"

Willow and Tom sat on the grass, plucking bits of it and throwing it at each other. Willow flashed him a grin. The sunlight turned her hair to liquid gold, and she looked as if she were made of the woods herself - a little nature spirit. It was just in the way she looked wholly at home in the meadow - regardless of it being a cemetery.

Tom smiled as he laced daisy stems together - the first smile of his in many months.

And truth be told, anyone who would have passed by the cemetery that day would have seen a tall and lanky man, running after a little girl, who curiously resembled a wood sprite- in the way the sunlight illuminated her frame; daisy chains tipping precariously on both their heads.

***

"Do you like trees, Willow?"

"My favourite is the bougainvillea."

"Why?"

" 'Cause it reminds me of myself. It's sweet and strong and it can stand anything."

Tom remained silent.

***

"You know, Willow, my mother - she left me when I needed her most. She died when I was eight."

"Really? Mine too!"

***

"I don't like cars."

"Why?"

" 'Cause one killed my mommy."

***

"It'll get better, don't worry."

***

A warm day.

A tall man, sitting next to a pint-sized child.

A young girl, with hair the colour of the golden sun, silhouetted in the evening light of the waning sun next to her newest friend.

Daisy chains, strung with threads of friendship.

Bougainvillea trees - delicate, yet strong.

Wispy white weeds, laced with self-discovery and blown on with gratitude for the existence of Nature.

The silken bonds of Friendship.

Peace.

Affection.

Hope.

***

Days turned to weeks, the sun rose and set each day as the moon waxed and waned through the nights - and it all led up to that one day when Tom Wylde was once again seen striding to the churchyard, this time with a spring in his step, a white envelope clutched tightly in one hand.

Tom Wylde had had none to share his happiness and sorrows with until a few weeks ago, when a little girl named Willow had waltzed into his life like the sprite she was, and he was bursting with joy and anticipation.

His days of sending out job applications had paid off, and Messrs. Barn and James had replied in the affirmative, offering a top-notch managerial position, saying that they would be 'glad to have you in our company', and that he was to start on this Monday the seventeenth of August.

Spotting a field of wispy white weeds - dandelions- he stopped to pick one for the little twelve-year-old who had brought so much joy into his life. He would never forget this day - the fourth of May- when things in his life took a different turn.

However, the moment he set foot in the cemetery, he sensed something was wrong. The air no longer stirred with the cool draught, birds remained mute and immobile, hidden among the dense foliage of the tall, lush trees. The whole meadow seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation.

All was silent, and no sounds reached Tom Wylde's ears - except one.

The heartbroken, gut-wrenching sobs of an inconsolable child.

Panic and fear filled Tom Wylde's heart. The lone dandelion clutched in his hand, he felt as if he was in a daze. He felt his legs move quickly towards the source of the sound.

Later, he remembered seeing the sunny face that greeted him every day twisted into an expression of profound grief. Some distance away, Willow Hillman had looked up at him with a tear stained face and large, wet blue eyes. Her golden hair had glinted as it always did in the sunlight, and with one last smile - and one last tear trailing down her rosy cheek, she had faded away before his very eyes.

He stood, stunned - entranced, as the only thing that had brought light back into his dull life faded into oblivion. He felt himself walking, running to the spot where he had seen Willow. His head spun ; his mind was reeling. He was shell-shocked, screaming her name until his throat felt hoarse and raw, as though shards of glass had been poured down it. He felt wetness on his cheeks, his eyes smarting, the sun brash and burning against his face, the very last remnants of hope ebbing away from his soul.

He had never felt so heartbroken in his life. His bones no longer felt like bones, his brain felt useless and unable to comprehend this strange reality; and the world collapsed around him as his knees hit the grass.

His eyes fell upon a lone headstone of pure white marble before him - the very one he had been weeping over. Etched into it were the words :

Willow Hillman

Beloved daughter and friend.

You shall forever live on in our hearts.

Taken from us on this the second day of May.

Anybody who might have passed by the churchyard that bright, sunny Sunday morning might have seen a tall, young man, collapsed on his knees, staring dumbstruck at the grave in front of him as a lone bougainvillea petal fluttered down to rest on his coat-clad shoulder.

***

Fin.

A note: This is something I wrote a long time ago, when I had just started seriously trying to improve my writing. I think I've developed in some ways since then, but I think this is a good starter piece when it comes to posting my originals on Tumblr! (I'm on Wattpad as TheWodehouseAddict). I'd really like to thank @parkerpeter24 and @kelieah for encouraging me to post this! (Thank you so, so much for helping me break out of my comfort zone 😅)

#my writing #mango writes

25 notes · View notes

cantdwellonanyofit · 3 years

Text

I Don’t Think Enough Before I Say Too Much - Ch 5.

"Gene was once again a fool. Snafu had given so much during the war. Softened around the edges. Always trying to reach out and offer Gene comfort in his own confusing ways. Gene thought Snafu was patronizing him rather than loving him."

Dedication: To Stolperzunge, who always has a big beautiful brain that I adore :)

The French translations are in the notes at the below link, if you’re interested.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28770078/chapters/71480088

The rest of the house was identical to the rooms Gene had already seen. Barren, no sign of a loving life anywhere. Gene could visualize where pictures used to be hung. The empty spots now illuminated in contrast to the sunlight burned wallpaper around them. He wondered who’d removed the pictures, and if this was how Shelton learned to bury his emotions. To move on with his life when others never could’ve managed. Snafu just concealed it, and every reminder of it, until it never happened. Gene wished he possessed that skill. It would’ve been a relief to tuck every memory of the war away. Up on the highest shelf, so the memories could only be retrieved with a ladder. Gene lived his horrors every day. Like a cloak, they clung to his shoulders and left him feeling overheated.

“This is my room,” Snafu motioned for Gene to step inside the doorway. Gene had been carrying all his bags again. He carefully set them down in a corner of the room. He then turned and looked around. Greedily taking in every inch of his surroundings. Hoping for a sign of who Snafu had been before the war. He spotted a bookshelf, but the shelves mostly contained manuals or catalogs. How to fix cars, appliances, home improvement, the best cars, or guns. Gene grabbed a copy of, ‘Motor Repair and Overhauling,’ by ‘Newnes’ and flipped through it. Snafu came up beside him, eyes cast sideways. Watching Gene, trying to read him.

“Did-“ Gene hesitated, “Did you remove all the pictures, or did someone else?” Gene wasn’t sure whether he’d reached his quota on touchy subjects.

“What would I need ‘em for?” Snafu sounded confused. As if memories meant nothing. As if once someone was gone, they disappeared forever. As if it was just your duty to get rid of the final pieces of who someone had been, and what they’d meant to you. Gene pondered if he’d given Snafu a physical gift during the war if Snafu would’ve simply left that on the train too. Set it down neatly on Gene’s lap, so it would become Gene’s sole burden forever. Gene couldn’t help but feel maddened by Snafu’s ability to rid himself of sentimentality.

“You don’t care at all? It doesn’t bother you to be here? In all of this?” Gene could hear the tension in his voice as he gestured to the room. How could Snafu stand it? Gene’s mind was fracturing in his own home, and there was nothing but love surrounding him every day.

“Just because you think I should be wallowing in sadness doesn’t mean that’s how things gotta be. People are different, Gene.”

“It’s not normal.” Gene retorted.

“When the fuck ‘ave I ever been normal?” Snafu laughed, then sobered. “Why’s it so damn important to you that I can’t stand it here? Or that I can’t move on?” Snafu crossed his arms. Gene was stepping too far into territory he didn’t belong. Baiting the dog to bite him.

“If one morning I just disappeared and went back to Mobile, would you throw everything I left behind in the trash? Or would you follow me?” Gene mimed Snafu and crossed his arms as well. He could block himself off too, he thought.

“Why would’ya just leave and go back to Mobile? I wouldn’t follow you. Obviously, you didn’t want to be here in the first place then. Or with me. Chasin’ you wouldn’t fix that.” Snafu’s face contorted in confusion for the second time that day. Perhaps the fourth time since they’d reunited. As if Gene had asked Snafu if pigs could ever be a valid method of long-distance transportation.

“Jesus christ, Merriell.” Gene threw his hands up, “You’re fuckin’ insufferable sometimes.”

“Why are you pickin’ fights with me ‘cause there aren’t pictures on the wall? Or for some nonsense scenario where you leave to prove some kinda point?” Snafu grabbed Gene’s shoulders, forcing Gene to look into his eyes. “What’s your problem?”

“You’re my problem, Shelton. Do you have any feelings at all? Are you just fuckin’ empty in there?” Gene poked his finger at Snafu’s chest, then his head. Gene knew he was being an asshole. He was letting his insecurity get the best of him, and it was ugly. But he couldn’t stop. Snafu could walk right out of Gene’s life at any moment, and Gene would be inconsolable. Meanwhile, Snafu would just shrug, go to work, then return home for a nice dinner. “You’re just gonna leave me again when it suits you. When you feel like being done with this. And you’re never gonna look back, wonder if you fucked up, or what could’ve been. I don’t fuckin’ get you. I thought I did, but I don’t.” Gene’s voice was elevated beyond a necessary level. It felt as though the anger inside of him was overwhelming. Growing until it tore at his seams and split him open. He had so much of it, and no idea what to do with it now that the war was over. Snafu just stared blankly back at Gene, huffed a sigh, then started to walk out of the room. Gene grabbed his arm, “Don’t fucking walking away from me when I’m talking to you.”

Snafu whirled on his heels to face Gene again, easily removing his arm from Gene’s grip, “Do you just carry around the collar of that dog you lost? Hang it on your fuckin’ wall and cry about it every night? You do what you gotta do, Eugene. You grieve, and you fuckin’ move on. And no one can tell you if you’re doing it right or wrong because it’s yours to deal with. You, of all fuckin’ people, with your big fuckin’ brain, and all your feelings should get that.” Snafu was speaking so calmly it was almost unnerving. His eyes were intense. Emotionally resonating all the words he held close to his chest. Gene would’ve been afraid of Snafu if he’d been anyone else, or if Gene had still been his old self. If he hadn’t already lived with Snafu through their worst. Screamed at him in the middle of a war. Snafu had taken his fingers and tapped them on Gene’s forehead when he’d chastised him about his ‘big fuckin’ brain.’ Gene could still feel the ghost of his fingers. Maybe Gene was fucking crazy. For all Gene’s overthinking, he hadn’t really thought about it like that. All he thought about was the neon warning signs telling him Snafu was going to leave him if Gene put his guard down.

“I won’t make it without you. And you’re so good at leaving,” Gene lowered his tone, “I can’t fucking stand it.”

Snafu abruptly grabbed Gene’s jaw. Snafu’s thumb and index finger shaped a ‘V’ on his chin. The hold was firm, but not bruising. The rest of Snafu’s fingers splayed against Gene’s neck at his pulse. Gene wondered if Snafu could feel his heart thumping. Beating with the desperation to keep Snafu here with him as Gene continued to do nothing but push him away.

“Eugene Sledge, you’re the one that’s fuckin’ infuriatin’…” Snafu trailed off. His accent thickened as his anger possessed him. “Putain de merde, Eugene, sors-toi la tête du cul. I’m not fuckin’ goin’ anywhere. You gotta let that shit go, or you’re gonna drive us both insane.”

Gene jerked his chin out of Snafu’s grasp, “I don’t know what you said, but I have a strong feeling I should be pissed about it.” Gene gazed into Snafu’s eyes. The spark of anger was replaced by determination. Gene knew Snafu was, in his own confusing way, trying to get Gene to understand what he meant, how he felt. Gene just didn’t feel like giving up so easily. Waking up on the train and realizing Snafu was gone haunted him. He knew he wasn’t so different from Snafu. They both took something they loved and knifed it repeatedly to protect themselves. Gene just couldn’t agree to disagree. Not if it meant making it easier for Snafu to tuck away what he did, and potentially do it again. Gene didn’t just hold a grudge, he nurtured it.

Snafu grabbed Gene’s chin again and softly shook Gene’s head back and forth, “Gonna shake some fuckin’ sense into you. I like how feisty you are, but would prefer if ya’ just kept it in the sex, hein? I can’t predict the future, and neither can you. So please, can we get through one fuckin’ day without fightin’ about it? You think I took you home with me so I could just leave and give you the house? I fuckin’ live here, Eugene. Where am I gonna go? You thinkin’ I’ll just leave in the middle of the night? Go sleep at the bus station for the rest of my life to avoid you?”

Gene couldn’t help but laugh. “It wouldn’t surprise me, honestly,”

Snafu sent his eyes heavenward and held them there. Praying to a God he didn’t believe in to give him the strength not to throw Gene out the window, Gene assumed. “I’m just scared,” Gene added. “I can’t love you the way I want to. I can’t take you home. I can’t hold your hand in public. I have no idea what I’m doing. And moreover, I worry you’re going to get sick of this. Sick of me. What’s going to stop you when you’ve already done it once?”

“Well you certainly ain’t makin’ me want to put a ring on your finger actin’ like an asshole all the time,” Snafu released Gene’s jaw. “Trust me. I’m your partner, not your enemy. You keep seein’ me as the enemy, you’re gonna get us both killed. Let’s start over. Fuckin’ forget before and be here now.”

“I can’t fuckin’ do that like you can,” Gene didn’t know how to make Snafu understand. Gene couldn’t pretend the past didn’t exist.

“What good is torturing yourself about it? You’re just gonna make it come true. You’re gonna wish your fears into reality, Eugene.” Gene had to admit he was pretty good at that. He wished so badly to go to war. Thought it would make him a man. Thought it would make him feel powerful. Instead, it crushed any possibility of ever knowing himself. War didn’t make you a man, or powerful. It stripped everything from you until you had nothing left. Like his father said. If Gene really thought about it, he was angry at Snafu for being able to decide and then not dwell on it. Snafu had decided to go to war. Decided to leave Gene on the train. Decided to forego searching for him. And he just kept going. Every decision Gene made weighed heavy on his heart and mind.

“You’re right,” Gene finally said.

“I know I’m fuckin’ right. I’m always right. Now put your shit away and let’s knock this bullshit off.” Snafu gestured to the dresser as he spoke. “Make sure ya’ mix your clothes up really good with mine so I can’t pack before I leave you forever tonight.”

Gene laughed, “Fuck you, Shelton. Can you please just say you’re sorry?”

“You know I’m sorry, I don’t feel like this is gonna fix anything. It’s a wa—” Snafu glanced at Gene’s face, which must’ve mirrored Gene’s growing agitation.

Snafu sighed. “Alright, I’m sorry. But listen here. You listenin’ good?” Snafu paused until Gene nodded his head in confirmation. “I won’t keep sayin’ it, Eugene. People make mistakes. You can’t hold it like a gun to my head. S’not fair.”

Gene grabbed Snafu’s hand and pulled him forward until their lips met. Gene gently put his hands on either side of Snafu’s face. After several long moments, he released Snafu and stepped back to look at him.

“You still love me?” Gene asked.

“Less, but yeah,” Snafu said then laughed when Gene scoffed and dropped his hands from Snafu’s face. “I do, Eugene, I love you. Now please fuckin’ relax. Just for one evening. One hour. Twenty minutes.”

Gene lifted one shoulder in a shrug, then turned and got to work throwing his clothes in with Snafu’s. As he opened a drawer and categorized the clothing within, Gene threw his clothes in to match. Shirts, pants, shorts, and socks. It felt oddly domestic. He imagined him and Snafu doing this forever. Laundry, cooking, cleaning…Then Gene realized he didn’t know how to do any of those things. He wondered how much burden he could place on Snafu before he threw Gene and his clothes outside. He guessed he would find out.

“I don’t know how to cook,” Gene blurted out.

Snafu raised an eyebrow and tried to hide his smirk. “Well that’s the final straw then, get the fuck out’ma house.”

“I’m serious, Merriell. I’m not much good at any of this.” Gene threw the last of his clothes in the last drawer then closed it.

Snafu approached and grabbed Gene’s hands. “Listen to me, Hey,” Snafu shook Gene’s hands until he focused on him, “Ma boule d’angoisse, je m’en sacre. I don’t give a shit. I didn’t ask you here so you could take care of me. I’ve been doing that just fine on my own.”

Gene reached up and slid his fingers through Snafu’s curls. “Well, you just estimate how long it’ll be until you’re sick of taking care of me because I might die if you don’t.” Gene meant it as a joke, but he knew there was truth in it.

Snafu slid his eyes closed as Gene gently massaged his scalp, taking his time raking his fingers through each curl, “Eugene, ma ‘tite jolie fleur, je vais m’occuper de toi, je te protégerai et t’aimerais toujours.. Pour toujours et à jamais. Okay?”

“I guess?” Gene responded, laughing. “You could be telling me to go fuck myself for all I know.”

“Something like that,” Snafu responded. “You ever had Pompano en Papillote?”

“Is that a sexual term?” Gene raised an eyebrow. Snafu laughed harder than Gene had expected. It was infectious, and Gene found himself laughing as well.

“Fuckin’ christ, Gene, it’s a dinner. Fish, Shrimp…”

Gene shrugged, Mobile Alabama wasn’t exactly known for its seafood, so Gene’s experience with it was limited to vacations.

Snafu patted the side of Gene’s face, then turned and walked away. “Well, you’re gonna try it then. Gonna make you a nice dinner as a thank you for such an excellent welcome home blowjob.”

Gene laughed, “So that’s it then? It’s settled? You’ll take care of me and I’ll pay you in blowjobs?”

Snafu stopped, twisted his slender torso to look at Gene, “I told you ‘bout that big fuckin’ beautiful brain of yours. You’re a fuckin’ genius. That’s absolutely the arrangement from now’on, I’ll draft up a contract later. Now that I’m your boss, you can get used to calling me Mr. Shelton.”

Gene was shaking his head. He playfully pushed at Snafu until Snafu had no choice but to turn back around. “Get out,” Gene pushed him out the door. Gene was fascinated by how he and Snafu could go from loving each other and joking around, to fighting just as intensely. It didn’t seem as if they were capable of regular emotions. For better or worse.

Gene grabbed his papers and pen out of one of the shopping bags and took them with him downstairs. He set them on the desk that was positioned in the corner of the living room. He could hear Snafu in the kitchen getting pots and pans out of the cupboards. Gene lingered in the living room. Sat on the couch to see what it felt like. Fluffed the pillows. Continued to imagine a young Merriell living here. Tried to imagine Merriell sitting on the couch with his father. Listening to the radio like Gene did with his father. Tried to imagine what Snafu’s parents must’ve looked like. He couldn’t figure out why it was so important to envision Snafu with his family. Perhaps Gene wanted to believe he and Snafu had similar childhoods. They were such different people. It concerned Gene how, now that the war was over, he and Snafu would realize how different they were. How this was never going to work. Eventually, Gene eased up off the couch and made his way into the kitchen. Snafu had his hands submerged in a bowl. Gene moved until he was behind Snafu, then wrapped his arms around Snafu’s middle. Snafu was so neatly slender Gene speculated whether he could wrap his arms around him twice. Snafu hummed in appreciation, eased back into Gene’s embrace for a moment, then resumed swirling shrimp in the water.

“If you want to eat sometime today, you’re gonna have to let me go,” Snafu teased.

Gene groaned in protest then released Snafu, moving instead to press his palm to Snafu’s back. Gene momentarily rubbed slow circles, then backed off. “I’m happy to be here with you. Even though, I’m doing a really terrible job at showing it.”

A smirk played at Snafu’s lips, “We started off great. We just gotta keep to that and we’ll be fine.” Snafu was ripping the tails off the shrimp as he talked, throwing the shells into a metal container.

“I’d prefer it if we could get along even when we’re not having sex,” Gene’s mouth was a thin line, expressing his judgement and displeasure through his pursed lips. His ‘go to’ face when he didn’t much like what was going on.

Snafu laughed at him, “Calme-toi, ma boule d’angiosse. I’m just jokin’. We’ll be alright, don’t worry your pretty head.”

“What does that mean? Pool.. duh….” Gene tried to sound out what he’d heard but gave up. Snafu didn’t immediately answer, and instead decided to smirk awfully at him. So, Gene tried to grab for some shrimp to help with dinner. Snafu slapped his hand away. Gene immediately nursed his hand. Feigned shock. Earning another beautiful laugh out of Snafu. Gene had seen Snafu’s smile and heard his laugh during the war. Gene fondly recalled De L’eau’s ‘incident’ and smiled to himself at the memory. However, this was different. Snafu openly laughing for him felt like a secret. This was Snafu with his barricades down in his own home. Smiling and laughing just for Gene. He’d treasure it. The way Snafu opened his mouth to let his boisterous laugh erupt from his chest. Or when Snafu’s teeth remained at rest on his bottom lip as he chuckled. Gene hoarded every moment. Every feature.

“What the hell are ya’ laughin’ at now?” Snafu smiled at Gene as he dumped the water out of the bowl, holding the shrimp in place over the sink. Gene was momentarily mesmerized by Snafu’s hands. How he could fit his thick fingers neatly over the pile of shrimp. “Hello?” Snafu added. Gene, surprised, glanced up. He hadn’t realized he zoned out.

“De L’eau,” Gene answered. “Was thinking about Bloody Nose Ridge,” Gene smiled.

Snafu laughed in response. Gene was in love. He was so desperately in love. “Tell me what you said in French earlier. Don’t distract me.”

“You’re distractin’ yourself, I ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. Calme-toi is easy, it means calm down. Ma boule d’angoisse….” Snafu hesitated. Gene pursed his lips as he assumed the phrase meant something crude. “Worrywart,” Snafu finished. “Literally, it would mean ball of anguish,” Snafu glanced over at Gene.

“Do you think ill of me?” Gene finally asked.

“No, baby.” Snafu answered. It was so intimate Gene instantly looked away and blushed. “You like that, don’t’ya?” Snafu was grinning again. “You really like that, huh?”

“I don’t know,” Gene answered honestly. “It makes me feel like a child, but also there’s something about it. Can’t put my finger on it.”

“I know what it is, but I’ll wait for you to figure it out.” Snafu had moved on to chopping onions. He used his arm to wipe his eyes briefly before he continued cutting.

“Tell me,” Gene said. He was interested in Snafu’s thoughts on it. Especially since Gene felt too conflicted to pull the meaning out for himself.

“You’ve been pissed off at me enough the last two days.” Snafu said.

Gene tilted his head, “Out with it. I won’t get mad.”

“Famous last words, but alright. You like being babied. Maybe pampered is a better word.”

Gene scoffed immediately, and Snafu raised his eyes to look at Gene’s face. Paused his cutting, “Said you wouldn’t get mad. S’your own fault now. You don’t even know it, but you like it. Just let it be. Is what it is. No shame in it. I like pampering you.”

Gene’s brow furrowed. He thought about it. He liked it when Snafu watched over him. Protected him. But Gene would do the same for Snafu. Did Snafu like being called baby? Being pampered? Gene couldn’t imagine Snafu would know how to receive praise or pampering. Perhaps this was yet another difference between them. Gene was a pampered, privileged, and silver spoon-fed child. And Snafu was a hardened and self-made disadvantaged man. How were they ever going to make this work long-term?

“I can see your brain working. You know we ain’t gotta be the same person to love each other?” Snafu was placing fish filets in aluminum foil as he spoke. “That’s what makes it fun, you know? We can teach each other.” It was so sentimental Gene didn’t have a response. Snafu wouldn’t look at him, changed the subject abruptly. “My grandmother used to make this all the time.” Gene still didn’t have a response. He was so pleased to hear something about pre-war Snafu he just nodded. “I’d help. ‘Cause I was always getting’ in the middle of stuff. I had to be involved in everything. Imagine that, hein? Me bein’ a little busybody? Unheard of.” Gene was so afraid he’d ruin the moment. Afraid if he breathed too loudly, Snafu would stop talking. So, he held his breath. Praying for Snafu to keep going.

“So anyway,” Snafu threw an astronomical amount of butter in a saucepan, tossed in the onions, tested the milk’s smell before adding it, and, Jesus Christ, so much Cayenne pepper. Gene wanted to protest. He knew the spiciest food he ever tried was gumbo. Which he’d only had the chance to eat when his family ventured to the Gulf Shores during the summer. He didn’t want to shatter the moment, so he kept his lips sealed.

“So, I’d help, and my grandmother would instruct me. I liked the distraction. You gotta be really focused when you cook. Can’t be lettin’ your mind run away from you. So, I learned to enjoy it as a distraction. S’nice.” Snafu finished. Gene was so pleased he could cry. Snafu enjoyed cooking, and Gene had no idea. Gene had no clue who this man really was. Any piece of information was fuel for Gene to piece together the puzzle that was Snafu. Gene nodded again. Refused to tarnish this moment with words. “You keep holdin’ your breath like that you’gonna pass out.” Snafu added.

Gene let out a whoosh of a breath and smiled. “Sorry--,” He couldn’t think of how to explain what this moment felt like. So, he just remained quiet. Snafu threw all the ingredients together in the aluminum foil, covered it, and threw it in the oven.

As soon as the oven door was closed, he grabbed Gene by the hips and backed him up until he was flush against the white cabinets. Snafu kissed Gene briefly, then wrapped his arms around him. Swinging Gene gently from side-to-side. Gene smiled against Snafu’s neck.

This was why he came all the way from Alabama. This right here. Snafu had given Gene just a little taste of who he’d been. Gene could tell it made Snafu uncomfortable as he was doing it. Shoulders stiff, avoiding eye contact. But he did it for Gene. He’d said they could be different and make it work. Gene’s heart grabbed onto that concept and hugged it tenderly. Gene was once again a fool. Snafu had given so much during the war. Softened around the edges. Always trying to reach out and offer Gene comfort in his own confusing ways. Gene thought Snafu was patronizing him rather than loving him. Snafu’s affection was so different from Gene’s own. Where Gene could speak for hours about how he felt and what he wanted, Snafu could listen carefully. Holding his intense gaze on you and making a silent promise to be right there with you. Snafu could surrender to tenderness by sliding up next to you and forcing words out of his mouth he otherwise would never say. Just for you. Only for you.

Gene again raked his fingers through Snafu’s curls. Gene’s eyes poured over Snafu’s features. The widened space between his eyebrows, his sharp sunken eyes, wider nose, the way his ears jutted forward accentuating his thin cheekbones, the curve to his jaw, his plump upper lip, the gentle dip in his chin. Gene loved him. Gene loved him so much he felt high. Gene started over again from Snafu’s curls down to his chin. His eyes eagerly documenting each detail. Snafu seemed to be doing the same to Gene. Then Snafu brusquely kissed him and left to check on the food.

“It can’t be done already?” Gene inquired.

Snafu smiled, “Only takes ten minutes.”

“We did not just stare at each other for ten minutes.” Gene hastily responded. To which, Snafu laughed at him. Intoxicating.

“Close, maybe eight.” Snafu said. Gene shook his head. They were both deranged.

Shortly thereafter, the food was finished. Gene pestered Snafu, asking him where all the cutlery, cups, and plates were so he could set the table. He could at least manage that much. Cups there, knives, forks, and spoons there. He was an honest to goodness housewife. Gene laughed to himself. Snafu eyed him from the kitchen. Gene brought the plates over to Snafu one by one then set them on the table after Snafu deposited food on them. Gene stood awkwardly, not sure what to next. Snafu entered the room and pulled out Gene’s chair for him. Gene bowed purposefully low, then sat.

“Just wanted a good look at your ass before dinner,” Snafu added, ensuring any romanticism died. Gene rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. He hesitated, preparing his taste buds for the first bite. Gene wondered if he’d blow steam out his mouth and ears.

“S’matter?” Snafu asked. He’d already started eating. Gene didn’t want Snafu to think he didn’t appreciate the meal, so he immediately took a bite.

It was good. It was so good. “Fuck,” Gene said, hand positioned in front of his mouth to cover it from view. “Jesus Christ.” Gene continued his slew of profanity. Snafu stared at him with a bemused expression.

“You have the same reaction to my cooking as our sex. I’ll take that as a high compliment.” Snafu said.

Gene laughed after he finished swallowing his bite. “Shit, Merriell, you’re a real chef.”

At the compliment, Snafu averted his gaze. But he held a private smile. Gene was unused to seeing Snafu as bashful. Gene intensely wanted to repeat it all the time as a result. Gene’s grin grew on his face, he had an idea. “So good, baby,” he said. Snafu’s blush was immediate. He tried to hide it by turning his head, but even against Snafu’s summer darkened complexion the reddened hue was unmistakable. Gene was thrilled. “Oh shit?” Gene said, proud of his accomplishment.

“Shut the fuck up,” Snafu immediately answered. The hue spread across Snafu’s face. Gene’s grin grew impossibly bigger.

“Baby….” Gene reached out and rubbed the back of his hand against Snafu’s cheek. Snafu tilted his head as if the touch burned him, smacking at Gene’s hand.

“Fuck off, I said,” Snafu tried to sound intimidating, but Gene’s smile was so wide his eyes were nearly closed. He took a triumphant bite of his food. Gene wasn’t going to let this go for nothing. He privately stored it away for later use. They resumed their usual silence as they ate. Settling into their rhythm. It was only evening two and they had a system. Snafu was right, they could teach each other quite easily. Gene felt hope. It was so rare for him. He cradled it. Feeling unashamed of his innocence for the first time in a while. Maybe, if he was dedicated, Gene could learn how to love himself as he simultaneously learned how to love Merriell. He adjusted his foot under the table until it rested against Snafu’s. Gene let the intimacy he felt for Snafu fill him. Turning it inward. This could work, he thought. This could be beautiful.

They finished dinner, and Gene stacked the plates and cutlery then took them into the kitchen. He set them in the sink, and immediately started cleaning up. Snafu passed by him several times as he grabbed cookware and set it on the counter beside the sink. Every time he passed, he kissed Gene on the cheek. Once the final item was set down, Snafu stood beside Gene. Leaning until Snafu was continuously kissing Gene’s cheek. Gene laughed and tried to shrug him off since both of his hands were in soapy water. Snafu continued kissing Gene’s cheek, ignoring him, then brought his hands up to Gene’s side and quickly used his fingertips to grip and tickle him. Gene shrieked, “Knock it off, you’re gonna make me break everything.” He squeaked out, shifting his hips away until he was leaning to keep his hands in the water. Snafu chuckled and kept tickling him. Gene was mewling, his knees buckled. “Please!” He all but screeched out.

Snafu laughed and kissed the junction between Gene’s neck and shoulder. Gene turned around, took his soapy wet hands, wiped them across Snafu’s shirt, kissed him, then returned to the dishes.

Snafu moved his tongue to the inside of his cheek. Then, nodded his head. Apparently agreeing to act on a decision he’d made mentally, he quickly dunked his hand in the water and smeared it across Gene’s face in one movement. “You…--” Gene glared as soap clung to the tip of his nose.

“You started it, mon chouchou. Don’t start what you can’t finish.” Snafu smacked Gene’s ass and left the room. Snafu went to the radio and turned it on, Blues promptly rang out through the house. Gene finished up the dishes, dried his face on the dish towel, then snapped the towel against Snafu’s ass and handed it to him.

“No idea what you do with laundry.” Snafu threw it on the floor. “Merriell!” Gene was laughing as he snatched it back up off the floor and handed it back to Snafu. Snafu laughed, disappeared briefly back into the kitchen. He returned towel-less, so Gene assumed the laundry must be built off the kitchen. He looked at Snafu expectantly, “So, where’s the laundry room?”

“It’s called the kitchen, and there’s a laundry sink in there. Dolly tub is in the pantry. You just hand wash it. We ain’t fancy ‘round here.” Snafu answered.

Gene felt embarrassed. He didn’t even fathom that possibility. His privilege seeped out in ways he’d never even considered. “Got it, sorry…darlin’.” Gene added the term of endearment, trying it out on his tongue.

It earned him a smile from Snafu. “S’okay. Don’t sweat it. I’m gonna have to quit my job so I can teach you a thing or two.” Gene also hadn’t even considered that Snafu was going to have to work. Not just to support himself, but to support Gene too. He felt like such a burden. He needed to get his shit together, and soon. Snafu must’ve noticed Gene’s smile dropped. “Don’t-- ah fuck, don’t overthink it. It was a joke. Stop right now,” Snafu gently tapped on Gene’s forehead, “You in there, hello, stop it.”

Gene laughed despite himself as Snafu continued tapping. He grabbed Snafu’s finger and held it.

“I need to get a job,” he said, matter of fact. “Or something.” Gene reasoned.

“First let’s just worry about not setting the house, or yourself, on fire while I’m gone. Don’t worry about it. I-“ Snafu stopped.

“What?” Gene immediately pressed him.

Snafu continued to stare blankly at him.

“What?” Gene insisted.

“I can get money. If we need. I got.. stuff tucked away.” Gene stared at Snafu, confused, then it hit him. Jap gold. Gene didn’t know whether he'd prefer Snafu make a profit off them, or continue to keep them as souvenirs. Both felt horrible. Wrong. Dehumanizing. Gene wanted to argue with Snafu about it, but the damage had already been done. From the moment Sledge watched Snafu cut the teeth out of the Jap’s mouth, it had been done. There was no use arguing now.

“Absolutely not. No. Never.” Gene said, sternly.

Snafu put his hands up in surrender, “I’m just telling you.”

“I wish you hadn’t.” Gene abruptly ended the conversation by walking towards the stairs.

Snafu shut the radio off, and quickly followed Gene. “Gene, hey, hey!” He grabbed Gene and manhandled him until he was staring at Snafu on the stairs. “You knew I had it. What did you expect?”

Gene didn’t know. Snafu was so gentle with him. So caring. He hated the mirage being washed away by those damn teeth. It was true, Gene already knew Snafu had done unspeakable things during the war. Snafu only had himself to blame for Gene even being mortified about it. Gene had been moments away from doing the exact same thing. He calmed down as he thought through his position on the topic. “I can’t believe the things we did.” Gene finished in a whisper.

“It’s done now. We’ll never be those people again.” Gene again wished he could throw away memories and feelings like Snafu could. Gene would always be the person he had been during the war. It was a part of him now. The only solace was Snafu had kept Gene from becoming unsavable. Unrepairable.

“Thank you.” Gene said. Snafu looked confused. “For saving me.” He finished.

Then Gene continued up the steps. Snafu stayed standing on the stairs, even as Gene went into Snafu’s room and grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste. Gene wandered the hallway until he found the bathroom and ducked in. Snafu eventually joined him, and they washed up in silence. Both stripping out of most of their clothes. After Snafu finished brushing his teeth, he gently kissed Gene’s cheek again. So intimate.

Gene was again struck by the man he had known in Japan versus the man he grew to know in Peking. The man he was getting to know here in Louisiana. Gene needed to learn to let go of the war. Let go of Snafu, and remember it was Merriell Shelton he lived with. Snafu was a man who Shelton wished to bury. For Gene’s sake. So, for Merriell’s sake, Gene would to let Snafu die. Merriell had been right, it wasn’t fair for Gene to continue torturing Shelton for who he had been during the most awful time in his life. Gene imagined how he'd feel if Merriell did that to him. If he reminded Gene of every time Gene lost his temper at a boot. Lost his temper with Shelton. Gene remembered taking out his pistol, taking aim, and shooting Japs. Gene had screamed at Mac afterwards. Pissed that Mac had any semblance of decency to want to save the Japs from being shot by a minor weapon, and suffering through death.

Gene tried to imagine being dragged through that every day by Merriell, who was supposed to love him. Gene was so filled with remorse; he’d hurried into the bedroom where Shelton was and hugged him. This time, Merriell instantly responded. Hugging Gene tightly to him.

“I’m sorry, Merriell. I’ve been a real bitch,” Gene rubbed his hands along Shelton’s back.

A laugh burst out of Shelton at Gene’s words. Merriell gently grabbed the back of Gene’s head and held him, rocking him. “S’okay, mon p’tit loup,” Shelton responded.

“What?” Gene asked, after stifling a yawn. He had no idea what time it was, but it had been dark for quite a while.

Snafu chuckled, “Loup is wolf. P’tit loup, lil’ wolf.”

Gene smiled, “That’s cute. I like that. I love you,” he kissed Merriell. “I’m going to work on being better. I promise. How do you say I promise in French?”

“I love you too. Je promets is I promise.”

Gene tried to repeat it, but it sounded wrong in his mouth. More like “Jay pro-may” rather than how Shelton had said it. Shelton laughed at him and repeated the phrase more slowly for Gene.

“I can’t make that sound with my throat,” Gene insisted.

“You can make all kinds’a other sounds with that lovely throat of yours. I’m not too bothered if you can’t make that one.” Snafu continued smiling.

Gene rolled his eyes and stifled another more intense yawn. Merriell moved Gene until they were lying down. Gene was exhausted after all the traveling and excitement of the past couple days. Once they were both on their backs under the sheets, Gene threw a leg over Shelton and settled against his side. Shelton put his arm around Gene and kissed his forehead. Strained his neck and planted another kiss on the bridge of Gene’s nose. Then gently rubbed his finger along the bridge of Gene’s nose until Gene’s eyes drooped closed. Until the last thing Gene remembered was Shelton whispering, “Je t’aime.”

#Stolperzunge #Sledgefu #sledge/shelton #shelton/sledge #trigger warning: slur #tw: slur #Morons in love

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