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mypersonmyg · 3 years

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crash and learn | myg, kth, jjk

pairing: yoongi x reader ft. maggie x taehyung, dani x jeongguk

genre: fluff, college au, the misery chick au

rating: pg15

wc: 2.3k

warnings: swearing, not really edited

summary: you and yoongi just want some time alone OR maybe jeongguk and taehyung will finally stop crashing your dates

a/n: haha i bet you thought i forgot but i didn’t! its drabble week and i will be posting one every day this week (weekends debatable)...this one is a part of the misery chick universe but also you don’t have to read it to get it because...

this is for my FAVORITE CUTIE MAGGIE @kimtaehyunq!!!! who asked me to write a cute tae and jeongguk request ft herself and yours truly <3 and i think its fun to have one universe with all the members being with one of my friends so,,,maybe more coming?,,,either way i might write another drabble or two to sort of bring this one full circle, maybe not this week but yeah

[drabble masterlist]

[the misery chick]

One date turned to two and two to three, needless to say that months later and Min Yoongi still finds room to swoon for the girl who thought him puffing smoke before the start of the period. The misery chick isn’t gone, but the words are forbidden within a radius of the two of you, more likened to prolonged stares and the occasional glares of those wondering about the developing development of your arms locked and stares stopping on your respective pupils dilated in the glare of the midday sun.

Though those passersby who let Yoongi pass by for too long without a positive step in the direction of his natural charms hold their tongues, the boys that fill the round of the courtyard picnic don’t hesitate to gag into half eaten sandwiches and dribble the purple fizz from the cans perched at their lips.

“This is a little excessive, no?” Taehyung, the least bothered of the present, pipes up. He slurps from a straw that traces the length of his arm, wrapping the sleeve of his half buttoned button up. No one dared ask about his latest purchase, Jeongguk who was slurping from his juice box even eyeing with envy the can perfectly placed atop a tuft of grass, feeding into the straw at Taehyung’s lips. “When you invited us on a picnic I was hoping for a little more ‘we time’ and a little less ‘you time’.”

“To be clear, we didn’t invite you.”

“I like to think it was an open invitation,” Jeongguk shrugs, falling back against the blanket spread beneath you.

Yoongi kisses his teeth, his own position resting against your chest, the perfect avenue for the pass of a grape from your fingers to his lips. He’s too content to bother with the bothersome nature of his uninvited roommates, both found minutes before his departure scavenging the lunch he’d spent the better part of the morning putting together. It was only the delighted pitch of your giggles that stopped him from scolding the two and sending them on their way when they followed you out of the door. He even caught you sneaking a few extra snacks into the basket for the fiends.

“The point is, I will not hesitate to press my face to Yoongi’s because this is supposed to be a date.”

“Press your face? That’s fuckin’ weird can’t you just say kiss?” Taehyung snatches the grape from your hand midair, sending Yoongi a smug smirk when he pops it past his geometric lips humming along with the satisfactory burst of the skin against his tongue.

“No, because it makes you uncomfortable.” You tut, quickly replacing the grape to remedy the pout pulling at Yoongi’s cheeks. “This’ll teach you two to stop crashing our dates!”

Dates is, in fact, plural because the tag along of your spritely comrades has been less and less few and far over the course of just a few weeks. You aren’t blind to the odd trend, not missing the attachment of Jeongguk specifically with each expected visit. Only recently had Taehyung begun to fill the void at Jeongguk’s side, previously partnered with any member of the house available at the time.

What you’ve failed to account for with every impromptu double date is Jeongguk’s wise up with each stand in. He began to worm his way with Hoseok, clear that Yoongi would never turn down his best friend and you would never turn down Jeongguk. He would then try his hand with each member of the house, the worst of them being Jimin who had them sent away without even a morsel of the pizza you and Yoongi planned on sharing that day.

It was that evening that Yoongi stood barefoot in his doorway, scratching at his brows toeing the reason behind Jeongguk’s sudden interest in you to which Jeongguk sputtered and blushed Yoongi out of the door with the assurance that his interest in you still remained platonic despite your commonalities and attraction.

Jeongguk would never disclose the reason for his sudden interest in the almost daily escapades of Yoongi and yourself for fear that the blush painting his cheeks would be due to the teases and pressures of his friends, much the way he heard his hyungs pressuring Yoongi just months ago. He reasons that the position served Yoongi well, his eyes often traveling to the trace of your hand against Yoongi’s and frequent pecks to his forehead, his cheeks, he averts when you ‘press face’.

He wouldn’t dare admit the lift of his heart when you utter a defeated ‘I’ll just call Maggie and Dani, we can all catch a movie or something’ or when you plan ahead, which you’ve been doing more often, and the two meet you at your destination. The assumption of his appearance for the consumption that is often his source of a meal was accurate at the start. Your weekly dinners increasingly put on hold in place of a date with Yoongi, a point that Jeongguk used to his advantage the first night he beat Yoongi to the front seat of his own car while you snickered on the passenger side and Yoongi grumbled his way to the rear.

His tactic had been to spend more time with his friend busied by love’s intoxicating hold, but his routine was struck by the catch of his own wrist in the hold of the bug. It was subtle before all at once, just an insignificant flutter passed off as a change in the weather, allergies. It was the not so subtle jab of Hoseok’s elbow into Jeongguk’s ribs after a particularly festive frolic through the spring festival that hipped him to his blind intentions.

“Dude, you’ve been eying Dani for like three weeks and I’m tired of going on dates with you.” Suffice to say that was the last time Hoseok was glued to his side and Jeongguk only hoped the few feet between him and Dani just ahead provided a gap gaping enough to save her ears from Hoseok’s assail.

It was a constant trial and error leading up to the night just a week ago that conjured Taehyung in stride, far too dressed up for casual with a confident glint in his eye.

“You made the right call, I don’t know why it took you so long to make it, but I’m here now. The doctor is in.” Taehyung surveyed the small span of the restaurant's front entrance that day, confident in his abilities to nudge Jeongguk ever closer to the girl he’s been crazy about for the past few weeks. He found it endearing that the youngest was having a hard time, especially when he was often the target of straying gazes and the not-so-subtle flirtations of all shades.

It didn’t take long for all involved to realize that the doctor inconveniently called in sick from the moment Yoongi showed up with three ladies en route, one familiar from a photo Jeongguk scrounged and the second filled with a familiarity not quite familiar to Taehyung. You were quick to introduce her as Maggie, and Taehyung couldn’t form a sentence coherent enough for the rest of the night.

If it weren’t for the quickened explanation on the drive home, Jeongguk would’ve been a lot less forgiving about his botched date, but here they are two weeks later, both lovestruck idiots jumping with each sound of crumpled grass while you and Yoongi are none the wiser to their intent.

“So, what are we doing tomorrow? Aside from watching you two be all lovey dovey.”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi’s head tilts, eyes squinting in the face of the sun’s rays. “What are you two doing tomorrow? I personally plan on spending the day with my girlfriend, preferably alone at some point.”

“Huh, well there’s this horror marathon at the drive-in tomorrow and I was thinking we could all go!” Taehyung nudges Jeongguk’s leg, the younger immediately onboard with the suggestion.

“Yeah! We could even invite Maggie and Dani so we have someone to talk to when you two inevitably claim the backseat for making out or whatever.”

You eye the two, eyes as wide as fresh puppies and smiles spanning the length of their cheeks. You aren’t completely blind to the trend of the past few weeks, but you haven’t been keen enough an observer to call them out on it until now. You’ve joked with Yoongi in private about your impromptu triple dates, most of the time brushed off with the shift of his lips to your own, too exhausted to think about anything but the moment he finally has you to himself.

You nudge him with your knee, catching his eye with the minute dip of your head and the draw of your brow.

“Ya know, you guys could always just go yourselves. I could give you their numbers,” You don’t miss the exchanged glances and tinted cheeks, Jeongguk’s eyes averting to the opposite end of the grass, one hand lifting to tug at the lobe of his ear. “I know Maggie is really into horror and Dani will def tag along if you ask nicely.”

“Oh...they’re your friends though, I don’t think they’d wanna hang with us.” Taehyung sputters, nearly knocking the can at his side. Yoongi scoffs, head lolling from its place on your thigh.

“You’re kidding right? The way those two act around you is not exactly subtle.”

“What do you mean?” Jeongguk’s body leans forward, pupils doubled in hopeful curiosity.

“I guess you’ll just have to see for yourself.” Yoongi shrugs.

“And there’s no time like the present!” Your hands flag at something beyond the scope of their heads, Jeongguk freezing on the spot, but Taehyung’s neck craning to capture the bodies bounding over and moments later plopping in the convenient spaces between. Maggie squishes herself between you and Jeongguk while Dani takes the spot beside Taehyung.

A panic flashes in both of their eyes when they note the unmatched arrangement of bodies. There was no specification as to who Maggie or Dani harbor unspoken feelings for, or what kind of feelings they are, and the time to question has since vanished.

The group falls to routine, broken conversations and voices piping in, Taehyung notes the lack of attention the girl that has a grip on his bursting appendage has paid in the past twenty minutes. A simple nod of the head or half smile is the only acknowledgement to his thoughtfully witty remarks.

He doesn’t miss the drop of her hand to Jeongguk’s arm when he tells a funny joke, her head thrown back with exaggerated laughter and he fights to send a glare his way but thinks better as Jeongguk is too entranced by Dani who has barely said a word since sitting.

“So, Tae was just telling us about this horror marathon they’re having at the drive-in tomorrow night. He and Guk wanna go.” You fill in once the six of you fall to comfortable silence. You catch Maggie sending a smirk Taehyung’s way, recovering at once when she peeks your gaze out of the corner of her eye.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, Yoon and I could use some alone time so I thought you guys might wanna go with them.”

“Horror?” Dani speaks up, gently shifting to shield herself from Jeongguk’s wandering eyes. “That’s cool, but I don’t know that’s not really my thing.”

“That's okay!” Jeongguk startles himself with his words, lowering his voice with a nervous chuckle. “I mean, we don’t have to stay the whole time, I wouldn’t mind leaving early. We could get some food or something.”

“Hey, not all of us are chicken. I wanna stay the whole time,” Maggie pokes her tongue in Dani’s direction, earning the same in return.

“I’m not chicken. There’s just only so much nuclear family, last girl blah blah blah that I can handle.” Dani shrugs, turning her attention to Jeongguk for the first time that he’s aware of, since she arrived. “It’s okay, you guys should just go without me.”

“No, I wanna hang with you. We could go to this new pizza place in town if you’re interested?” Jeongguk is pleased to note that you and Yoongi have gone back to your regularly scheduled program, pretending as if your date hasn’t been crashed for the millionth time. Taehyung and Maggie, on the flip, are watching you two as if they’re already tucked into the boot of a car with popcorn between their fingers.

“Um...I mean, if you really don’t mind. I don’t wanna steal you or them away from the movies.”

“I’ll stay...ya know, Maggie and I. We could stay and watch the movies and you two could go after the first one or two.” Taehyung glances at Maggie whose eyes are already taking him in, flashing away the moment pupils meet.

“Yeah, that’s always an option.” She agrees, flashing you a thumbs up.

“Great!” Four heads snap in your direction, Yoongi is finally sitting upright and you’re all smiles, neatly folding your blanket to pass off. “So it sounds like you guys have a lot of planning to do and we have a lot of kissing to do, so we’ll be seein’ ya!”

“Wait, don’t you guys wanna finish your food?” Maggie gestures to the half eaten meal left resting in the basket.

“No no, you guys have it. I’m actually in the mood for pizza now so we’ll probably grab some on the way home.”

“Okay...bye, I guess.” Dani watches with scrunched brows and Jeongguk and Taehyung send Yoongi the same look he’s been sending for weeks for a completely different reason. He sends them a smirk, arm slung around your shoulders as the two of you leave your date crashers in the dust with potential of their own.

“Have fun!”

#bts scenarios #bts drabbles #taehyung drabble #jeongguk drabble #bts x oc #the misery chick #yoongi x reader #yoongi drabble #taehyung x oc #jeongguk x oc #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook drabble #jungkook x oc

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spine-buster · 4 years

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 8

November 10th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was in her hotel room.

The Leafs had lost to Chicago. Chicago scored four goals in the first period. It was a shitshow. And although the boys rallied back late in the third period, they just couldn’t get that fifth goal to send it into overtime and at least get a point. William scored two goals – en route to a hat trick – but didn’t get it. He did get third star of the game though. Aberdeen knew he was trying to impress his parents and show off in front of his brother.

The team was spending the night in Chicago before leaving late tomorrow for Long Island, meaning that Aberdeen had the day off and could actually go and explore. She’d never been, and she knew eight or ten hours was not nearly enough to really explore a city, but she thought about taking a city bus tour that hit all the major sites. Truthfully, she was learning more towards just spending the entire day at the Art Institute of Chicago. It was on her bucket list.

After the stress of travelling and the back to back games, she was tired. She’d taken a long, hot shower before putting on her pajamas and slipping into the hotel bathrobe. With her hair wrapped in a towel, she ripped open a sheet mask and put it on, massaging it onto her face. She texted Kasha, who sent her some pictures and videos of Minerva sleeping on her bed, which calmed her down but also made her wish she was curled up with her cat. Eventually, Aberdeen lay upright in bed, trying to get some reading of Women Talking by Miriam Toews done before she fell asleep.

But then there was a light knock at her door.

She was so tired and so annoyed and so engrossed in her book that she didn’t even bother to look through the peephole to see who it was. She forgot she was in her pajamas and bathrobe. She forgot she had an entire sheet mask on her face that made her look like Jason. She just opened the door, not thinking about anything.

Which made seeing William on the other side of the door all the more frightening.

He had quite the amused look on his face. “Hey.”

She shut the door in his face. She turned around so her back was against the door, internally freaking out, looking around for a means of escape. She seriously contemplated jumping out the window. It was only eight floors – that didn’t mean too many broken bones, right? She could…she could…

“Open the door, Aberdeen,” she could hear him from the other side, his voice low but loud enough that only she could hear.

“No,” she said, having the wherewithal to finally rip the sheet mask off her face and shove it into the pocket of the robe. It was still wet, damn it. A sheet mask wasted.

“Come on, Aberdeen.”

“What are you even doing here?” she asked.

“Would you rather Brendan find me outside your hotel room or would you rather hide me in the shower where he wouldn’t see me?” William asked rhetorically.

Aberdeen’s heart and her mind started racing, thinking that Brendan was on the way down to her room or down the hallway or something. She rushed to open the door and stuck her head out, looking down both ends of the hallway. William, for his part, slipped past her and into her room. “Is he here?!” she asked in a harsh whisper.

“God no. Brendan’s asleep,” William said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s eleven at night, Aberdeen. The man needs his rest.”

She looked back at him practically sauntering into her hotel room and shut the door, locking it behind her for full effect. She crossed her arms to make herself appear angry. William still had an amused smile on his face. “I reiterate my question – what are you even doing here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Weren’t you going to dinner with your parents and Alex?”

“That’s done.”

“So, like, don’t you want to spend time with your parents?”

“They have an early morning flight to catch to Dallas to visit Jackie at SMU,” he said. “They went back to their hotel and went to bed.”

“And shouldn’t you be doing the same thing?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Cause I wanted to see you, minskatt.”

A blush overcame her cheeks. “Will, this is really inappropriate,” she said, trying to mask it.

“Why?”

“You’re a hockey player in my hotel room,” she felt like she had to spell everything out for him. “If Brendan finds out he’d freak. If Kyle or Peter found out, they’d freak. Hell, if your teammates found out—”

“Even if they did, they wouldn’t say anything,” William interrupted her.

She stopped dead in her tracks. That was not plausible. Any single one of them would go to Brendan in a second if she and Will were caught together like this. In her hotel room. At night. Alone. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“They wouldn’t. They know that I like you, so they wouldn’t.”

Aberdeen couldn’t respond with anything because she could think of anything to say. He flummoxed her constantly. He kept rendering her speechless and she didn’t know what to do about it – didn’t know if she could do anything about it. She watched as he leaned against the TV stand, crossing his own arms over his chest. “I’m asking for a third time now – what are you doing here?”

“Was that a sheet mask you had on your face before?”

“Yes.”

“For what?”

She gave him major side eye. “Moisturizing. The traveling is drying out my skin.”

Will let out a slight chuckle. He looked past her towards her bed, and she followed his eyes and looked behind her. “What book are you reading?”

Was he being serious right now? Had he seriously made his way into her room to ask her about sheet masks and books? Not like she’d do anything else with him. But still. “Women Talking by Miriam Toews.”

“Do women talk in it?”

She audibly scoffed. “It’s about sexual assault in a Mennonite community.”

Will’s face dropped. “Oh fuck.”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but snort as she saw the look on his face. She tried to cover her mouth and her smile but the attempt was futile. He looked so embarrassed and it just brought her so much…well, delight. “God, Will,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back to grab the book. “You are something else.”

“You like to read, then?” he tried to recover the conversation.

“I have a major in English, Will. And I want to become a writer. You can’t become a writer if you don’t read. Well I mean, you can, but you won’t be very good. And beyond that, I’ve made it my goal to read the shortlist of the Governor General Awards and the Giller Prize,” she said. She saw a slightly confused look on Will’s face. “They’re Canada’s highest literary awards. They’re like – well, not really, but you’re Swedish, so – it’s like being a Nobel Laureate, but obviously the Nobel is much more prestigious. I read them too.”

The smile that appeared on his face was so innocent and pure that she wanted to wipe it off his face. She couldn’t handle it. “I remember that you want to be a writer. You told me the first time we met,” he said. Aberdeen shivered. “So what are you doing here with the Leafs?”

“In my quest for any type of job, they were the only ones that called,” she informed him. “No newspapers or magazines came calling, so it was this or bank telling.”

He pushed himself off the TV console, making his way over to sit beside her on the edge of the bed. He looked over at her. “I think you’d make a great writer.”

“Thanks, but you haven’t read any of my writing.”

“Can I?”

“No.”

It was Will’s turn to snort. “Fair enough. Maybe I’ll get to read it one day.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said, smiling down at the book as she held it between her hands, being very careful not to lose the page. “How was dinner with your parents?” she pivoted, not wanting to talk about herself or her writing anymore. “I bet you miss them a lot.”

William shrugged his shoulders. “I’m kind of used to it. When I was a kid my dad would be gone a lot.”

Aberdeen thought the worst. “Why?”

William looked at her weirdly. “My dad was an NHL player, Aberdeen.” He saw the shock on her face and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Do you not, like, google these things?”

“Why would I google your dad? I thought he was just…I don’t know, your dad!” she tried to defend herself.

“Well, he is just my dad—”

“But he was an NHL player,” she said. “What team did he play for?”

“A bunch. He was a journeyman. Alex and I were actually born in Calgary, but then it was Tampa, Chicago, Washington, Boston, New York…then back to Washington,” William listed off the cities he’d lived in. “It was a lot of moving around. A lot of back and forth. A lot of missing dad.”

Aberdeen could never imagine moving around that much as a kid. She was very fortunate to have lived in the same house her entire life, however old and small it was. She knew William’s life growing up was probably very nice – much nicer than hers, in the sense that he had a lot more money with his dad being an NHL player and all – but all of that couldn’t make up for missing your dad because you couldn’t actually see your dad. The first time Aberdeen realized she actually missed her parents was the grade nine orientation retreat her school ran, when she went to a camp in Muskoka for three days and two nights and got eaten alive by mosquitos. She couldn’t imagine that feeling happening over and over again. And not just over and over again…but throughout her entire childhood. “But Sweden is always home?” she asked, trying to brighten up the mood.

“Always,” he replied automatically, resolute in his tone. “In the summers, when we’d be all together in Sweden, and it was just…you know, family time…that was the best. Our house in Stockholm, or our house in the countryside…it was always amazing.”

Aberdeen smiled at him. He was so clearly fond of Sweden and fond of his family. If their Halloween talk didn’t secure it enough, this did. She wondered how much he missed his siblings on a regular basis; how geographically, they were so far away from each other, but in every other way they were so close. Much like she and Siena. She missed Siena every day.

“Hey Aberdeen?” Will’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“You haven’t kicked me out yet.”

She gave him a look. He started chuckling at her scrunched up face, still glowing with moisturizer. “Don’t push it.”

***

November 13th 2019

Aberdeen felt both mentally and physically exhausted as the charter plane landed in Toronto just before midnight. The Leafs suffered another loss to the New York Islanders, John’s old team (who booed him every time he touched the puck, the savages), even though they battled back again from a goal deficit. Will scored. John scored too. But it wasn’t enough. Now, the team was officially on a three game losing streak (okay, technically only two if you didn’t count the shootout loss against Philly). Aberdeen was just…tired. She had the day off tomorrow to prepare for the Major Donor Dinner that night, worked Friday, and then – surprisingly – a full weekend off, since Brendan wasn’t traveling to Pittsburgh.

To says she was looking forward to it was an understatement.

“Who’s driving Aberdeen home?” John asked out loud as he always did when they came back from road trips late at night. She didn’t know if he’d taken it upon himself as the team captain to spearhead the movement, but she didn’t oppose it anymore. If they wanted to be chivalrous, she wasn’t going to stop them.

She usually rode into the city with Morgan, with Bee picking them up. Twice she’d gotten driven back into the city with Saylor and Kasperi. She was fully ready to hear Morgan’s voice pipe up like it always did – especially because Bee was always on time and already waiting for them by the time they landed. She even saw him about to say it, but he was cut off. “I’ve got it,” Will said immediately, not even looking at her. Morgan looked back at him, shrugging his shoulders. That was that.

Aberdeen noticed he drove a Volvo – of course he would, the Swede. She put her carry-on in the trunk and slipped into the passenger seat, waving goodbye at Justin Holl who had parked beside Will and was already backing out of his space. Will slipped into the driver’s seat, starting the car. He looked over at her, the smallest smile on his face. “Hey.”

“Hello.”

“You tired?” he asked.

“I’m exhausted.”

“Good,” he said, backing out of the parking spot, making his way out and onto the street.

“Good?”

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a while,” he said, a smile on his face.

She side-eyed him. What exactly did he think they were going to get up to in his car of all places? She was wide awake now. “Why?”

“You always have your headphones in on the bus or plane when Brendan doesn’t need you.”

“So?”

“So it’s obvious you like music, and I’ve curated a playlist for this exact moment,” he smiled, fiddling around with his phone. He really shouldn’t have been doing that, since he was driving and it was illegal to do so. Aberdeen looked as he swiped through Spotify quickly, obviously knowing exactly where he needed to go.

“What moment is that?” she asked.

“Driving through Toronto at night,” he said, stopping at the red light. She chuckled slightly to herself, leaning her head back on the headrest and looking out her window. Of all the guys on the team, only Will would do something like this. Bee never made any playlists for driving Morgan home in the middle of the night. Hell, Saylor didn’t either. She was more preoccupied with telling Kasperi the exact details of what she’d been up to while he was gone, or telling him where they were going to go for drinks and oysters after they dropped Aberdeen off. “You ready?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“If you put on Drake to drive through Toronto at night, Will, I swear to God…” she warned.

There was a dramatic pause. The opening notes of Drake’s ‘Passionfruit’ played. Aberdeen overexaggerated her scoff and disgusted face, and William’s infamous laugh was so loud it could be heard over the music. “God, William…” she chastised playfully.

“Oh come on! It’s a good song!” he tried to defend himself.

“It’s one of his better songs, sure. I’ll give you that,” she said. “But what a lousy start.”

Will’s jaw dropped. “Oh, really? You can think of something better?”

“I can think of a million different songs that are better,” she quipped. She looked down at his phone sitting in the little cubby and went to grab it. She scrolled through the list, getting more and more disgusted by the songs and artists he’d added to the playlist. “Your taste in music is awful,” she scoffed again.

“HEY!”

“It’s true!”

“Okay Miss Superior Music Taste—”

“Okay, first of all, if you’re going to choose a Toronto artist to start a ‘driving though Toronto at night’ playlist, it should be The Weeknd,” she began, typing his name into the screen and swiping to add ‘Starboy’ and ‘I Feel It Coming’ to the playlist. “Like, where is Tory Lanez? Where’s Daniel Caesar? And why is it all rappers? This is so stereotypical. You need better music.”

“It doesn’t just have to be people from Toronto,” he said, making a turn. “And it’s all rappers because I li—”

“Seriously, this is awful.”

“You’re really mean when you’re exhausted,” he quipped.

“If it doesn’t have to be just full of people from Toronto then I’m hijacking this playlist and making it good,” she ignored his comment, already swiping her fingers all over his screen and typing in name after name.

Will would glance over occasionally, trying to keep his eyes on the road but finding it hard. She looked so cute concentrating so hard as Passionfruit played in the background. He bit his lip, trying to remain composed. “God, you’re gutting that thing,” he said.

“That’s how bad it is.”

He shook his head playfully. “You better hurry up. Passionfruit’s almost over.” Aberdeen finished off, keeping his phone in her lap as she let Passionfruit end. “It better be good,” he said.

She shot him a playful glare. “It’s awesome, thank you very much.”

As ‘Passionfruit’ ended, ‘Bride’ by San Fermin came on. Aberdeen was immediately pulled into the sounds and beats, closing her eyes and let it wash over her. William, on the other hand, furrowed his brows. “What is this?”

“San Fermin.”

“Who?”

She shot him another glare – how many she’d shot him in this car ride alone, she couldn’t even say. “Can you just listen?”

William gave it about a minute before he began shaking his head again. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

“You’re weak.”

“Put on something good this time,” he said as she picked up the phone again. He switched lanes to get onto the onramp for the Gardiner Expressway. He saw Aberdeen scrolling through the playlist, finally picking a song. ‘Green Light’ by Lorde. “Lorde? Really?”

“Don’t you dare say a bad word about Lorde,” she warned. “She’s perfect. Her music is perfect.”

“You think so?”

“She wrote Pure Heroine at sixteen. Sixteen!” she exclaimed. “I would give my left arm to have written like that at sixteen. I was writing awful, pretentious poetry about stupid boys in my high school at sixteen. And she wrote that entire album!”

William laughed, her clear enthusiasm and love of Lorde shining through in her words. It was adorable. She was adorable. She was many things, but right now, she was adorable. “Is she your favourite?” he asked.

“I have a lot of favourites,” Aberdeen admitted. “But yeah. She’s up there. Do you not listen to her?”

William shrugged his shoulders. “I know Royals. That was the big one, right? That’s basically it.”

“Well, you need to listen more.”

“Not the first time someone’s told me that,” he joked, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

Aberdeen bit her lip. She knew they were in the context of talking about music and her favourite artists, but that was a loaded sentence. When she and Brendan made their way to the locker room after the Islanders game, she could hear Mike Babcock’s voice from down the hallway. She’d watched and listened to some of his post-game interviews, and she wasn’t completely ignorant to the fact that he constantly, constantly, backhand complimented William and his skills. It didn’t matter if William got an assist, got one goal, even two goals – it was like Mike couldn’t say a good word about Will without undermining him somehow. She remembered the season opener, when William told her “I’m used to it” when she asked about it. She shifted uncomfortably in the passenger’s seat. “Will…”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, minskatt.”

She paused to try to collect herself. “What, like…I mean, I don’t mean to be nosey or whatever, or intrude…but what – I mean…like what kind of like—”

“Spit it out, Aberdeen.”

“What’s the issue between you and Mike Babcock?” she finally asked.

Will looked over at her quickly, shocked that she’d asked the question. “Hell if I knew,” he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. That was a lie – he did know part of it. At least, he thought he knew part of it. “I don’t…I…okay. Last year,” he began, “the 2018-2019 season. It was my contract negotiation year. I went unsigned throughout the summer because I was holding out for a specific number and a long-term deal instead of what we call a ‘bridge’, so like a two or three year deal. I…I didn’t want to be anywhere else but Toronto, no matter what anyone else said. I still don’t want to be anywhere else but Toronto,” he explained. “And so, because of that holdout, I didn’t attend training camp. I didn’t play basically for the beginning half of the season. There…there was a lot of drama. A lot of rumours in the Toronto media – really nasty rumours, some of them. A bunch of talk about trading me. It produced this really…I don’t know, this really toxic, like, cloud surrounding me. A lot of people were angry about it. But I got my deal – I signed on December 1st, the last day legally possible to be able to play.”

Aberdeen thought back to what he told her about his dad. How much Will missed him as a kid growing up because Michael would be travelling for hockey. How much Michael was gone all the time. How every few years, the family would have to pack up and move to a completely different city, in a completely different part of the country, following Michael on his journeyman hockey career. Of course William wanted a long term deal. It was no wonder. He didn’t want to experience what he had to experience growing up – being shuffled around the league – now as an adult.

“The media did their job though,” he continued, breaking her train of thought. “They were relentless. Malicious. They turned a lot of people against me – a lot of fans who were influenced into thinking I was a spoiled Swedish brat. Overhyped, overpaid, waste of money. A plug. Getting in the way of hiring a good Canadian boy, forgetting the fact that I was born in Calgary,” he almost smiled to himself, shaking his head. “So…I don’t know. I guess Mike didn’t get over my holdout. Maybe he feels bitter about it. Maybe he thinks I’m selfish, that I shouldn’t have held out. Maybe he thinks I’m an overhyped, overpaid plug taking a spot from a good Canadian enforcer or something. But it’s all hypothetical. It’s all maybes. I can’t tell you why, exactly, he always says those things.”

Aberdeen didn’t know any of this. She didn’t know William held out on his contract. She didn’t know there was a portion of the city that hated just him specifically. She didn’t know about bridge deals, long term deals, and about him wanting to be in Toronto – nowhere else. She didn’t know any of it. And that’s when she finally realized: that was her exact problem. This was why she kept making careless comments that made Brendan so upset. She didn’t know anything about the team; she didn’t know anything about its members, how they got to Toronto, how they liked being here. She didn’t know the history and barely took time to learn.

“You need to walk into this building everyday knowing and understanding the history of this hockey club beyond just the surface level and what Brendan tells you,” Kyle told her after she went crying to him like a baby. “But you already know what to do, Aberdeen. You just need to find it within yourself and do it.”

She needed to understand the team as an institution, but also as a group of guys creating and carrying on the legacy of that institution.

Now she knew.

“That’s awful,” she said, considering everything he told her. She couldn’t believe a coach would hold something like that against a player. “You…you don’t deserve that, Will. Any of it.”

“I know,” he said, nodding his head slightly. “You don’t have to tell me that, minskatt. Mike’s just…listen, he’s a good coach – a great coach. I mean, he’s won two gold medals. And he has a very specific system—”

“William,” she interrupted him. He looked over at her. “Don’t make excuses.”

He smiled at her – a true, genuine smile. And as he did, the opening notes of ‘Style’ by Taylor Swift began to play, and a shiver ran up Aberdeen’s spine. She had to look away – had to – because if she looked any longer at him, she would spontaneously self-combust. That, or lean over the centre console and do something she would immediately regret. As she looked out the front, she saw them approaching downtown – all the lights and the skyscrapers illuminating the city, and the CN Tower lit up brightly in red. “This is my favourite drive,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“This is my favourite drive,” she repeated, speaking up. “This…the Gardiner going into the city. Swerving through all the buildings. All the lights. And this song is perfect for it. Absolutely fucking perfect.”

William continued to smile at her, looking between her and the road as ‘Style’ continued to play. The riff, the beat…everything was perfect. She was busy focused on the view, and on the beat of the song, singing it lightly to herself, her voice getting above the volume of the song only minimally. She even took out her own phone and began recording the drive and the lights, no doubt to post on Instagram later. She looked perfect. She was perfect, at least to him. He needed to utilize every ounce of self-control he had in him as he continued to watch her. “This is really hard,” he said out loud, breaking somewhat.

“What? Listening to Taylor Swift?”

He laughed. “No. All I really want to do is reach across the dash and hold your hand but I know I can’t.”

She blushed, looking down at her hands instead of looking at him. She always had a few rings on – a few dainty ones, stacked, and one her mom gave her that once belonged to her grandmother – and she began playing with them nervously. He signalled to get off at the appropriate exit. “Will…”

“I know, I know,” he said. He was biting his lip down, hard, probably to stop him from saying or doing anything else. “I’m sorry.”

The rest of their ride was silent, since it wasn’t much longer until he reached her condo. When they finally arrived, she made sure he knew he didn’t have to get out of the car when he popped the trunk for her to get her carry-on. She rolled it back to the passenger window. “Thanks for the ride Will,” she smiled.

“Will I see you at the dinner tomorrow?” Will asked out the window, leaning over the centre console.

She paused for a second. He knew about that? She thought it was an office personnel only event. “You’re going?”

“Of course I am,” he smiled.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course you are.”

“Brendan likes to shuffle some of us out as a surprise for the donors. It’ll be me, John, Jason, and Mitch,” he explained quickly. “So I’ll see you there?”

“Yes. You’ll see me there.”

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wqrfwasf · 3 years

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A Family consists of your relatives

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octothorpetopus · 4 years

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Yesterday Came Suddenly (Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid)

A disastrous car accident changes four lives forever.

A/N: this has a happy ending, I promise!

Tags: @rxseinbloom @cha0ticbisexual @starsandsupernovae @agenthotchner @ange-must-die

With the way both of them drove, it was a wonder it had never happened sooner. That being said, it wasn’t either of their faults, not Derek’s behind the wheel or Hotch’s in the passenger seat. It was no one’s fault when a deer came out of nowhere and Derek swerved on instinct, wrenching the wheel right without remembering they were riding the edge of a cliff. He slammed the brakes, but it didn’t matter, they already had enough momentum to carry them over the edge. The car was weightless for a moment, a moment that seemed to last forever. But the moment did end, and the car tipped, glass and metal crunching where they hit earth, first on the front right, then turning so they were rolling, rolling way too fast down the side of the hill, shattered glass flying as the world turned in a nightmarish carousel. It seemed like they rolled for hours down that hill, although it was probably only seconds. They never really knew, because Hotch was knocked unconscious upon first impact, and Derek smashed his forehead against the steering wheel sometime after that. At some point between blacking out and waking up, the car came to a stop, thankfully right side up. Derek woke with a start, gasping for air as if he was drowning. For a moment, he didn’t know what had happened, and all he felt was warm, sticky blood dripping onto his cheeks from a wound over his eye. Then the pain from his legs hit him, and he squeezed his fists so tight he felt the skin on his palms break, but it didn’t matter, it wasn’t anywhere near his legs. When the pain subsided (still, only slightly), he opened his eyes, and at first saw everything through a haze of red. Every window was completely shattered, but the cab of the SUV had held up surprisingly well. The hood, or at least as much as he could see, was crumpled, and the roof was full of dents, but the airbags and seatbelts had saved them from the almost certain death. They’d both have concussions, and Derek was fairly certain his nose was broken, but he was awake and alert, which was a good sign. His hands shook almost comically as he patted himself down. He’d have bruises where the seatbelt cut into his shoulder and waist, but his upper body was mostly fine. His legs, though, were a different story. His left leg bent nauseatingly at mid-thigh. Broken. The lower part of his right leg hung loosely from the knee. Definitely broken. With wavering hands, Derek unbuckled his seatbelt, wincing as it snapped across his bruised ribs. That was the first time he noticed Hotch. Hotch was still passed out, his chin resting on his chest. Derek couldn’t see much of Hotch, except that his left shoulder was sharply out of place and his face was dotted with tiny red cuts where the shattered window had slashed his face.

“Hotch.” He reaches over as much as he could to shake Hotch’s leg. “Hotch. Wake up, come on, Hotch, wake up!” Hotch woke in much the same way Derek had, panting and gasping for air.

“What- what happened?” His eyes scanned the car wildly before coming to meet Derek’s, and they were more terrified than Derek had ever seen him.

“There was… there was a deer, I think. In the road. I swerved, and we must have gone over the edge. The car’s pretty busted up. I’m mostly fine- well, no. Both my legs are broken. Other than that, I’ve got some bruises, a broken nose, probably a concussion, and possibly a broken finger. You look like you’ve got a dislocated shoulder, can you see what else?” Hotch, still slightly bewildered, unbuckled his seatbelt with his right hand.

“My legs are a little bruised up, and so’s my face, but my shoulder looks like it’s the only-“ he went silent, and Derek’s heart dropped.

“What?” He followed Hotch’s gaze down to his stomach, where a growing patch of red surrounded a narrow cut in his shirt. Gingerly, Hotch pulled the fabric away. A cut surrounded by glittering pieces of glass was leaking blood, having previously been camouflaged by the seatbelt. It didn’t look like it went all the way through, but there was already a significant amount of blood.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Hotch’s head fell back against the headrest. “Wait. Can you get your cell?” Derek found his phone on the console, but it was completely busted.

“Try yours.” With his okay hand, Hotch pulled his out of his pants pocket.

“No. It must have gotten crushed between me and the door.”

“Damn it.” If Derek had been any less practical of a person, he would have started crying. He certainly felt like it. But crying wouldn’t help Hotch, who was bleeding out from his stomach. “Hotch, we have to fix your arm if we’re going to have any hope or stopping the bleeding.”

“Okay. Do you know how to do that?”

“I’ve had some first aid training. But I’m also your only shot.” Hotch didn’t hesitate.

“Do it.” Derek turned as much as he could, giving a muffled cry as his legs burned under him. He braced one hand against Hotch’s ribs and grabbed his shoulder in the other. “I’m gonna count to three, and then you’re gonna say ‘wishbone’. Got it?” Hotch nodded, on the verge of hyperventilating but still somehow making an effort to stay calm.

“One… two… three…”

“Wishbone!” Hotch yelped as his shoulder cracked back into place.

“You good?” Hotch, panting, nodded. “You’ll need a better fix down the road, but that’s not our most pressing issue.” Derek, attaining with the effort, pulled off his leather jacket and hoodie. He handed Hotch the hoodie. “I need you to put pressure on the cut. I’m not sure, but the glass might have cut your aorta. If it did, we’re going to have a problem. I would get you out of there and try to hold pressure myself, but my legs-“

“Don’t worry about it, Morgan.” Hotch held the hoodie to his stomach. “We should get those legs set.”

“How?”

“I could try to find some sticks or something-“

“Hotch, you can’t go anywhere.”

“Give me your jacket.” Hotch, still holding the hoodie to his stomach, wrapped the jacket around it, holding the hoodie in place. “Voila,” he said, wincing.

“That’s not gonna last.”

“No, but there’s a first aid kit in the back. I’ll help you get your legs set, then you help me.” Hotch got out of the car, but didn’t shut the door. “There are a few trees down here, I should be able to get decently sized branches and make some splints.” Wobbling slightly, he walked away, disappearing into the underbrush. Derek sighed and sat back, waiting for him to return. Their phones were both dead, and depending on how much damage they’d taken internally, it was possible the trackers could have been destroyed. The same went for the car’s GPS. So if their electronic tracking was out the window, then what? They had been en route to the unsub’s house from the police station. JJ and Rossi had been interviewing the latest victim’s family one last time when Hotch had called and told them where to go. Emily and Reid had been at the coroner. The road that Hotch and Morgan had been driving on was a narrow road along a ravine, which they were now at the bottom of. No one else had been coming from the same direction, so there was no chance of anyone just seeing them on their way. It hadn’t been very long, but it was probably long enough that someone had realized something was up, and once they realized they couldn’t get in contact, it would be an all-out search. That being said, they wouldn’t worry about them until they arrested their unsub, which could be another hour or more, if he ran. And even once they realized something was wrong, they would have to search a significant amount of road. It was possible they could be stranded at the bottom of this ravine for a very long time. Their best bet was to get a fire started, and pray that some poor soul saw the smoke.

“I’m back.” Hotch was breathless, his forehead was shimmering with sweat, and his shirt was deep red around Derek’s hoodie, but he held two sturdy-looking branches in his arms. “Can you turn around?” Derek put his weight back on his arms and tried to swivel out towards the car door, which Hotch had just opened. He managed to turn his hips, but couldn’t manage to move his legs.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice straining.

“Then I need to move your legs, otherwise I won’t be able to get access.” Hotch loosened his tie and pulled it over his head. “Bite down.” Derek took the knot between his teeth and clenched his jaw. He screamed into the purple tie as Hotch seized his leg, even as gently as he could, and turned it out the door. “Just one more. You’re doing great, Morgan.” His other leg burned with a searing, white-hot pain, even after it was fully turned. Hotch pulled his jacket off, gasping as he wrenched the wound on his stomach. He ripped it into strips, which he draped over his shoulder. “This is going to hurt. Really bad.”

“Just do it,” Derek replied, muffled. Hotch lifted his left leg from the calf so that it sat in a completely straight line. Derek yelped, screaming curses into the empty, echoing valley. Hotch tied one of the branches to his leg with strips of his jacket. When he was done, he cupped Derek’s face in his hands, both of them panting heavily. It was a platonic gesture of affection, but a rare one from Hotch. It seemed like if there had ever been a time for it, it was now. The other leg hurt almost more, but Derek held onto consciousness. He would not pass out.

“Your nose might heal a little fucked up, but I’m not going to risk making it worse.”

“It’s fine, Hotch. Could you grab the first-aid kit? Don’t hurt yourself too much.”

“I’m fine.” But his pale, clammy face and the growing red patch gave him away. There wasn’t much Derek could do to stop him, though, was there?

Hotch wasn’t paying that much attention to his own injuries, frankly. He knew that was stupid, especially because Derek was right and if the glass had cut his aorta, he was screwed, but there wasn’t much they could do so far. The most there was in the first aid kit was gauze and bandages, which wouldn’t stop bleeding from a major artery. He could feel himself getting more and more lightheaded with every step towards the back of the car. The trunk wouldn’t open, but the window was completely knocked out, so he was able to reach in and pull out the first aid kit without scratching himself on the glass. From the front of the car, he could hear Derek groaning softly. Maybe there were some painkillers in there, even if it was just Advil. But first, they had some other stuff to handle.

“I have to get you out of there.” Morgan’s eyes narrowed.

“Why?”

“At least until the sun sets. It’s way too hot out here, if we stay in the car we’ll just get dehydrated that much faster. Also, it’ll be more comfortable for you when you’re patching me up.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“I’m going to have to lift you out of there.” Before waiting for a response, Hotch slid an arm under Derek’s arms and grunted as he lifted Derek over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He set him down so he was sitting against the side of the car. “This is where we’ll have the most shade.”

“Ow.” Derek prodded his ribs. “That hurt.”

“Yeah, whatever. Can you help patch me up?” Hotch unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the sandy ground along with Derek’s jacket and hoodie. A few drops of blood landed in the dirt alongside them. As he sat down on the ground, he handed Derek the kit.

“Let’s see… we’ve got gauze, band-aids, rubbing alcohol… nothing for sutures.”

“That’s fine, it wouldn’t have done any good if I’m bleeding internally.” Derek swiped a cotton ball soaked in alcohol across the front wound. Hotch hissed, but didn’t flinch. He allowed Derek to wrap gauze around his stomach, and then slumped against the car beside him.

“So… what do we do?” Hotch just shrugged. He didn’t know what else to do.

“I have no idea. We sit. We wait. And we hope.” Out of the corner of his eye, Hotch saw Derek begin to shake. His first thought was that he was having some sort of seizure from hitting his head, and Hotch’s gut dropped. Then he realized he was crying. He lifted his aching arm, but not the one that was dislocated, and wrapped it around Derek’s shoulders. He wished he could move his other arm enough to fully encompass his friend, but they’d have to settle for this for now. “They’ll find us.”

“God, I hope you’re right,” Derek said through his tears, which cut streaks in the blood and dirt on his face. “I know it’s stupid to be thinking about all the things I wish I’d done, but there are too many.”

“Yeah.” Hotch leaned his head against Derek’s shoulder, another uncharacteristically affectionate gesture, but then again, if there was ever a time for affection, it was now.

Derek was thinking about his house. It was a two-bedroom cottage in the DC suburbs, not the kind of place anyone would have expected from him. He tried his hardest to take care of his garden, but he was always gone too long and the flowers dried up. Who was watering the flowers? For that matter, who was feeding Clooney, his 11-year-old German Shepherd? If he died, would anyone remember to go check on him? He thought about the photos that lined the clean white halls, which he had always meant to paint a bright green but never gotten around to. There were pictures of his mom, his sisters, his dad, his friends. He thought about the tins of cookies stacked up on his counter, which Penelope brought over about twice a week. He thought about the episodes of Storage Wars piling up on his DVR. He had never planned for dying like this. He had a will, every FBI field agent he knew had a will, so that wasn’t an issue. But there were so many things he had never thought about before now. And then there were the things he always planned on doing, like taking Penelope to Thailand, which they’d always talked about, or learning how to weld, or-

“Hotch, can I tell you something?”

“What?” Hotch perked up, but he looked worse than ever. His hand was freezing on Derek’s arm, and the gauze on his stomach was already soaked through.

“I’m talking to you as a friend. Not as FBI agents, and you can’t be my boss about this.”

“Derek. We’re friends.”

“Okay.” Derek swallowed, his throat dry and dusty, but still began to speak. “I wish I’d told all the people I love that I love them.” His heart felt like it was twisting itself in two, but he kept on. “My team. My family. And… Spencer.” Hotch turned just slightly to look up at him, not as surprised as Derek had expected him to be. “I always thought I’d tell him later. I had a plan. I was going to wait and ask him to that French film festival next month. And then I was gonna walk him home and tell him how I felt. I had a whole plan, and now even if I make it through this, I’m still gonna have two broken legs. So no film festival.”

“I’ll be honest, Morgan… I kind of figured.”

“What, you knew I had feelings for him?”

“I didn’t know, but I had my suspicions.” Hotch chuckled and then groaned.

“How’d you know?”

“Well, you always loved to tease him, but last year, you really picked up on it. And I know you well enough to know that’s how you flirt.”

“Wow. You know how I know you’re a better profiler than me? Because you figured it out last year, and I barely got it five months ago.”

“That’s why I’m your boss.”

“So, what, you’re not gonna yell at me for falling for another agent?”

“No. Not right now, anyway. Morgan, don’t ever let this job stop you from loving someone. That’s where I’ve always gone wrong. Those rules exist for a reason, but sometimes… well, fuck the rules sometimes.” Hotch shivered, and Derek pulled him in tighter. It was unbearably hot out, but Hotch was still freezing. That was bad. That meant blood loss. “Still. I wish I’d said something.” He sort of hoped Hotch would say something like “We’re going to make it out of here,” but that wasn’t in the cards. Of course it wasn’t. Hotch wasn’t the kind of guy to make empty promises and Derek wasn’t the kind of guy to believe them. For the first time, he really looked out at the landscape around them. They were somewhere in the Nevada desert, surrounded by nothing but red dirt and the odd tree. The sides of the mountain they had been driving on sloped up around them, steep but not steep enough that they couldn’t have climbed up if not for their various injuries. They were far enough down that someone just driving on the road wouldn’t have seen them unless they noticed the tire tracks and stopped to check it out. His phone was busted, and so was his watch, but judging from the sun’s position in the sky, it was closing in on six o’clock. They had only been down here for a half an hour, an hour max, but who knew how long it would take the rest of the team to catch their guy? And even then, they had about 35 miles of road to check out, and the darker it got, the harder it would be for them to notice the tire tracks. The longer they were down here, the better it was looking that none of the major arteries in Hotch’s body had been harmed, but if they weren’t found within a few hours, that wasn’t going to matter. He’d bleed out anyway. And although his broken legs wouldn’t kill him, Derek realized if he didn’t get water, he’d die of dehydration, or starvation, or heat exposure, or hypothermia, or just plain old hungry desert coyotes. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, only he didn’t know who he was apologizing to. Hotch, maybe. Or God. Maybe it was to his father, who he’d always tried to be as good as, or maybe it was to Spencer for never telling him about his feelings. There were too many people Derek had to apologize to, and for the first time in his 30-something years of life, he was realizing he really might never get the chance.

Meanwhile, Hotch was considering his team. He found that that was how he spent most of his days, at least when Jack wasn’t around. Who else was there to think about? Haley? He didn’t like to sound callous, but there wasn’t much more to think about with her. Beth? Beth, who had left him and gone to New York? Again, what more could he say? There was only Jack, the team, and, well, her.

“Morgan, while we’re on the subject…”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not the only one.”

“Not the only what? Person in love with Reid? ‘Cause if you say you are, I’m gonna-”

“No. Not Reid.”

“Good.” Derek paused. “Wait, then who?” The way he looked at Hotch, he really didn’t know. Then again, Hotch supposed he had always been better at hiding his feelings than the rest of them.

“Emily,” he said simply. “It’s always been Emily.” Beside him, he felt Derek’s head turn to look up at him.

“I- like, our Emily? Emily Prentiss? Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss?”

“No, the other Emily we both know- yes, Emily Prentiss.” Hotch let his head fall back against the car, his hand resting over the gauze on his bare stomach, which was warm and damp with his own blood. He was really bleeding out. It was only just beginning to click, but he pushed it down. Those were feelings he couldn’t afford to deal with right now.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell her? You know she loves you, right?” Hotch sighed.

“Maybe. I don’t know, maybe I know she does. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m her boss, and even if I wasn’t, we still work together. Our jobs rely on us being able to be impartial, and if we’re together… it clouds my judgement, and my judgement is all I have.”

“Hotch, not five minutes ago, you told me to fuck the rules. That was your exact wording. Your judgement if you and Emily love each other out loud instead of in that broody silence you both love so much isn’t going to change, because you’ll be feeling the same feelings you are right now, except then you won’t have the pressure of pushing them down that you’ve had to hold onto for so long. Fuck the rules, right?” Hotch turned to look down at Derek, smiling as much as he could despite the fading black at the edges of his vision.

“Yeah. Fuck the rules.”

Hotch didn’t look so good. Derek didn’t have much to think about, so he thought about that. Hotch’s breathing had slowed. A lot. And there was a lot of blood soaking through the gauze wrapped around his stomach, enough that another layer wouldn’t help. The sun was finally beginning to set, the signal that their chances were about to dim significantly. Even as bad as he looked, Hotch still managed to stand up.

“Where are you- Hotch, what are you doing?”

“I have to grab something. I’ll be right back.” Derek heard him open the door on the other side of the car and rifle through the glove compartment. He returned with a notepad and a pair of pens. Slowly, and with a lot of effort, he sat back down and ripped a sheet off the top of the notepad. He handed it to Derek, along with one of the pens.

“What’s this for?” Hotch grinned, but it was more like a grimace.

“Write him a letter. Spencer. Just… just in case.” With trembling hands, Derek took the paper and pen. He had to brace it against his own hand, so he wouldn’t hurt his leg, but he found he could steady himself enough to write what he needed to. Beside him, Hotch was writing a letter of his own. In shaky, splotchy chicken scratch, Derek began to write.

Spencer,

Don’t worry about me, kid. I know you, I know how much you love to beat yourself up for things. Don’t. What happened was no one’s fault but mine and that stupid deer in the road’s. Things happen and if you’re reading this, the worst thing happened. And if the worst happened, that means I never got to tell you how I feel about you. This is pretty clearly not how I wanted to tell you, but I wanted you to know. This letter is so you don’t have to see my face every day, knowing how I feel about you, and never get to say anything to me. I’m telling you you don’t need to. However you feel about me, just knowing that I love you is all that matters. Don’t feel bad about never telling me if you felt the same, and never feel bad about letting me die loving you if you didn’t. Loving you was all I needed, kid. But oh, man, the things I wish I’d gotten to tell you. I was going to ask you to that French film festival in Baltimore next month. I learned some French for it and everything. You were going to be so impressed with me. Actually, you’d probably shake your head condescendingly, smile, and tell me all about how wrong my pronunciations were, probably. Still. I’m sorry we’ll never get to do that. I’m as sorry that I’ll never get to hold your hand or kiss you in the rain as I am that I’ll never get to make fun of your hair or give you an awkward fist bump. You were my friend long before I ever fell for you and you’ll be my friend even when I’m gone. I’m running out of space to write. I love you.

Your friend,

D. Morgan

When he finished writing, he finally noticed the tears bleeding through the paper, mixed in with smudges of blood from his broken nose. He folded the letter and shoved it in his pocket. That letter would survive the sun and the elements. Even if he didn’t.

Hotch was writing his own letter. At first, he didn’t know what to say. What was there to say? I’m sorry I’m dead, I love you? But then again, that was probably better than saying nothing at all. So he started writing, really having no idea where he was going at all.

Dear Emily,

This isn’t an apology. I think I should say that first. Although I have a lot to apologize for, I only have a little room and I don’t want to take up your time with the things that won’t matter if you’re reading this. The long and the short of it is that I never told you how I felt about you. How I feel about you even now as I write this letter. I know I said this wasn’t going to be an apology, but I am sorry about not telling you sooner. There was just too much to think about. There’s less to think about now. All I can think of is Jack and you. If I ever get out of here, I swear to god I’ll tell you that myself. I didn’t tell you because you deserve so much more than me. You deserve the entire universe and then some, so much more than one tired old man who can’t even save himself. I have a few requests for you, if it’s not out of line for me to ask. First, don’t blame me, don’t blame yourself, and if Derek gets out of here and I don’t, don’t blame him. It’s no one’s fault. Second, Haley’s sister can and will take Jack in, but make sure he knows the team is as much his family as any of his blood relatives. I don’t worry about him forgetting me, but I don’t want him forgetting you either. My last request is my biggest. They’ll have to fill my position as soon as possible, and I want them to give the job to you. You’re the best suited to take over, and I trust you to keep the team on track. Strauss will put up a fight, but there’s a document in my desk that outlines all of my reasons and wishes for the team following my death. Your promotion is the first thing on that document. If you don’t want the job, I obviously can’t make you take it, but if your only reason is because you think I only want you to have it because of my feelings for you, it’s not. My faith in you as an agent, as a person, and as a friend is never-ending.

-Hotch

Before putting the letter in his pocket, Hotch turned to Derek, his face and tone stern.

“Derek. If anything happens to me, if you get out of here and I don’t, you make sure this gets to Emily. Promise me.”

“I promise, Hotch, of course. You’ll do the same for me?”

“Yes.” Hotch held his hand out for a shake, but Derek just took it and held it, his hand warm and firm against Hotch’s. “We should start thinking about a fire. It’s going to get cold out here before too long.”

“I don’t think so, Hotch. I can’t walk, and you’re not looking too good.” Hotch couldn’t see himself, but he didn’t feel good either. His heartbeat was thready, but fast, like a hummingbird’s. His vision spun, and his grip was weakening by the minute. If he had been a praying man, Hotch would have started praying about now. But he didn’t really believe in God, so who was there to pray to? He turned his head up towards the darkening sky and thought of Emily.

It was fully dark now. Stars unlike anything Derek had seen in Chicago or D.C. lit up the sky, and he would have marveled at their beauty if not for the cold that was beginning to dig deep into his bones. Between the two of them, they had three jackets that they had sort of formed into a patchwork blanket over them, but it wasn’t enough. Hotch shivered against him, and Derek felt more powerless than he had at any point since the crash. His friend was dying, like it or not, of blood loss and hypothermia and god knew what else, and there was nothing he could do except wait for them to be found. They were both still awake. That was good. But they hadn’t seen a single car pass by in five hours, at least. That was bad.

“Come on, buddy, stay awake.” Derek shook Hotch gently, careful not to touch his bad shoulder. Hotch blinked rapidly, but he looked more exhausted than ever. In the dark light, he was ghostly pale.

“I’m up.”

“Good.” Together, they watched the stars for a bit. “Spencer taught me some of the constellations.” He pointed as he recognized them. “That’s Gemini, the twins. And Columba, the dove.”

“I never knew anything about astronomy. I always had a plan to learn, but then…”

“Time gets away from you.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“I was going to learn how to bake.” Hotch didn’t respond. “Hotch?” When Derek glanced down at him, Hotch’s eyes were just fluttering shut, and his muscles relaxed. He looked like a rag doll. “Hotch, come on. Come on, buddy. Come on.” Derek shook him more aggressively now, caring less about whether he hurt the busted shoulder. Hotch could recover from a dislocated shoulder, but he wasn’t going to get the chance if they didn’t get some help, and soon. “Help!” Derek screamed, his voice ripping through the empty black fabric of the desert. “Someone help us, goddamnit!” Other than an echo off the side of the ravine, there was nothing. And then there was something. At first, he thought maybe he was imagining it, or that it was just the stars reflecting off the red rocks. Then it got closer, and he realized what it was.

Headlights.

If he could have stood up, he would have, but he settled for screaming. “Help us! We’re down here!” The headlights slowed, and Derek saw them glance off the shiny black finish of the Lincoln SUVs he recognized so well. Four silhouettes appeared in the lights, and one of them shone a flashlight down. Derek flinched at the brilliant light, but still, he smiled, tears pouring down his cheeks.

“Morgan?” Rossi’s voice bounced off the rocks to reach him.

“You gotta get us out of here!”

“We’re coming down!” Carefully, but as quickly as they could, the four silhouettes clambered down the side of the cliff, which wasn’t so much a cliff as it was a steep, rocky hill. JJ reached them first, her eyes wide.

“Oh my god, what happened?”

“There was a deer in the road, I swerved… you get the rest. Look, we have to get Hotch out of here, he’s lost a lot of blood and he just passed out.”

“Hotch!” Emily, who had just arrived, rushed to him. “Rossi, give me a hand.” Together, the two of them managed to secure Hotch’s arms over their shoulders and begin to carry him out. Spencer was the last to arrive, passing Emily and Rossi on their way out. He gave a short, pained cry when he saw Derek sitting on the ground.

“I’m okay, kid.”

“No, you’re not! I- your legs!” Derek ignored this momentarily.

“JJ, call 911. I’ll have to stay down here until the ambulance comes, there’s no way you can get me out without a stretcher.”

“I have to go back up to get service.” She looked between Derek and Spencer nervously.

“I’ll stay with him. Go.” She began the climb back up, and Spencer knelt in front of Derek. “Derek, follow my finger.” Spencer held up a finger and waved it back and forth in front of Derek’s eyes. “What’s the date today?”

“February… uh…”

“Derek.”

“I can’t remember.” Spencer paused, his brow furrowed in focus, but relaxed.

“You’re almost certainly concussed, but so far, it seems like you’ve avoided major brain damage.”

“Oh. Good.” Despite the pain that hadn’t subsided since the crash, Derek managed a smile. “It’s good to see you, kid.”

“What the hell happened?” Spencer asked, uncharacteristically tender. His face was weary and ten years older than he had been this morning.

“Deer jumped into the road, I swerved. The car held up better than I would have expected.”

“You could’ve died.”

“I’m aware.” Spencer hesitated, searching Derek’s face with those big hazel eyes, the eyes that saw everything, like he had some kind of superhuman x-ray vision. “Spencer, I-” He was cut off by the sound of sirens. “Christ, that didn’t take long.”

“Well, we’ve kinda had a whole search party going for the last couple of hours.”

“You found me.” Spencer squeezed his hand, and if Derek’s heart hadn’t already been pounding, it would have started.

“I found you.” They were joined by a series of EMTs with a stretcher, who carried Derek out of the ravine, noting as they went the cleverness of the splints Hotch had made. No one said anything about Hotch.

Hotch woke up in a quiet, empty hospital room with sunlight streaming in through the windows and an oxygen mask over his face. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn’t in pain. They must have loaded him up with painkillers for his shoulder. Also, he wasn’t dead. That was nice. The door opened, and Emily stepped in, holding a Starbucks cup and looking dead tired. She didn’t seem to notice he was awake at first, and she leaned against the door, breathing slowly and deeply.

“Come on, Aaron. Wake up. Please.” He cleared his throat as best he could, and she jumped. “Oh my god!” He smiled.

“Hi.”

“I- hi.” She sat down in the chair beside his bed. “We were worried about you for a while there.”

“Yeah? Last thing I remember was Morgan telling me about constellations, and then…” He gestured to the room around them.

“You lost a lot of blood. If we’d gotten there even a few minutes later, I don’t-”

“You didn’t. You got there in time. Don’t think about what didn’t happen.” She brightened at that, a brilliant smile spreading across her face.

“Oh!” She jumped again, this time in recollection. “Your clothes are kind of ruined, but they found this in your pocket.” She pressed the letter, the one he’d written to her in what he thought were his last moments, into his hand.

“Did you… did you read it?” She shook her head, completely innocent to the letter’s contents. Good. He had hoped she wouldn’t have to read it. He hoped she would never have to read it.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Just a contingency plan, I guess.” She nodded, as if that was enough explanation, although Hotch could tell it wasn’t.

“Listen, Hotch-”

“Emily, I-”

“You go first.”

“No, go ahead.” Emily folded her hands as if to steady them and stared at the spot just above Hotch’s head. Hotch recognized that well. She couldn’t bring herself to look into his eyes.

“You flatlined in the ambulance. Twice. And I’ve never been as scared in my life as I was those two times I thought you were gone for good.”

“Em-”

“No, let me finish. I know… there’s a lot of things we’ll have to figure out, but Hotch…” Her pleading, earnest eyes bore into him. “I think maybe I love you. I think maybe I have for a long time. And it’s not worth it for me to stay quiet anymore. If you need to transfer me to a different unit, um, I-”

“Emily.” Despite his gentle tone, she still looked up at him, shocked. “You’re not getting transferred.”

“Hotch, I can’t ask you to-”

“No, Emily. You’re not getting transferred and I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do.” Slowly but surely, he reached over to take her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers.

“...oh.”

“All I could think about out there was you and Jack. I’m not staying quiet anymore either.” Emily tried and failed to bite back a grin.

“We’re going to have to talk to HR.”

“Yep.”

“Strauss is going to flip her shit.”

“Strauss isn’t going to find out, and if she does, she’s going to have to take me down.”

“We’re doing this?”

“I’m up for it. Are you?” Emily didn’t hesitate. She just kissed him, careful to avoid his arm and stomach injuries. Hotch was honestly pretty sure it was the best kiss of his life. Almost made the near-death experience worth it.

Derek also woke up in a sunny hospital room, only his wasn’t empty and it was far from quiet. The first thing he heard was Spencer yelling.

“...I know you did an MRI, but you need to test his TBI and monitor his ICP! Christ, where did you get your medical degree, the internet?”

“Spencer.” His voice was low and raspy, but it got Spencer’s attention well enough. “Let the doctors do their jobs.”

“But they’re not, they’re not running all the tests they should be, and-”

“Spencer.” Like a petulant child, Spencer quieted, and the doctors took their chance to leave. He didn’t stay annoyed for long, he couldn’t help it.

“How are you feeling?” Derek sighed.

“Well, I’ve got one hell of a headache, but the painkillers seem like they’re doing their jobs.”

“You got lucky. Only one of your legs was a total fracture, and neither one caused much internal bleeding.”

“How about my nose? Is my face gonna be all fucked up?”

“It took a little plastic surgery, but your nose will be good as new.”

“Good. One of us has to be the pretty one, and we both know it’s supposed to be me.” Spencer tapped a nervous melody on his bony knee, which bounced like what Derek liked to call Restless Leg Syndrome On Steroids.

“You should have driven with us. I know you hate sitting in the backseat, but-”

“Spencer. It’s not your fault. Or mine.”

“Yeah. I got that.” Derek’s brows furrowed. What the hell did that mean? Spencer brushed his curls off his forehead, trying not to smile and failing desperately. He hugged Derek tightly, and Derek let him, despite his bruised ribs screaming.Derek unbaked deeply, taking in the scent of coffee and lemon soap he knew so well. He had nearly fallen into a trance when Spencer spoke. “So, French, huh?”

“What?” At first, Derek thought maybe he had gotten some severe brain damage. Then it clicked and he pulled out of Spencer’s arms, eyes wide and heart in his throat. “...you read it.”

“It fell out of your pocket in the ambulance. I thought…” Spencer laughed, a little bitterly. “I thought maybe it was your will.” Derek didn’t know what to say. He really was at a loss for words. Everything he had meant to say was in that letter, which Spencer had already read.

“Then you know how I feel about you.” Derek opted for confidence, with just a touch of defiance. He was daring Spencer to make the next move. Spencer, who had never been particularly daring in Derek’s eyes, made his move. He kissed Derek, so fast Derek didn’t register it until Spencer’s teeth grazed his lower lip, and his hands were already tangled in Spencer’s messy curls. When the kiss finally broke, Spencer flushed from his neck to his ears. “So. It’s probably a little late to ask if you feel the same way.”

“Sorry. I just… I thought I was being obvious for so long, and you just never noticed. I figured I couldn’t get more obvious than that.” Derek reached up to cup Spencer’s cheek, running his thumb over Spencer’s perfect pink lips.

“Je veux faire ça depuis longtemps,” he said, his face scrunched in concentration.

“Vous auriez dû le faire il y a des années,” Spencer replied.

“Yeah, I don’t know what that means.” They stared at each other in affectionate silence and then burst out laughing. It was the same easy warmth they had had between them for the last nine years, only now there was more. The love had not replaced the friendship, it was just another layer. Derek took Spencer’s hand and squeezed, smiling gratefully. “You saved my life, Spencer Reid. Not just because you got me out of that ravine. Not just because you bullied the doctors into giving me all the tests in the book. You saved me because I had something to fight for out in that Nevada desert, and I’ll always owe you for that.”

“You’ll never owe me anything.” Spencer shrugged. “Isn’t that kind of the point?”

“I’m sorry we won’t be able to go to that film festival.”

“Who says?”

“Uh, the plaster casts that’ll be on my legs for the next six to eight weeks?”

“So you’ll go in a wheelchair. You’re taking me out, man, just like you said you would.” Derek hesitated.

“Take me for a walk.”

“Huh?”

“Take me outside. Then we’ll talk.” Spencer shrugged.

“I’ll check with the doctors, but that should be fine. One second.”

Momentarily, they were outside. Across the street from the Nevada hospital, there was a decent park. Spencer pushes Derek in a wheelchair, tossing his hair in the cool winter breeze.

“Are you enjoying being home?” Derek asked.

“Alright, out with it,” Spencer said, ignoring the question. “What’s the deal? Why don’t you want to go?” Derek sighed.

“Come look at me.” Spencer circles around him and crouched so he was at eye level for Derek. “I don’t want to go because it’s in Baltimore.”

“And? What’s wrong with Baltimore? We go to Baltimore for drinks once a week.”

“Yeah. And how do we get to Baltimore?”

“Derek, whatever you’re trying to say, will you just say it?”

“I don’t want to get back in the car!” Derek shouted. “I don’t want to go to Baltimore because I don’t want to drive there.” Spencer stared at him analytically for a moment, then smiled softly and patted Derek’s knee.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We’ll just watch action movies at your place.”

“And you’re… okay with that?”

“Yeah. I feel like I owe you that much, at least.”

“You’ll never owe me anything.” Derek pulled Spencer down to kiss him quickly, but sweetly. “Isn’t that kind of the point?”

#criminal minds #cm fanfic #cm fan fiction #cm fic #cm #cm angst #moreid #hotchniss #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #emily prentiss #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic

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lihikainanea · 4 years

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Can we discuss Tiger acknowledging Gustaf’s sensual essence. She’s not attracted to him in a legit way, but she recognizes how he’s just a walking sexual being and Bill finds this out and is just like please no. He’s a little jealous but also insecure cause that’s his big bro who he’s closest to and that’s his rock. Bill feels all the feelings.

Look man, Gustaf’s sensual essence is just....it’s impossible to ignore. I know little to nothing about this human, and yet I feel like I know his soul. Gustaf is good people. He’s calm people. He’s kind people. And while I’m still reeling from that sweet, sweet--god SO SWEET photo of him and his grandmother that he posted awhile ago (I think it was Mother’s Day in Europe?I can’t remember) but he’s just....Gustaf is one of those dudes that you never quite get over. Even if you’ve broken up, even if it’s years down the line, somehow--you always still think about a dude like Gustaf. And you wonder. You wonder if he’s well, if he’s found someone he's happy with. You wonder what he’s up to, if he ever ended up getting that motorcycle that he could never shut up about. You wonder if he still drinks his coffee black, if he still takes a bubble bath at least once a week and listens to Enya. You just...wonder.

But like look, you know what gets me here? Is maybe tiger acknowledges his sensuality, his mystique, in a far more subtle way--which in turn, just makes Bill so much more angry.

Hear me out.

So I like to think of tiger as a little ball of absolute fucking fire--she’s bitey, snappy, sassy, angry all the time and quite loud about it. She’s just hell on wheels, and Bill is her big calm dude who is always even-keeled and mild mannered. Ever notice how big dudes tend to be the most gentle? They tend to be the calmest? It’s because they know they can win the fight. All these other little dudes have to puff their chests out like peacocks, full of machismo and male ego, trying to prove a point. Big dudes are rarely like that. They don’t gotta prove nothin’.

In any case, maybe it’s the famed Skarsgard family camping trip and tiger has been even more high strung because of work stress. Tiger is basically being insufferable to Valter, and she’s sniping at Bill but he’s taking it in stride because he loves her anger. Gustaf though, Gustaf just watches it all calmly. Gustaf plots. He observes, but then he waits.

And maybe when tiger is having tea out by the dock, he comes over with a big blanket, undoes it, places it on her lap.

“Did you know,” he starts lowly, sitting down and resting his forearms on his knees, “That your shoulders are up by your ears?”

Tiger glares.

“All that tension must hurt,” he said, “Come on, take a deep breath.”

And tiger--like any warm blooded female--tiger has a bit of a soft spot for Gustaf. He’s not one you sass. So instead she huffs a bit because she just has to voice her displeasure somehow, but then she does it--takes a big, deep inhale through her nose, and breathes it out slowly through her mouth.

“Good,” he says, “Stand up for a second.”

And the difference is, Gustaf--much like Bill--doesn’t give tiger a chance to say no. He stands, takes her mug and places it on the table, then pulls her up gently, walking behind her.

“I tend to carry all of my tension right....here,” he pokes between her shoulder blades and she’s wound so tightly that she flinches, “And it seems you do too.”

Two big hands wrap around her shoulders, and she instinctively stands a little taller.

“Deep breath again,” he says. Tiger inhales, and on the exhale, Gustaf pulls her shoulders back. She nearly sags in relief, feeling the ball of tension in her back easing.

“Again,” he says, “And this time, try to pull away from me.”

So she takes a deep breath, and as he pulls her shoulders towards him, she resists and tries to pull them forward.

“Oh my god,” she moans at the deep stretch, “Oh fuck.”

He makes her do it three more times, and at the end he just runs his hands down her arms, throws the blanket over her shoulders.

“Tomorrow morning,” he says, “Sunrise. Out here.”

“Oh, no. No no. I don’t do mornings. I sleep through sunrises.”

But he smiles gently, runs a thumb across the deep bags under one eye.

“You’re not sleeping at all these days,” he says. And without another word, he retreats into the house.

And like, look. For a solid week, tiger joins him out on that dock, and he starts introducing her to yoga. Maybe a bit of meditation. Just very, very gentle stuff--no tough poses, nothing that hurts, just focused a lot more on breathing. And tiger is....slowly becoming much more peaceful, under his tutelage. And she starts to cherish those mornings, because Gustaf is sensual but tiger doesn’t feel it in a sensual way. She kind of just...she wants to cuddle Gustaf. Just wants to be in his presence, because he’s so incredibly calming and so nurturing. Gustaf is good people, he always was. So tiger spends nearly every morning with him and she comes back refreshed, calm, positive, invigorated. And Bill isn’t really any the wiser, because he sleeps like a log with the country air and tiger is usually back before he can even wake up.

But Bill notices one rainy afternoon, when they’re all in the living room playing Mario Kart. She’s on the couch and he’s on the floor in front of her, her legs over his shoulders as he strokes idly at them, his nose in a book. But he’s keeping an eye on the screen--and this is the fifth straight round that tiger has lost spectacularly. She’s either gone flying off the rainbow road or Valter has annihilated her with a tortoise shell of death--every round--and Bill flinches a little, in anticipation of the impending storm. He waits for it, ready to catch the controller that will for sure go flying by his head en route to his brother’s, maybe he even grips her ankle a little tighter to get a better hold in case she decides to fling HERSELF at Valter’s head. He clenches his jaw, wincing already and just hoping the trail of cusswords isn’t screamed too loudly or too closely to his ear.

But instead, he hears the controller be placed gently back on the couch, and he hears tiger take in three deep breaths--calming, rhythmic, steadying. And he peers up at her curiously just in time to see her eyes reopening, her shoulders lowering back to their normal position. And he’s just about to ask her if she’s feeling alright, until it happens.

It happens.

Gustaf reaches over, and gently taps the back of his knuckles on her bicep.

“Atta girl,” he says, “Doesn’t that feel better?”

Bill’s blood runs cold.

And it’s not that he thinks Gustaf would ever do something, it’s not that he thinks TIGER would ever do something--it’s just that Gustaf’s aura is addictive, it’s undeniable, and Bill is a jealous bean when it comes to his Little Human. And this type of thing happens all the time with brothers, it’s normal. Bill isn’t threatened so much as he is just...a little irrational about it all. And he’s also pretty disturbed because he loves tiger’s fire, and he loves his role in it--tiger gets all up in ends about everything and it’s Bill’s job to smooth it out, calm her down, make her feel better. He likes being that person for her, he likes being her balm and her sense of reason with everything.

And in true Bill fashion, I’ll bet he lets it eat away at him for the entire day. Doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even squeak when Gustaf and tiger get into a really deep conversation about the powers of the psyche, the depths of the mind, ways of using emotions to control physical reactions in your body. Tantra. Bill doesn’t say a word.

But later on that night as they’re getting ready for bed, tiger pulls him down for a sweet kiss.

“I like this,” she runs her thumb over his scruff, “It’s sexy.”

“Why didn’t you yell at Valter?” he asks suddenly. Tiger looks at him, confused.

“What?”

“Valter needs to be yelled at,” Bill pulls his face from her hands and walks over to the door, opening it and jutting his chin.

“Go yell at him.”

Tiger is dumbfounded, and Bill eventually sighs heavily and slams the door shut a little too hard.

“Why are you so calm?” he demands.

“Why are you so...not calm?” she asks, “Bud, what’s going on?”

“Tiger, I like your fire. I like that you’re just....always angry. Because then I get to be the one who comes in and...helps. And I know you don’t need my help, but I like being that guy for you. I like that you get all angry and pissed off and that you snap at everything, because I like how it feels when I’m the only one who can talk you down,” he say, “Until, apparently, I’m not the only one who can talk you down.”

But tiger’s not an idiot. She knows there’s more.

“And what else?” she prompts. Bill shifts those big eyes of his, but tiger just crosses her arms.

“And you’re in love with Gustaf,” he mutters.

“There it is.”

She sighs, walks to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Bill, I’m not in love with Gustaf,” she says, “He has good energy. He was showing me tricks to try and relax a bit more.”

“But he’s....tiger, every single female on this planet is in love with Gustaf,” he pouts, “All this energy meditative calming tantra bullshit. He’s all sensual and mysterious and--”

“Bill,” she cuts him off, “So are you. Do you ever wonder maybe where you might get that from?”

His pout deepens, but he stays silent.

“Buddy, you have the closest bond with Gustaf because you two are so much alike,” she continues, “You have good in your soul. You have kindness in your soul, god just the way you take care of me is incredible. Your calm nature, your empathy. These things can't be taught, but they can be cherished and nurtured. And I think Gustaf did that for you.”

She plunks her head on his chest, puckers her lips for a kiss and he bends slightly, lays a soft peck on her mouth.

“I’m intrigued by Gustaf. Calm people intrigue me. But I’m not in love with Gustaf. I’m not even attracted to Gustaf.” she says, “It’s you, Billy Goat. You. You you you.”

He kisses her softly again, but then he pouts.

“There’s a ‘u’ in Gustaf.”

“Bill.”

#family drama #BFF!Bill #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drama #gustaf #I still want Gustaf to like...fuck my soul

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 4 years

Text

;A; I am so glad you like my soft!Dark! Sorry about the delay (I’ve had some personal stuff to work on) but I hope you like this! I will say before we start that I personally don’t headcanon the Egos living together in one big building, so hopefully this will still work for you!

Word Count: 1,177

Sometimes, you REALLY hated your housemate.

Not all the time. Bim, despite his flamboyant tendencies and obsessive crushes on certain guys, was actually good company. The two of you got along like a house on fire! You knew you had your flaws - you sometimes forgot to do the dishes, your work rota meant your hours could be haphazard, and you were known for staying up late talking to friends online - but at least none of your flaws were as bad as Bim’s biggest one - he NEVER warned you when he was having work colleagues over to work on various whatevers.

Sure, it was Bim’s house first, and not yours… But a little bit of manners went a long way, right?

You didn’t bear to count the number of times you trudged to the kitchen in pyjamas, or in a hoodie and sweatpants, only to be greeted by some of Bim’s studio colleagues. It was SO embarrassing to be caught en route to the kitchen, creeping through the hallway like a goblin stealing loot. Most didn’t seem to mind - in fact, one with a pink moustache bought you the fluffiest bathrobe you’ve ever seen after he noticed how worn out your old one looked - but there was one who did seem to mind. According to Bim, he called himself ‘Dark’ and nearly always wore sophisticated outfits. Mostly suits, but you spotted turtlenecks, a fancy shirt with the top button undone, and a cardigan at one point. In brief, he always seemed to throw you a dismissive look when he caught you.

Eventually, you had to accept your fate that you would always be caught in lounging outfits. You would be sprawled on the couch, scrolling Tumblr when someone would pop their head in and ask where something was. Without looking, you’d point them in the right direction. Then other times, like today, they would engage in small talk while getting something out of the kitchen, but you would only be half-listening, giving a light ‘mhmm’ in response as you tried to finish the challenge in the game you were playing. That only meant that you jumped in fright when a glass of water was placed on the table beside you.

“Why the surprise?” Oh, it was Dark. Your scowl only had his lips curl in amusement. “What? You had responded positively when I asked if you wanted a drink. At least that confirms you weren’t really paying attention.” At last, you paused your game, if only for a moment, so you could interrogate his actions. This only resulted in an eyebrow raise to begin with. “I would consider it good manners to be polite to the housemate of one of my co-workers. We constantly interrupt your personal life and prevent you from enjoying… That.” His hand loosely gestured to what you were wearing. It seemed his standards of politeness were rather low if he seemed content to belittle what you were wearing. Before either of you could say anything, the clock on the wall chimed the hour, and you realised you hadn’t long before you were meeting your friend. You clicked your console to standby and promptly dismissed yourself without much of a farewell. When your back was turned, you missed the way the entity’s expression fell to slight confusion.

Tonight was a big night. It was the first time in weeks yourself and your closest friends were able to meet up. Who knew unpredictable work schedules would make it difficult to organise anything? At least by it being on your day off, you could give yourself plenty of time to get ready. A nice, long shower helped wash away the stresses of the week. It was only as you were drying your hair you allowed yourself time to reflect on the encounter with Dark. What was he trying to achieve? On one hand, he was clearly trying to be nice. On the other, he was awful at it. Your final conclusion was that while Dark was trying to be sweet, the clock saved the conversation from becoming even more awkward.

You allowed yourself enough time to dry your hair and pick a simple, yet classy outfit. With the season in mind, you even dared to add a splash of colour via the tidy button-up shirt. Sure, it was partially hidden by a blazer, but it’s the thought that counts! Luckily, you gave yourself too much time as discovered by an apologetic text from your friend about a delay. It wasn’t a surprise, but you were glad to have the few minutes to get to a sufficient save point in your game. To your immense relief, the living room was empty when you poked your head in and resumed playing. Just as you exited to the main menu, there was a knock on the wall, followed by someone calling your name. You glanced over your shoulder and rose to your feet, only for your expression to drop upon seeing who it was.

“I wanted to apologise for earlier. I am normally not one to partake in small talk and it… shows…” Dark trailed off as he finally set eyes on you. In that moment you could have sworn you saw a genuine smile appear. You put your glass down and jokingly apologised for dressing up for a change, but you can’t go out for dinner in a fluffy pink bathrobe.

“I suppose that is a valid point. What time will your date be arriving at?” When you corrected him, you were once again sure you saw a trace of relief. Deciding that since your status as acquaintances was already awkward, you threw caution to the wind and teased about whether Dark was interested in dating you. Surprisingly, he looked aside with a hint of embarrassment. A few seconds passed as both of you tried to figure out what to do, but Dark broke the silence with a laugh.

“I assure you I’m not usually this awkward. Can you tell I am rather inexperienced in this department?” You nodded, baffled. Bim insisted Dark was ‘terrifying’ to work with, yet here he was getting bashful over the potential of a date! However, you were rather curious, and tested the waters again with another witty remark. This time, you decided to ‘offer your services’ to help Dark work on his small talk skills and avoid being a ‘social embarrassment to the entire world’, and you might even consider dressing in something that wasn’t casual for a change. In response, Dark smiled.

“It’s a date. Mayhaps I might even dress more informally for a change.” You rolled your eyes and pointed out that it seemed highly unlikely given what you’d heard, but it was the right thing to break the ice a little more. Who knows? It might be fun.

Elsewhere, Bim grinned and collected the bets from some of the other Egos. You might hate your housemate at times, but you’ll appreciate the celebratory night out he has already started planning with the profits of the bet once you get home.

#writersofmark #darkiplier x reader #dark x reader #darkiplier #Self Insert #Selfshipping #Cracked Mirror (Dark)#(read-more is for tidiness! :D )#(also it's a little bit of a blathering narrative >u<; )#(again; I'm real sorry for the delay! I had to muster myself back into writing before I could take this request!)#personal fave

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reminiscing-writer · 5 years

Note

Spencer Reid x Reader where she confesses shes always loved him while held at gun point like jj did?? Thank you baby ❣

YES OKAY *clears throat*

WARNING:

References to rape, being held hostage, violence

—————

You were shaking, not from fear, but from the cold of the freezer you were being held hostage in.

Your captor played with the revolver in his hands, and put it to his bottom lip, as if he were thinking, “I’m bored! Come on! Give me a good one!” He exclaimed loudly, his voice booming in the closed room.

“David, there are agents en route, there’s no use in dragging your game out.” Spencer, your fellow partner and captive, spoke up. He was hunched over from a previous fight between him and the unsub, his left eye black and blue, hair disheveled, and cheeks bloody with scratches. Both of you had your hands tied behind your back, and were sat to face one another.

“But, you see,” David Bryce said with a tsk, “the game is what makes the killing even more fun.” He pointed the gun to you, “Tell me a secret.”

You rolled your eyes. You had it with his bullshit game. For the past hour he had just been having you and Spence reveal petty things about yourself. He wasn’t getting anything that satisfied him, and you planned on keeping it that way.

“I’m an alien,” you said, looking at him cocking your head, “bite me.”

Bryce wasn’t having at your smart remark, and hit you with the butt of his gun. Aiming the revolver back at you, he rolled the cylinder and pulled down the hammer, making the bullets make a noise as one fell into the barrel.

“I said,” he growled, “tell me a secret. And make it good,” he walks towards Spence, taking the gun off you. He hits him with the guns butt, causing your friend to fall to side, groaning, with a bloody nose, “or Pretty Boy gets it.”

“Spence! You asshole!” You growled, pulling at the restraints holding you back. He pulled his leg back to kick Spence, when you yelled out, “Fine! I’ll tell you!”

He grimaced at your surrender. Looking at you expectantly, he walked towards you.

“Tell your Prince Charming here about that time in college.” He smirked to you.

Your eyes widened at him, “W-What?” You breathed out quietly.

“You remember, don’t you? With that party girl phase.” He looked at you like a predator with its prey. You could tell he was happy to have stricken a nerve.

You felt as though a wall you had built up around you had crumbled in a matter of seconds. “Please,” you pleaded, shaking your head.

“We haven’t got all day,” he played with him in his hands, “Party Girl.” He smirked.

You clenched your jaw, trying to play a strong character, “It was nothing. I was in college and got wasted at a party.” You avoided eye contact with both your captor and your best friend. Spencer had no idea what you were talking about. He looked at you with confused eyes.

“Oh, come on!” David come towards you, “Don’t make me push it out of you.” He threatened, grabbing your jaw roughly.

You had tried for years to bury this memory, and here you were, at gunpoint, having to relive it, in front of your friend.

You gulped, “I was in college,” you started off quietly, “I was at a party, and had a few too many drinks. My- my boyfriend at the time said he would take me home, but,” you swallowed a lump in your throat, and blinked twice as you felt your chest tighten, “but, instead him and a few of his friends took me into the basement of the house we were in, and they took advantage of me.” You quickly spit out, running through your sentence, like it burned your tongue.

David peered his eyes at you. He squat down in front of you, “How many guys were there?”

You avoided his eyes, “Four.” You whispered. You could feel Spencer’s eyes on you.

“Did they take turns?” He pryed. “Or, just go all at once with you?” You could see a smile on his lips.

“Leave me alone.” You whispered again, your heart beating loudly in your ears.

“I bet your boyfriend didn’t even feel bad about it, did he? He probably knew you liked it.” David wouldn’t budge from in front of you. You clenched your jaw tight, “You did like it, didn’t you?” He grabbed your face to look at him, “You’re just a whore, you probably loved it.”

“Hey!” Spencer called for David’s attention.

You gathered saliva in your mouth, and spit at him, “I said, leave me alone.” You growled.

He slapped you, and grabbed your jaw tightly, “Leave her alone!” You heard Spencer struggle against his restraints.

“You told the police, didn’t you?” David started again, his face inches away from yours, “But they didn’t believe you.”

You stare back at his cold eyes, memories coming back to you. The party, the incident, the pain and betrayal.

David let go of your face, and started to unbutton your top, “Stop,” you pleaded, scooting yourself back, only to have him pull you back front by your collar.

He undoes your bottons, ignoring Spencer’s pleas to leave you alone. You sit completely still, looking down in shame. He runs his hands over the top of your breast, tracing a scar.

“Your boyfriend do this? Because you didn’t want his friends to touch you?” His cold touch stung you.

“When I was twelve, in high school, I was tricked by a girl I liked, to strip down in front of the whole school and I was tied to a goal post!” Spencer cried out, getting David’s attention, finally. “When I was ten, my father left my mother and I, and I’ve been caring for her since.” He starts spitting out secrets, in attempt to drive David away from you.

He fails, as David turns back to you, kissing your neck. You turn your head as far away as you can, and feel your bottom lip quiver, “Please,” you tremble, “leave me alone.”

He backs up, looking at you, eye to eye, “Tell Dr. Reid the one secret you were never planning on revealing.” He wise thriving off your pain and fear.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tears were streaming down your face and you weren’t even sure when you started crying.

“Tell him you love him.” He whispered quietly, so Spencer couldn’t hear.

You looked down, crying harder at your exposed chest. You knew exactly where this was going. David was satisfied with breaking you, and now, it was the end for you.

You took a shaky deep breath, “Spencer,” you looked at the broken man before you. He had shed a few tears along with your story, and his bloody nose had dried, “I love you.” You admitted sadly.

His hair was matted down to his sweaty forehead, “Y/n, don’t do this, please.” He shook his head.

“I mean it,” You chuckled softly, “I do love you. I have, for a long time. Even though you don’t believe in love at first sight, I think that’s what it was.” You smiled small. “I loved you when you wore your big nerdy glasses, to when you got your boy band haircut. And, I love you now.”

Spencer looked at you dearly.

David came up behind you, and leaned down to your ear, whispering, now loud enough for Spencer to hear, “Do you love him enough to die for him?”

Spencer’s eyes widened, “No,” he whispered in disbelief.

“Yes,” You answer, looking at nothing but Reid.

“No! No, y/n! Don’t!” Spencer cried out, pulling against his ropes.

“Say it.” David said, pulling his gun back into view.

“Yes,” you breathed, “I love Spencer, and I would die for him.”

“Y/n! No! David, please! Stop!” He cried desperately, pulling at his hands with no prevail. You felt the cold barrel of the gun touch the back of your head. Defeated, you shut your eyes, and felt tears run down your cheeks. Spencer was screaming in the corner, also crying, seeing his best friend about to be executed.

There was a thumping on the freezer door, and with a loud bang, simultaneously, the door flew open, and you felt a sharp pain in your chest. You felt yourself fall, face flat, and rolled onto your back, groaning in agonizing pain.

Looking down, you saw two holes in your abdomen. One right by the scar on your breast, and one to the side of your stomach.

You curled into a ball, hoping to ease the pain, but that was useless. The blood ran everywhere, covering the floor beneath you. The team had all entered the room you were in, and Derek and Emily took away a resistant David, while JJ untied Spencer. He ran towards you the instant he was free.

Falling beside you, he took your head into his lap, “Y/n, oh god, y/n, please.” He wiped the hair away from your face, the blood all on his hands, as well as your face. “Just hang on, the medics are here, Hotch is bringing them in.”

Your hands were still tied behind your back, but you nod to his bloody nose with your eyes, “Sorry,” You cough, “that’s on me.” You chuckle lowly.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he apologized, pulling your shirt, to cover your exposed chest, “I’m so sorry, I should’ve been able to talk him down, I-” he rambles.

“Hey, I’m going to be fine, don’t worry.” You say, your eyes dropping. You feel tired, and even colder than before.

“Damn right,” he nodded, sniffling, “You have to. You can’t just die on me after confessing your love like that.” He half smiled.

You copied his crooked smile, “Yeah, you have to make me your girlfriend after this. I took a bullet for you.” You try laughing, but it comes as a cough making you wince in pain.

The EMT comes in, and Spence and the medic undo your bindings and help you onto the stretcher. They get Spence and you into an ambulance- him insisting on staying with you. They sedate you, in order to see the situation and stitch you accordingly.

As your eyes begin to close, and your breathing slows, Spencer takes your hand in his, as an EMT works on a cut on his cheek, “Hey,” he calls for your attention. You turn your head to him, barely nodding, “I love you too.” You shut your eyes, a smile taking its place on your lips.

Lol wat was that lmao that was different than expected

#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer blurb #spencer request #reid x reader #spencer read x reader #criminal minds imagine #blurb #original

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

The Slutty Webs One Weaves

Title : The Slutty Webs one Weaves

Chapter NO. 6 of 10?

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s Asgardian wife learns women write fanfiction about him on a trip to Midgard. She’s edgy for the duration and lets him have it when they get back.

Author: lokilover9

Rating: M

Brianna's surprise was a bedroom matching the guest room at Tony's and much more. Loki had conjured a two thousand square foot flat into an underground rock formation with sleeping quarters and private ensuites at either end. The main rooms were open concept, all the lighting adjustable to simulate midday or dusk and she followed his gaze to a set of drapes in the dining area.

"I dare speculate what's beyond. Don't you?" He asked.

Another room simulating the outdoors had a domed ceiling painted like the sky, two walls a tropical rainforest and the third a beach scene. Below it was a narrow pool, running the rooms length and to her left, a swing set and exercise apparatus. Brianna ran to him and squealed with delight when he spun her around in his arms. "You did all this for me?"

"With great pleasure."

"It's the best. Our own perfect hideaway, but aren't you exhausted?"

He chuckled. "Had I conjured a palace, perhaps. My magic is very powerful."

She suddenly looked concerned. "Sooo, nobody knows I robbed those houses? I really don't want to go to jail."

"Og Min Lille, no one. You're free now and shall never live imprisoned again." Loki wanted to erase those sad memories, but she was too young. It risked relearning to walk and talk, achievements well established in adults and possibly forgetting vital information that could help locate her 'imprisoners'. "Let's focus on the happier times ahead. I'm hungry are you?" Inside, he opened a suitcase of food taken from Thor's. "Can you believe the God of Thunder eats marshmallows? His face must resemble an oversized zit."

Brianna's giggle was so adorable he wanted to gobble her up. "Do you like pranking him?" She asked.

"Me? The God of Mischief? Nooo."

"Your nose is growing, Pinocchio."

"Who?"

She explained the character, Loki feigned panic, conjured a mirror and made funny faces while checking his reflection at different angles. "It's not a centimeter larger than the last time I looked. Who's the prankster?" They made smores together and Loki's first bite resulted in a glob of marshmallow dangling from his chin.

"It's okay." Said Brianna. "Uncle Cootyoodles wore most of his first time we made them. Pepper too. He was holding one for her taste when a glob fell down her shirt, she smeared some into his hair and what a mess that followed. Tony started chasing her around the island trying to stuff them into her pockets, but Pepper was crafty. She grabbed the partially melted ones and tried smearing more into his hair. When he blocked it, she slid one under his t shirt sleeve and mashed it into his armpit. They'd begun cleaning up when he snuck chocolate sauce from a cupboard and squirted some onto her head."

"Did uncle Cootyoodles get in trouble?"

"No. They chose a third target and boy did she become invisible fast."

Loki laughed.

"Tony's super funny. Did you know he hides boxes of Count Chocula in their apartment?"

"Where?"

"No way, Jose. I plan a return visit. He might not share if you tattle."

Loki suddenly felt trapped in a web of deceit. Telling Brianna that wasn't possible, or of his intention to move her to Asgard permanently risked jeopardizing her trust. Might she become angry enough to vanish at first chance? He could cap her abilities with a spell, but that meant the same and not learning her full capacity. He was damned either way and wondered if all parents shared this dilemma. Making decisions for their child's best interest knowing they'll be resented for them. And what of the biggest? Telling his Daughter she was a Goddess. With time on their side he opted to mull things over.

That evening he gave her a swimming lesson, cut her hair into a bob with bangs, altered his to salt and pepper, conjured brown contacts and together they planned their first adventure. ***** On Asgard, after reading Loki's letter in her private parlor, Frigga had whisked Astrid off to the observatory.

Heimdall saw them coming and stiffened with the Allmother's scowl. 'Odin's toupee, Beelzebub is resurrected.' "Greetings my gracious Queen and my lady. What can I do for you?"

"Find Loki, please?" The Allmother instructed.

"He's left realm?" Astrid replicated her scowl and he gazed into the cosmos. "Right away." 'Before one of you sprout horns.'

The search was taking too long and Frigga caught on why. "Has my son veiled himself?"

"I cannot see him." 'Fuck. How many holes can you dig in one lifespan, Fenrir?'

Astrid looked ready to hyperventilate. "I didn't hide from him down there."

The Gatekeeper did like the Duchess, yet occasionally questioned her sensibility. 'Maybe because you lack such powers?'

The Queen dismissed her nonsense and calculatingly advised. "Worry not. I have a plan."

Heimdall prayed to the Norns it didn't include an inverted pentagram. ***** The next night, Loki and Brianna exited a portal into a dark alley in Paris.

"This way, darling. You're going to love The Ritz."

An inebriated man witnessed the phenomenon from his apartments alley window. "Sacre bleu! No more cheap merde for moi." ***** In New Mexico, Thor was watching How to Train Your Dragon, thinking Toothless would make his Father a great pet. Odin blitzed on ale and the pair swooping down on Asgards Einherjar as he taunts the warriors. 'Catch me if you can, suckers!' Frigga's in pursuit on a skid. 'Land you ancient ripstonker or I'll tan your hairy hide!' He chuckled at the vision, crushed an empty beer can against his forehead and the doorbell rang. "Must be my neighbor Willie with another complaint. Yesterday the stereo's volume, tonight our TV's. Guess I should pity the old bugger, his surname being Stroker. Coming!" He politely shouted. 'Rickety ray of sunshine.' "Evening Mr...Astrid???"

"Hi."

Thor inwardly cringed when she rolled in a suitcase and paused a second to think. Heimdall always delivered him to spots where Loki had hidden vehicles, but Astrid didn't have a license. "How did…" He picked up her luggage when the bell rang again.

"You should answer that."

He did to someone looking less a ray of sunshine than grumpy Mr. Kneads-his-knob. "Mother???" It suddenly clicked why Loki had warned him Astrid might visit. He'd intended to shield himself and Brianna from Heimdall.

"Don't look so shocked. Last summer your Father surprised me with a brief trip to Norway. A beautiful country, but too many nude beaches. While there, he taught me to drive and Seidre granted me a fake license."

"Why didn't you mention it?"

"I had intended to surprise you by coming with Astrid and Loki on their next visit. In light of your mail delivery, I came sooner. Now where's your brother?"

"I don't know and presume he's veiled?"

"You're lying and we know he has a daughter." Said Astrid. "It was in the letter."

She'd never addressed him so crassly and Thor dismissed it to upset. "I'm not and imagine it was, hence your presence. He spelled me to sleep with a tonic I thought ale and upon waking, they were gone. In 'my' letter, Loki apologized for leaving unannounced, didn't explain why and asked I make the delivery."

"Loki apologized to you?" Asked Frigga.

"Yes."

"This I must see to believe. Show me."

"Impossible, Mother. He spelled that too."

"He what?" Asked Astrid.

"It's in the ink." Replied the Allmother. "The paper dissolves within minutes once exposed to oxygen."

The Duchess shook her head. "This is wrong. Loki claims to have had no relationship with a woman he impregnates then runs off with a child they supposedly created without a word to his wife or Mother?"

"She's right, Thor. If your Father and I truly do have a granddaughter, your brother should've said so, brought her to Asgard and introduced us."

"Loki didn't believe me at first, but knew the instant they met. Like myself."

"So he really didn't come for a bondage session with his big brother." Said Astrid. "You lured him here to meet the girl? Who introduced the two of you? Was the Mother blackmailing Loki and that's why they've vanished? How does he know this person and her daughter aren't working together? Any preteen could learn such skills!"

Thor had retrieved her from Heimdall's last drop and en route to see Tony, was subjected to her jealous assumptions regarding the stories. Loki had once mentioned similar behavior during a visit home with Jane, but this was over the top and he responded curtly. "That's bon-ding and could a six year old, Astrid? Enough with your antics."

"Thor Odinson, mind your manners and tell us everything." Demanded Frigga.

He observed the two expectantly glaring at him and pondered being in his brother's shoes. "No."

"And why not young man?"

Astrid spoke again. "Because he's lying, just like I thought."

The God frowned at his sister in law. "No, because I think I understand now why Loki vanished. Did either of you even hear what I just said? Brianna is six..years..old."

"Frigga's tone softened. "Brianna?"

"Yes, Mother, that's your granddaughters name. Which saddens me to say you'd know had you bothered asking."

"Well if you won't help us, I'll bet Tony knows where Loki is. I'll just call him." Said Astrid.

"You will not." Thor sharply reiterated. "I contacted Stark first thing and he knows nothing. The couple are on vacation. Leave them be."

"Son, at least have some compassion for her feelings." Suggested Frigga.

"Why? I haven't heard a shred of it yet for Loki from either of you and suspect he predicted the same. It's no wonder with our consistent lack of empathy towards him. Jane always disliked him yet the more I spoke of our history, her opinion changed. Humbling mine by insisting I see things from Loki's perspective and candidly pointing out Father's favoritism. I regret a lot, but this isn't a self pity rant. He and Brianna need someone on their side and I'm volunteering, so listen. All I'll reveal is she came to me and refused to say from where or how. I found her cowering inside my apartment after a run and willingly obliged her request to meet Loki." He looked directly at Astrid. "Your husband is innocent, knew nothing of her existence until I told him, yet carries guilt for not rescuing her sooner."

"'Rescuing?'" Asked Frigga.

"Brianna's short life hasn't been a happy one." Thor grabbed his keys.

"Where are you going?"

"Anywhere but here. I need to think."

He left and Astrid sobbed. "I've behaved so selfishly and now Loki's facing this alone."

The Allmother squeezed her hand. "I'm just as guilty, darling, but do get your sexual references straight?"

Astrid cried harder.

"There, there. Loki has to come home eventually."

"How..do you think he instantly kn..knew she was his?"

Frigga suddenly straightened. "Hells bells and Bilgesnipe testicles. Could she possess magic?"

Thor hadn't left to think. Distrustful of Astrid, he needed an excuse to do the one thing Loki had asked him not to. Call Stark. "Heyyy, flying human. Have a minute?"

"Nope. Busy drinking tequila out of Pepper's navel. Later."

She smirked when he hung up. "That was rude."

"What? I can't hold my phone, pour belly button shots and slurp all at the same time."

"Put him on speaker." She suggested.

"Stop moving or I'll pin you to the bed with my suit pieces."

"Now he's calling me. "'I'll' put him on speaker."

"A threesome with big guy?" Tony jested. "Can't we choose someone prettier?"

"You want a threesome? I never thought of sharing 'you' with anyone else."

He belched. "That was ugly. Answer the phone, Butch."

"Hi Thor."

"Sorry, Virginia. It's urgent."

Stark had risen from the bed in his boxers and Pepper withheld laughter as he goofily attempted a full monty. "What's up?"

Thor finished explaining and Tony gasped. "Say what? Pepper and I were about to experiment with shock treatments via my tequila laden nipples and you ruined it."

"He's kidding." She interjected.

The God chuckled. "Whatever ruffles your truffle, Virginia. He's taking it better than Loki predicted."

"It's the booze."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here people."

"Astrid's on realm and has thought of calling." Said Thor. "I won't send her your way. This is just a heads up."

Stark scanned his naked self. "Not anymore."

"Tony." Scolded Pepper.

"Sorry, what?"

"I've convinced her you're on vacation and Brianna came to me."

"Thumbs up, uncle lightning wielder. Why Daddy Snowflake lie and run away?"

"I'm not exactly certain, but suspect to avoid family drama over knowledge of Brianna's existence."

"Are they loco en la cabezas? You tell Loki she can come live here. If she turns our apartment into an ice rink, I'm down with that. I'll teach her how to skate."

Thor's respect for Tony was deepening over his unwavering affection for her. "If Loki contacts you, please warn him our Mother's here too?"

Stark shot upright. "Flaming flamingo fishnets! 'Thee' Allmother is on earth???"

"Not for long if I can help it. Astrid as well."

"'Atta boy! Duct tape them together and hurl 'em up the bifrosty."

"My Mother would have me quartered."

"Pooper shnickers. Saran wrap then?"

Thor laughed. "Virginia?"

"We'll play along. If Daddy Snowflake contacts you, tell him we're a phone call away." ***** Thor opted for a local pool hall instead of going home, but Frigga waited up.

"Does Brianna have powers, darling? I'd appreciate knowing."

He headed straight for his bedroom. "Jane comes home in three days. 'I'd' appreciate if you and Astrid returned to Asgard beforehand."

Frigga stood outside his door. "Thor…"

"Cover me in preserves and tie me to an ant hill, Mother. I'm still not talking."

"Sounds like a kinky ritual to enact on your Father."

He opened it enough to stick his head out. "Are you cray cray?"

"Possibly. If you aren't going to talk then come listen?" He begrudgingly obliged and they sat in the living room. "Forgive my rudeness earlier? I've been overcome with shock and bewilderment since Astrid came to me."

"No more so, than Loki."

"I imagine and have a briefened love story to tell you."

"Again?"

Frigga smirked at the hint of disinterest on Thor's face. "Not mine and your Father's, Loki's and Astrids. When your brother was first pardoned, the people were angry. Palace staff addressed him only when necessary and on the streets, there was talk of him being a traitor. He was miserable so your Father and I allowed him back to Midgard if he promised to stay out of trouble. He rarely cracked a smile on visits home and during one, I convince him to attend a ball by threatening to sacrifice a virgin."

Thor's brows rose. "Mother, you didn't."

"Almost. A young handmaiden he coveted. I'm not as innocent as I appear. Loki spent a good part of it alone, brooding in a side parlor. I'd considered suggesting he lose the glare which conveyed to all, 'come any closer and I'll rip off your limbs' when noticing Astrid edging her way around the room, cautiously evading his sight. I later learned she wanted to greet him unexpectedly, so he mightn't be so quick to reject her. Then as she introduced herself and Loki rose as a gentleman should, he smiled wholeheartedly for the first time in over a year. As you do in Janes presence. Soon he began spending more time at home and no matter the ignorance of others, including her Father's disapproval of their courtship, she lovingly stood by your brother. They were walking arm in arm at last year's harvest festival when someone bellowed 'traitors whore!' Astrid said he furiously demanded the coward show themselves. When no one came forth, she announced to all listening. 'Taunt and think of me as you please, but never forget whose presence you're in. Prince Loki of Asgard, son of your King and Queen and I am his proud fiance, Astrid Heskin.' She's made Loki very happy and it shows in every aspect of his personality."

"I'm just as impressed as I am confused." Said Thor. "If the feeling's mutual, why the constant jealousy?"

"It's between them I suppose." Frigga knew why, but withheld it in confidence.

"Sentiment aside, Loki never said where or when he planned to return. I'll have two days with Jane before she's back at S.H.I.E.L.D and I'm doing charity work. Nor can Astrid keep imposing on Mr. Stark when she and Loki have problems. Please take her home?"

"We'll leave tomorrow."

"Thank you. How did Father take the news?"

"He doesn't know and thinks I came to escort Astrid to Loki."

"Weren't we supposed to be bonding?"

"That, he would never believe and have surely gone to Heimdall. We told him Loki was helping you find Jane a new house as a surprise, Astrid missed him and wanted to help too. He waved us onward amidst his newfound kingly pleasure, a pedicure."

"Father gets pedicures?"

"It's not as though they paint his nails slut red. Centuries in leather boots makes for terribly smelly feet."

"Still, that complicates things." Thor explained Loki's conversation about Frost Giants. "My crassness wasn't meant as an insult to his original heritage. After everything Brianna's endured, I merely assumed it information overload for her."

"Darling. Where is the difference in learning she's Jotun or Asgardian?"

"There isn't any. Loki wouldn't reveal all they'd discussed and I'd dreaded he'd informed her Asgardians opinion of Jotuns. That 'we' were taught to fear and hate them."

His words reminded Frigga of her own guilt and shame over lying to her son. "Your Father and I were catastrophically wrong for teaching that. He despised Laufey for senselessly attacking Midgard, but I'm just as guilty for not speaking up."

"His scorn remains, Mother."

"Only because Jotunheim are ruled by a secretive and fluctuating council since Laufey's death and are rumored to be allies with Svartalfheim. They want Nidavellir to join them but the realm will not, claiming fear of animosity from the others and losing their greatest source of income."

"Weapons."

"Yes. Secretly, they are 'our' allies. Through spies, we learn of every weapon they sell and to whom. Should the Jotuns attain this knowledge and see the Dwarves as traitors, your Father dreads an outbreak of war and the senseless demise of millions. The Jotuns tell your Father only enough to appease him and the constant uncertainty has led him to double the size of our Einherjar."

"More you have not told me? Mother, why?"

"You're happy here and in a strategic position as an Avenger. Midgard is safer because of you. Loki knows all of this yet your Father is so edgy, I'm uncertain how he'll react to him being veiled."

"I'm saddened to hear of his duress, yet intend on further mending my relationship with Loki. Wish to join me?"

"Indeed I do."

"Then lie to Father again. Don't tell him Astrid returned and ask her to visit her Mother. Have her agree your back up plan should he question Heimdall sooner is she spoke to Loki, but he'd taken Brianna to Disneyland to bond with her alone. Claim that's why he's veiled and said they'd return 'here' in two weeks. It covers our arses and hopefully buys him time."

"Disneyland?" She queried.

"It's a famous amusement park for children."

"And if Loki doesn't show?"

"We're dungeon bound. Pack a warm sweater."

"Norns. How do I prevent Heimdall from seeing Astrid return?"

Thor groaned. "Snitch about this and I'll never forgive you. Max is sworn to service myself and Loki only or be fed to beasts. He takes bribes, but you can probably intimidate him into staying quiet with one glare."

Frigga jestingly rolled her eyes. "Such hooligans I raised."

"Be grateful to him, Mother. His arse will also be on the line for worse than concealing a mail delivery."

She shrugged. "I'll tell your Father I threatened to confine him to my poisonous spider conservatory."

Thor froze and asked similar question Loki had asked of him. "Are you truly 'our' relative? Asgards warm, kind and Allmotherly Queen?"

"Yes although formidable when required. It's a torture chamber, darling. So our enemies believe. They're artificial replicas of Midgards most deadly with tiny doses of various potions in their fangs. One induces diarrhea, another severe itching, hallucinations and my favorite, temporary paralysis. All with anecdotes, of course and they only attack via my magic. Imagine thousands positioned for battle."

Thor wondered if Frigga had inhaled too many fumes from her potion components and next he'd hear she'd conjured them tiny helmets. "You're right. I am happier here." 'With access to exterminators.'

"Do you think Loki is veiled out of fearing your Father's judgement?"

"Primarily."

The Allmother regretfully sighed. "I'll speak with Astrid in the morning."

She passed him and Thor faced her. "Mother?"

"Yes?"

"Brianna's amazing. Intelligent beyond her years, braver than some Einherjar I've known. You will love her instantaneously and yes, she has powers. The rest is her Father's privilege to disclose."

Frigga's smile conveyed gratitude. "Thank you, son. Goodnight." Astrid slept like a log and with magic, she carefully removed her wedding ring, entered the ensuite, made a replica of it for herself and began whispering. "Loki, darling..." ***** Astrid's ring was on, but Loki wasn't tuned into its frequency, didn't hear his Mother's message, nor of a link to the spell that accessed hers. He was too overwhelmed to endure his families negative rantings. As Brianna slumbered in luxury, he read more of her Mother's diary and lurched forward, seething upon discovering an adversary. 'You?'

Loki added the name to his shit list of most wanted. 'Consider yourself marked, fucker.'

#Loki #others #submission #Submitted fic #chapter 6 #lokilover9 #The Slutty Webs one Weaves

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incarnateirony · 5 years

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So anyway, life updates on what I’ve talked about good, bad, and vagueblog.

But I introduce you to Betty White, or the Millennium Falcon, name pending.

Most of yall know that I’m on disability, dealing with some massively janky medical issues that Alabama’s bottom-ranked health care system doesn’t even know how to cover, and my wifey blew a disc in her neck at work, essentially debilitating her, too, but also earning a small settlement. In scale of it, 25K -- 21 after lawyer fees -- isn’t really much to do anything with.

So we had already known we had to fix up and sell the house and thought, hey, the land value went up substantially out here, we can pocket and flip it and be hella good.

Until her father finally came out here and in long story short, found out that the inspector that ran through this house when my wife first bought it (during our breakup period YEARS ago) didn’t do his job and it’d be 20-30K worth of repairs to even sell this place at the value her loan is for, meaning we pretty much have to short sell it to get out from under it. I mean bad shit. Fire hazard wiring and rotting roof and siding element under shiny things that hid it that have clearly been deteriorating since long before the house got a lipstick job.

So we went and found an RV, because it’s time to go. We have to GO. We have to get out of this state. There’s nothing for us here. There’s no medical care, there’s no worker protections, being LGBT women we’re extra up a creek in the area, it’s just bad. So RV it was! But finding one in the now suddenly cramped budget with the house turning up bunk entirely was FUN.

But like a stroke of providence I happened to find a listing the day it was upgraded on what has been jokingly referred to by my friends as the Millennium Falcon of RVs.

It came from an older couple, almost 60, that had been RVing for a few years, and the thing was already used when they bought it. It’s a friggin 1994. It’s old, it’s Chonk. But it was a project RV they decided to start on and while it has a solid AF 454 engine in it,

they’ve over a few years put in just about New Everything. New transmission, new air brakes, new air bags, new radiator, new septic lines, new alternator, new battery, new steering and suspension, new new new new new. Modified backup camera that tracks engine temp/tire pressure/etc like modern dashes and stays on constantly instead of just when backing up. It has its little hijinks with the in-n-out stairs being funky and the generator is a funny little bit because they didn’t want to spend 8K+ on a generator for an old RV so they got one that’s an external mount, which I imagine is why it was having a hard time selling.

Atop that inside the wife went bananas and got rid of the shitty old wallpaper and painted it bright colors different on every wall, removed the space consuming fold out couch since they didn’t need an extra bed and installed an armoire-storage-couch-thing that takes up half the outter floor space, stuff like that.

This was their baby and they intended to keep this baby and did great work on this baby, and the second I saw it in the advert, I knew it, because the images weren’t all spit cleaned sales stuff, it was vacation images with their shit still hanging inside it and their party lawn with their sports teams and stuff and the shiny lights they added on it to make it a party bus like

So anyway it turned out they basically got conned into getting a newer shinier one and just wanted to get the fuck OUT of Alabama but because of the generator and age it wasn’t selling at market value which was about 15K even as old as it is, and had price gouged it down to *8500*

Thought it was too good to be true, got our old construction and mechanic friend go out out there and go over it with a fine toothed comb and this thing, as he put it “goddamn if I had the money, I’d buy it myself, what the hell, you ain’t gonna get anything better for that price, hell, you ain’t gonna get anything as good for the price” THEY JUST WANTED TO GET OUT OF ALABAMA. And I mean, MOOD, BIG MOOD.

In fact the money they were asking for was basically to pay off loans and costs on all the New Stuff they put into it to begin with.

Because of them basically gouging their asking price in half an old lady had come to see it same day and at first the husband was like WHOEVER GETS US THE MONEY FIRST but talking to us the wife was like HELL NO THAT OLD LADY COULD BARELY GET IN THE THING SHES JUST GONNA DRIVE IT DOWN TO FLORIDA AND LET IT ROT THIS IS OUR BABY THESE GIRLS NEED TO TAKE CARE OF IT AND THEY WILL and she ran interference through the weekend until our mechanic friend could go check it out.

You might ask “if you have a buttload of money why an RV” but in trying to get out of Alabama and all the way back to Oregon where I literally KNOW I can make it work out in life for us, for reasons that are a whole story unto themselves, the moving costs cross country alone for a uhaul would be expensive AF. Downpayments. Finding pet friendly apartments. And then whether it was portland or somewhere else we could get STUCK. And we’re tired of getting stuck. So we’re packing up our own FUCKING house that we FUCKING own outright that fucking NOBODY can take away from us and with NO payment obligations and FUCK THE SYSTEM.

So anyway this big fuckin honker the wife was like WHY ARE YOU SO COMFORTABLE DRIVING THIS to Shea, but Shea worked for both Uhaul and Hertz so like hauling bigassed trucks around was kinda her thing and she also worked horses so giant ass horse trailers, you name it. So she just got up in there like she belonged and next thing you know we’re doing 65 down the bendy ass mountain freeways of central alabama like we been doing it for years

PS when you are in a literal fucking house 65 feels like 90, I’m just letting you know that now.

We’re still at our house cuz we gotta get this properly under our own tag/insurance and get a tow for the car. It was funny though cuz experienced or not knowing it was OUR LITERAL HOUSE Shea started like GOTTA BE CAREFUL GOTTA BE CAUTIOUS GOTTA MAKE SURE NOBODY DUMB and it turned into GET OUT THE WAY FUCKERS I’LL WIN within the 120 mile haul back home. Like BITCH I’LL TAKE MY FOOT OFF THE GAS BUT I AINT GONNA TRY TO JACK RABBIT STOP THIS FUCKER SO YOU BETTER GET SOME GIDDYUP IF YOU GONNA MERGE YOU FRIGGIN HONDA

This beast only has 65K miles on it. And that sounds like a lot but for an RV that isnt S H I T. People are like, if you can find a used one under 100K you’re doing okay. Half of those miles are just taking it out for a jog because you’re supposed to drive it once every couple weeks to keep it from rusting out basically. They just safely drove it in like a tristateish area down here for a few years as you can see on the cabinet stickers and moved around to sports games and shit and had fun.

The bedroom is purple. The kitchen is blue and yellow. KJSDKJFSjk she was like “Fuck the 1990 floral wallpaper we updating, there’s extra paint in one of the storage bins if you wanna touch any of it up”

So that’s it. We’re gonna do some work with said mechanic friend on the AC and a few tweaky details and as said, gotta tag/insurance/tow but once we get that worked out, that’s it, that’s home starting in a few weeks.

We’re heading to Independence, Missouri first to touch base with my internet momma then swinging in Salt Lake City to meet old media friends like the folks at Arrowstorm and stopping to enjoy their stuff at Evermore Park before hitting Portland which, reasonably, I’ll guestimate we’ll be at like a week or two before Halloween but maybe we’ll make better time. If you’re en route to those destinations and wanna meet up, lemme know, we’re still gonna have fun on the way and try to record shit.

Portland is the city I know how to work to and from the bone. I can turn any quarter into at least a dollar there, quite literally; I know how to eat eight times a day for free if need be. I reasonably think we can stay WELLLLLLLL above the line of needing that kind of assistance but because Shea is very anxiety driven to know we outright have a promised home and have promised food if worst case scenarios happen really made her go, you know what, fuck it, sure, Portland, you loved Portland, the wages are good in Portland, let’s do Portland.

If we start with dry camping at locations with free plug ups even still paying for Shea’s car and insurance, once major gas costs GETTING there are done, we’ll be running about 500 a month, and again, that’s including insurance for both vehicles and paying off her car note. Depending on the lot we land at, 700-900 a month. I can float that on my casual residual income. Everything after that is profit. Everything after that is success. I refuse to let Shea be anything less than Okay, but most of all, weird and nonconformative as it is, everything after this is scales of success. Hell minus the car note we’d be under 600/mo on the pricy end. We got dis.

No more of my wife being convinced she needs to performatively pull loans on her livelihood and shelter for the illusion of a 3/2 middle class life with a picket fence and a job she hates in a place she hates that she doesn’t know how to get away from. Hell, if she ends up hating Oregon? WE CAN PICK UP OUR HOUSE AND MOVE.

QUEER CULTURE IS HAVING THE MILLENNIUM FALCON OF RVS RAINBOW PAINTED INTERNALLY TO HAUL ASS TO PORTLAND OREGON AND AINT SHIT YOU CAN DO TO STOP US, FUCKERS.

It’s literally parked in our yard right now awaiting our voyage.

You bet your ass we’re getting an aux cord and blaring classic rock on surround sound the whole goddamn way

Also gonna get a CB radio to roll with some of the better trucker herds out there. Trust me, solid investment for a multitude of reasons. And entertaining.

If you don’t know what Smokie In The Woods is on a CB radio, you don’t know the road.

It also comes with a lot of gadgets you usually have to buy, like converters for USB chargers in older vehicles and the cable antenna and an extra tent and hell they left two bikes on it like YALL WANT EM YOU CAN HAVE EM, SURE

So buying the RV, paying the friend for the loss of a work day, the necessary gas to get out there, and the tow all in all is gonna run us about 12,000 bucks total, which isn’t a bad deal for bringing your own house with you.

We already burned a few thousand of our settlement trying to fix this house before the bad news and/or upkeeping bills but now it’s time to burn it and walk. By the time we roll I’m expecting us to have about 4K over costs in the bank, which is... enough. It’s more of a nest egg than we’d have if we stayed here that’s for sure, covers emergencies on the way there and gives us a few months to get our shit together. Even the part-iest part time job out in Portland will float any overhead on bills much less if shea can fall in with all the media and digital work out there with her graphic design and art, we’re eyeing the portland saturday market to sell her stuff at in season too. SCREW THE SYSTEM YALL

#not spn #me #the road so far

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flimflamfandom · 5 years

Text

November Gales

Remember how I said Lorena has a brother? What ever happens to him?

this

Words: 1635 Summary: Does anyone know where the love of god goes, when the waves turn minutes to hours? yes that’s a Gordon Lightfoot quote shut up. The story follows Clark Stevenson in his final hours. Warnings: Graphic depictions of death by drowning, as well as freezing

They were behemoths. Bigger than any ship on the American or Canadian side of the lakes. Operated by the Interlake Steamship Company, and owned by Sable Construction materials, Inc., they stood 650 feet long each, with modern communication equipment, and by 1939, they each had radiotelephones with trained operators.

They were the S.S. Sedgewick Sable, the S.S. Mitzi May, and the S.S. Edmund Church, base out of Whitefish Bay. Each crewed by 30 men, each carrying up to 24,000 tons of cargo. They carried Iron and Limestone, to mills in Detroit and Wisconsin. They were the lifeblood of the lakes. The men who worked them respected and feared the lakes.

The lakes did not always respect them. It was very early on the morning of November 1st, 1941. Clark Stevenson, navigator, was taking his early watch aboard the S.S. Mitzi May. They’d headed to Detroit that Morning, and were up bound through the Soo, and had just made it into Superior. It was cold. Clark pulled his thick trenchcoat over himself, looking out on the dull morning. It was 6:02, according to his watch. He huffed and rubbed his hands quickly. He felt...wind. Harsh wind. Faster wind than ever before.

Could this be a gale, he thought? Surely not. Gales happened to other sailors, not him. Not his crew.

At least, not deadly ones.

His watch was over at 8 O’clock. The wind was still howling. He went to the captain, John Carr.

“Nothing to report, sir. Clear.”

“...what do you think of the weather, boy?” The captain asked.

“It’s...dark out there, sir. Clouds are, at least. Windy, too.”

“Aye...you can hear it from in here.” The Pilot house was dim, and only a few people happened to be in at the moment. Carr looked out with a pair of binoculars. “...goddammit.”

“What is it, sir?”

“We’re in for a big one.” He looked at the map hastily, and voices from all over the Pilot house came out of almost nowhere. It was a chaotic scene.

“We ought to head for Whitefish, that’s our best bet.”

“And what, delay the order? If we budge through we can make it to the mine on time!”

“I want to get there but I want to get there alive, bud.”

“With All Due Respect, third mate Johnson, time is of the essence! Sedgewick Sable just made its run with HOURS to spare!” Clark chimed in.

“You know...I think we should lay up until it passes. They’d rather have the cargo late than never at all.” John Carr looked over.

“The boy’s right...how far until Whitefish?”

“We just passed Whitefish Light at 6, I’d wager we’re two hours away with the wind at our backs.”

“We haven’t got two hours!” The third mate said.

“We’ll have to try for it.”

Clark had survived many storms in his life. It was his 9th year on the boats, he’d been at it since 20. He went back outside to see a man with a similar thick coat. “Collin!” He shouted.

Collin was 19. It was nearing the end of his first season on the boats. He huffed and rubbed his arms. “...it’s getting hairy out here, eh.”

“Yeah. We’re turning back to Whitefish.”

“Are we now?” The ship started to turn, and then...the downpour. Freezing rain, pellets of ice, hitting the deck and digging into the crew who were unlucky enough to be in it.

“Close the Hatches! Make sure they’re closed!” Clark shouted. Collin and 6 others rushed to the deck. The rain was painfully audible from the inside of the vessel. The men managed, somehow, to tighten all the hatch doors in record time. Collin hurriedly changed his clothes for dry ones. Wet clothes in the cold could be dangerous. He sighed and sat in his cabin, waiting for further word from the Captain. He let the time pass, trying to nap. He couldn’t.

The waves were getting heavier with the gales now, and Clark could barely stand up from his position in the pilot house. “What the hell is happening!?”

“Feel it outside,” The first mate barked, “It’s impossible to stand! Winds must be 70 knots!”

Gale speed.

Collin tried to get up from his bed and put his hand on the wall to support himself. He saw other crew men walking towards the galley. They all walked slowly and carefully to it as the ship pitched upward and downward. The galley was surprisingly open. The cook came out to them.

“Boys, this is all I can feed you today until the weather subsides!” He had to shout, as the din of rain was unbearable. It was hail now. The men all solemnly ate. Some had been through many storms, but some, like Clark, were new to the gales of November, the harshest winds on the lakes.

An hour passed, and they were back at the light. Barely visible through the rain.

“We can make it if we hug the shore!” Clark said. He looked at the map. “If we just keep close.” A wave dropped them, and hard. Clark fell to the ground. When he got up, he looked over. “...First mate Raleigh, you’re in charge.” The third and second mates brought the captain, bleeding from his head, down to the little infirmary the ship had. Another wave hoisted the May up.

“Brace! HOLD SOMETHING!”

Collin tried to fight his way up to the pilot house, to ask for some sort of weather report, or location. He felt the ship go up, and held on for dear life.

A lurching sound. A sickening, awful, horrible lurching sound.

Then...for a moment, silence. The lights dimmed. Then they were gone.

And Collin heard the sound of water running. He bolted up to the pilot house. “Capt-...first mate!” He looked around.

“What is it, boy!? Speak up!”

“We...we broke deep!”

“...beg pardon?”

“I heard water coming in!” He said. The first mate followed him downstairs, and they saw...a sickening sight.

“Collin!” An engineer hugged him tightly. “...Jonah got sucked into the split.” The water was up to their ankles now. It was coming in quick.

“How in god’s name…” The wave must have picked them up, let another sneak under, and then lift it high enough so the steel could bend.

All that needed to happen next was a tough let down.

“Weather’s too rough for lifeboats!” The crew Scrambled to do anything. Some ran up to the deck to try and find something to float on, or to grab a ring. Some just...waited. Clark waited in the pilot house. He’d lived a good life here on the lakes. He’d had a good 29 years...he’d even met Rocky Rickaby in person. Matter of fact, he was his brother in law. A man with that title can’t have so bad a life, can he?

Collin was younger, and looking for a way off. He knew the lifeboat would be basically useless...too rough for freighters, too rough for lifeboats. But he had to try. He got in and got a few more members of the crew on board. “Come on! We’ve still got time!”

But time wasn’t the only thing they had to worry about, as the boat itself struggled in the water. Collin looked back, the wind and rain pelting him like icy, cold bullets. “...there she goes.” He said. First mate Raleigh looked at him and nodded.

“Indeed.”

“WAVE!” Someone shouted and pointed, and the whole boat moved to try and brace. “BRACE!” Collin shouted, tears in his eyes. He wanted to be at home. He wanted to be back in Petoskey, where his mother made fudge and his father played ball with him. He didn’t want to die on the water.

He felt the boat break in two.

Somewhere, hundreds of miles away, Sedgewick Sable was entertaining guests. Rocky and his wife, Lorena.

“And then we’ll say something like ‘if he’s really that young, how come he’s going to a VFW meeting next week?’ And lorena’ll ask if it’s from the first world war, and we’ll say ‘No, Cuba!’” Wick laughed, and Lorena smiled.

“That one was my idea, Wicky.” She winked. “I figured you’d like it.”

“I do!” A maid suddenly walked in with a telephone. “Phone for you, Mister Sable.”

“Hmm? Alright.” He picked up. “Sedgewick Sable.”

“Sable? It’s Stephen, your ISC representative.”

“Stephen! What’s the news? Heard there was a pretty rough storm on your end.”

“Yes...it’s bad news.” Wick braced himself.

“Do be quick, I, uhm...I have company.”

“Of course.” Stephen said. He continued, “Unfortunately the S.S. Mitzi May went down en route to Duluth.”

“...beg pardon? You said it went down?” Wick had no idea storms up there got so bad. Before the 1930s, he had no idea ships that big were even operating. “How many lived? They all lived right?”

“One survivor, Collin Hampton.” Stephen glumly replied.

“I see...alright, well...I’ll come up to see him when I can.” He said. “Alright, yes...the delay is fine. It was insured, yes. Okay. Goodbye.” He hung up.

“What’s the damage, Wicky?” Rocky looked up. Rocky held Lorena’s hand.

“It’s...the May.” he said. “It’s gone.”

“Gone?” Lorena asked. “With...all hands, or-”

“Everyone but a boy named Collin. They must’ve scooped him up last minute.”

“My brother was on the May.” Lorena said. “...maybe they just got him mixed up, I…”

“Lorena, I’m so sorry it had to be here that you heard it.” Sable put a hand on her shoulder. Lorena just pinched the bridge of her nose, and let a few tears fall, before hugging Rocky.

“...the lakes can be cruel, Wick. It’s something you can’t always prepare for.”

#Lackadaisy #FlimFlamuniverse #lake freighters

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loveandcigarillos · 6 years

Text

It’s Tricky.

Erik x Black!Reader

A/N: Another adventure with Erik and Peanut. Maybe this should become a thing. This one was inspired/requested by @untouched-rose. I hope you enjoy it.

Warnings: None. Explicit language and a mention of nudity just in case though.

“Guap, Guap get some chicken! Guap, guap get some bread!” You rapped along with Cardi B.

You were attempting to wipe down the kitchen counter on a warm Saturday morning but, that quickly turned into you placing the palms of your hands against the counter top and twerking your ass in quick circles to the Project Pat sample from Cardi B’s debut album. “Aye! Pop that pussy like poppin’ pussy is going outta style! Yes, Cardi!”

“This what you doing while I’m in here slaving over your laundry?” Erik asked loudly over the music. You were too enthralled in the lyrics to hear his question but that quickly changed when the rest of the verse halted abruptly.

“Excuse me? That was the best part!”

“You don’t need to be poppin’ shit. Wipe them counters and simmer down.”

You responded with a disgruntled grumble before returning to your original task. He scoffed at your childishness while disconnecting your phone from the soundbar and connecting his. He’d normally let you be in charge of the cleaning playlist but he’d been listening to Invasion of Privacy longer than he was comfortable with.

Gucci Mane’s ‘Both Eyes Closed’ replaced the brief silence causing you to roll your eyes. How many times could a person listen to one song was all that crossed your mind as your traded the damp dish cloth for a broom.

“Woooow! I finally convince you to move to Atlanta and now that’s all you can listen to.” You said watching him dance around you en route to dropping the laundry basket by the bedroom door.

He donned his gold rimmed glasses and an old MIT t-shirt that horribly clashed with his baby blue University of North Carolina shorts. Sure, it was a lazy day but this outfit was absolutely terrible.

Erik caught you giving him a once over with your face scrunched and turned the song down to address you.

“I know you ain’t talking shit, Peanut. That sweatshirt is raggedy as hell. You didn’t even go to Duke so, you really set trippin’.”

“Oh I’m set trippin’?” You laughed, putting the broom against the wall and making a move to stand toe to toe with him. “Tell me when you were enrolled at UNC. Or are you mad because your team is ass and got bounced from the tourney early as hell?”

“Oh so we going there!”

“Yeah, that’s where we going!” It took all of your strength not to burst out laughing at the petty argument but a goofy smile still made its way across your face. Erik’s own smile served as a mirror to your expression, the gold caps on his canines glinting in the Georgia sun.

“How about this? I challenge your loud ass to a dance off. First one to run out of moves loses and winner chooses the punishment. Bet?” He extended his arm expecting you to shake his hand and agree to the terms of the deal. You looked his hand for a second and then back at him with a confident smile.

“Run it.”

Furniture was pushed to the outer walls to give both of you ample room to move around. This wasn’t the first time a dance battle had broken out in your living room but, it was the first one that would end with a winner and loser.

As always, shuffle decided the battle song and you silently prayed that it was one that would put you at an easy advantage. Erik had moves but there was no way he could keep dancing through a Trina song. Carefully eyeing you, Erik pressed the button to skip to next song before moving back to his side of the room and waiting for the battle to begin.

The air was thick with anticipation as both of your eyes were glued to the phone waiting for whatever would spill out of the speaker next.

“This speech is my recital. I think it’s very vital...”

Your squeal clashed with Erik’s groan once you realized that the shuffle goddess had blessed you with ‘It’s Tricky’ as today’s battle song. A previous best of three rock, paper, scissors match determined that you would go first.

You quickly made your way to the center of the makeshift dance floor and started the competition with an excited cabbage patch, effectively stealing your boyfriend’s signature move. You came to win and taking it easy on him wasn’t going to happen today.

Finishing up, you pointed to the floor to let him know it was his turn. He rolled his eyes at your antics, choosing to counter your cabbage patch with his own running man, capping it off with a spin and point to the center of the floor.

“I see you, baby. Okay!” You complimented, genuinely amazed at his ability to switch it up on the fly.

You made the decision to see his running man and raise him a Roger Rabbit, intensely staring into his eyes as you executed the move. He gave you an impressed nod, walking around in a circle to gear up for a fluid top rock that perfectly fit into the beat. He was playing dirty!

You pulled out a robot, he attacked with some tutting and that was returned with a tootsie roll. The battle went back and forth until both of you were literally running out of moves. The end of the song was near and neither of you had considered what would happen if the song ended with no clear winner.

Obviously winded, you claimed your spot in the middle of the floor and executed a flawless Robo Cop, effortlessly jerking your shoulders and arms from side to side. You knew you had him beat when he scratched the back of his head to take a moment to think.

“Just give up, boo. I promise you’ll like your punishment.”

Erik, unphased by your cockiness, stepped to the middle of the floor and eyed you. A sly smile covered his face as he lowered himself onto the floor, laying flat on his stomach with his arms out in front of him.

“Nigga, what are you-” You question was cut short when Erik, with all six feet of his muscle ridden body, began doing The Worm.

Your hands flew to your mouth to stifle your surprised laughter. When his off-beat flopping finally ended, you were double over with tears clouding your vision. Erik pushed himself off the floor wearing a confident smile knowing he had finally outsmarted you.

“Laugh all you want but, yo’ ass just took a mean L.” He said dusting his shirt off and sitting on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter.

Normally you’d be pissed about losing but today it was worth it. This was the perfect thing to store in your mental Rolodex of embarrassing moments to pull out in public group outings with your friends.

Once you finally calmed down, you made your way over to him, stopping to position yourself between in legs and wrap your arms around his neck. “You won fair and square, E. What’s my punishment?”

You expected one of his usual “punishments” that always involved you doing something in the nude. Vacuuming in just a of pair heels, cooking in just an apron, literally just walking around the house naked for a day. The amount of naked activities he could come up with was honestly astounding.

His innocent smile and chaste kiss on your lips assured you that whatever the punishment was would be something you both would enjoy. Grabbing your waist, he gave your forehead a kiss and your sides a gentle squeeze before moving you to the side so that he could stand up.

“Clean the rest of the house by yourself, baby girl. Get to scrubbing.”

He couldn’t stop himself from laughing at your confused expression on the way to the bedroom. Just when you thought he had calmed down, he turned around to get another look at you, rekindling his hysterical laughter as the door closed behind him.

Rolling your eyes you took a look at what was left to do. A mountain of dishes and the sound of Erik switching on the television on the other side of the bedroom door taunted you

“Asshole.”

#michael b jordan #Erik Killmonger #michael b jordan imagine #erik x reader #black panther imagine #erik killmonger imagine

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quicksilversquared · 6 years

Text

Plagg and the Butterfly Costume Outtakes: Ch. 10

Aftermath

Plagg is willing to do a lot in order to get more cheese. When he’s spotted one too many times en route to the kitchen, he decides that a disguise is in order. One purple costume later, and Plagg is free to flit down to the kitchen without people thinking that he’s a rat.

And then he gets caught.

(1) (2) (3) (OT:1) (4) (5) (6) (OT: 2) (7) (OT: 3) (OT: 4) (OT: 5) (8) (OT: 6) (OT: 7) ( 9 ) (OT:8) (10) (OT: 9 )

(AO3) (FF.net)

Nino and Alya hurried along the sidewalk towards the Dupain-Cheng bakery early Sunday morning. As they crossed the street, Nino checked his phone again and frowned.

Adrien hadn't answered any of his messages yet. Nino had texted him the second that he had heard that Adrien's father had been arrested the previous day, and then had texted several times since, but he had gotten nothing. In fact, according to his phone, his texts hadn't even been read yet.

Surely Adrien's phone hadn't been confiscated by the police when they were collecting evidence for whatever had gotten Mr. Agreste arrested? Nino knew that his best bro wouldn't have gotten himself involved in anything illegal on purpose. Maybe Adrien had just turned his phone off and hadn't wanted to talk to anyone, but surely he knew that they would be concerned about him.

"Anything from Adrien yet?" Alya asked over her shoulder as they hurried down another block.

"Nothing."

"Marinette hasn't responded yet, either," Alya said, glancing at her phone and narrowly avoiding walking straight into a lamppost. "She's probably still asleep. Ugh, of all the days for her to sleep in!"

"How serious do you think the charges against Mr. Agreste are?" Nino asked instead of pointing out that Marinette slept in every day that she could. He checked his phone again and refreshed the news page had had pulled up earlier with the news about Mr. Agreste getting arrested. It hadn't been updated at all yet, just a short blurb with the banner Developing Story, just like it had been since the previous afternoon. "Like, I always thought that the dude was an ass but too much of a stick in the mud to actually break the law. The most I can see him doing is maybe a little tax evasion, but would that really require arrest? I would think that there would just be, like, a court summons or something."

Alya just shrugged. "I don't know. We'll have to ask Adrien. Hopefully he'll know something. He might not, though. He might be just as in the dark as we are."

"Surely the police would tell him something," Nino objected. "He'd have to know how long his father is going to be in jail." He couldn't imagine that the police would keep something like that from Adrien. It would make his friend super-worried, and Adrien had already been off in school for the past few days, and just slightly distracted for a few weeks, though he had done his best to hide it. It wouldn't be long before Adrien's distracted behavior started affecting his grades for good.

Wait...was it possible that Adrien had suspected something was going on with his father before, and that was why he had been off before? That would have stunk, having to deal with that all on his own.

Even worse- what if Adrien had been the one to call the police on his father? Would he have even done that?

"If Marinette is still sleeping, shouldn't we just go to Adrien's house first?" Nino asked anxiously when another worried glance at his phone revealed that his messages still hadn't been read. "I don't want Adrien to think that we've abandoned him just because his dad did something shitty. We should get over to his house right away."

Alya shook her head stubbornly. "It doesn't take that long to wake Marinette up, and she'll want to be there. Besides, maybe we can get something from the bakery to bring to Adrien."

Nino grinned. "Yeah! Some croissants or pain au chocolate for my bro! He loves that stuff. Okay, but we have to hurry. I don't care if we have to drag Marinette out in her pajamas."

Alya laughed, but then stopped and scrambled for her phone as it let out a ding. She pulled it out to look at the message, and her face dropped for a moment. "Oh. Rose, not Mari- Oh! Oh, gosh!" Her eyes went wide and suddenly she shoved the phone into Nino's face. "Oh my god, Nino! Look!"

Prying the phone away from his face so he could actually see it, Nino read the message. "New Miraculous users spotted? Cool!"

"Read the rest," Alya urged.

"Near Adrien's house yesterday around the same time the police were there," Nino finished. "...uh, that is weird. And a little less cool. Do you... do you think that's related somehow?" He couldn't imagine how, really. What would the superheroes want with Mr. Agreste? "Maybe they just saw the ruckus and decided to stick their heads in to investigate."

Alya was frowning. "I'm not so sure about that. If it were just Ladybug and Chat Noir, then sure. They might be familiar enough with Adrien because of the attacks on our school to want to check in on him. But why would there be new ones joining them for that, especially when it was only the two of them for the fight right before that?" Another ding, and Alya checked her phone. "Okay, correction- one new user. Apparently it looked like a turtle and absolutely dwarfed Ladybug and Chat Noir. But my point still stands."

Nino just shrugged. Guessing was honestly probably pretty pointless. Hopefully they would be able to go to the mansion soon and would be able to hear from Adrien himself what had happened. He hoped that they would be able to get through any reporters outside the Agreste mansion, that Nathalie would actually be willing to let them in, and that Adrien would be up to seeing them, even if it was only for a little while.

"Good morning, you two," Sabine greeted them cheerily as soon as they stepped into the bakery. "You're certainly up bright and early. I don't think I've ever seen Marinette up at this time during weekends."

"She never is," Alya agreed cheerfully, hugging her. "Can we go up?"

Something like worry flickered over Sabine's face, and Nino frowned slightly. "Well... I suppose you can go up, but if they're asleep, don't wake them up, okay? The poor dear had a rough evening."

"We won't," Alya assured her, heading back past the counter. Then she paused. "Um..."

"There's a plate of croissants upstairs," Sabine told her. "Let me know if you run out."

"Okay!"

"Are you sure we shouldn't just go over to Adrien's place right away?" Nino asked as Alya charged ahead up the stairs. "Mrs. Cheng said that Marinette had a rough evening- if she's sick or something..."

Alya turned to give him a doubtful look. "She still wouldn't want to miss this, sick or no. She's run on barely any sleep before."

"That's no fun if you're sick, though."

"Then I won't barge in yelling. If she looks really sick, I'll leave her be and we'll just make off with a few croissants." Alya led the way into the living room/kitchen section of the apartment. "You coming?"

Nino considered it. Normally, he would say no right away- walking in on his sleeping friend could be creepy if she hadn't said that she would be okay with it- but he wanted to make sure that Alya didn't wake Marinette up if she looked ill. He knew his girlfriend sometimes acted without thinking things all the way through, and Alya might let her worry about Adrien blind her to how sick Marinette was. "Okay, I guess."

Grinning, Alya led the way up to Marinette's room. Nino followed, making sure to close the trapdoor quietly behind him. Alya didn't even pause before heading up the stairs to the loft, with Nino trailing warily behind.

Maybe he should have just trusted Alya and stayed downstairs. This just felt like an invasion of Marinette's privacy.

"Oh my god."

Frowning, Nino glanced up at Alya. She looked absolutely thrilled about something. "What?"

"Come up here!" Alya hissed in the same tone of voice. She beckoned frantically. "C'mon, quickly!"

Curious, Nino headed up. He glanced down at the bed, expecting to see Marinette and a mountain of tissues and maybe some cough drop wrappers...and instead saw Marinette with Adrien snuggled up to her side, his face pressed into her shoulder and her fingers tangled in his hair.

Oh.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing we didn't go to Adrien's house," Nino managed as Alya snapped a few pictures with her phone, a wide grin on her face. "And- do you think Sabine knows that he's here? Or do you think Marinette smuggled him up and then pretended that she was sick so they wouldn't disturb her?"

"Oh, Tom and Sabine probably know," Alya told him. "If they thought Marinette was sick, they would come up to check on her, not leave her alone. I bet that Adrien was over here visiting Marinette when his father was arrested, and – oh! It was probably Adrien who had a rough evening last night, and, uh- now that I think about it, we should go back downstairs and let them sleep. We'll interrogate them when they come down."

Nino nodded and led the way downstairs. Alya closed the trapdoor behind her, trotted down the stairs, and then let out a long squeal of glee. Nino clapped his hands over his ears.

"They were so cute!" Alya squealed, grabbing Nino's arms. "So cute! Do you think they're dating? I knew something was up when they started hanging out together so much!"

"Adrien's father was just arrested, Alya," Nino reminded her. "Now isn't exactly the time to go asking them about that. Not directly, at least," he added when Alya's expression dropped. "And not right away, either. There'll be time for that later."

Alya made a face, though there was still a distinct air of glee around her. "Oh, I suppose."

They settled on the couch, each snagging a warm croissant from the covered plate on the counter. Alya's attention switched back and forth between the stairs to Marinette's room and her own phone. Her fingers flew as she tried to learn more about the superhero sighting at the Agreste mansion.

"They were there for nearly ten minutes," Alya reported. "And the police arrived just before them, but didn't go in right away." She frowned as she scanned the post. "And then Chat Noir escorted them in. That's weird."

Nino frowned. A possibility was nagging at his in the back of his mind as the clues started to fall into the place, and it wasn't pretty. If it was true...

Nino didn't want to think about it too much. There was no point in jumping to conclusions.

"People weren't kidding when they said that they said that this Turtle dude was huge," Alya commented a few minutes later. She held her phone out. "Look at him! He's an absolute giant. He'll probably be able to just plow down akuma if he joins Ladybug and Chat Noir for future akuma fights, and then just sit on the akuma until Ladybug can purify the butterfly. They won't stand a chance."

Unless there weren't going to be any more akuma attacks, in which case... well, maybe the Turtle could sit on robbers and muggers or something.

Fifteen minutes and several consumed croissants later, Mr. Dupain popped into the room with a covered basket of baked treats. He smiled at the two of them as he plopped the basket down on the counter.

Nino could smell chocolate. He craned his neck, interested. He had an inkling that he would be investigating that basket as soon as Mr. Dupain headed back downstairs.

"Reading about something interesting there, Alya?" Mr. Dupain asked, peering over their shoulders. Alya grinned and nodded.

"Yeah! The superheroes were spotted out and about yesterday half an hour after the akuma attack was over, and there was a new superhero with them!" Alya told him excitedly. She waved her phone at him, but thankfully didn't shove it in Mr. Dupain's face. "And they were spotted at Adrien's place, too!"

For a moment, Nino could have sworn that he saw a flash of something- worry, maybe?- flick through Tom's eyes. But then the moment was gone and Mr. Dupain was smiling down at them again. "Oh, that's interesting. Are there, ah- are there a lot of pictures?"

Alya shook her head. "No, most people apparently hadn't paid a whole lot of attention until after Mr. Agreste was brought out by the police, and by that point the superheroes were mostly inside the house, and then they left pretty fast. There's only a few photos, and a lot of them are blurry. People haven't learned how to change up the settings on their phones and cameras to get the best superhero pics."

"I see."

"Most of the stuff I've found was just blog posts and texts from a couple of our classmates," Alya told him. "It's a pity, because the new superhero looked cool, and how am I supposed to make a Ladyblog post about the new guy if there's no information about him?"

"She's doubly sore because she also missed the other new superhero a couple months ago," Nino told Mr. Dupain. "You remember, the fox that was just here for a few fights, that everyone decided must have been a foreign user that was just in town visiting? Alya was too distracted trying to take care of her sisters to get footage, and didn't see the Fox jump right over her head, and some of her followers have been annoyed at her for it."

Tom chuckled. "Well, your Ladyblog followers just have to understand that you can't be expected to cover the entire city all the time. You can't be everywhere at once."

Alya made a face and slouched. "Tell that to my followers," she muttered moodily. "I gotta find as many sources as possible so I can make some sort of post about the turtle holder. Ugh, and if only I had stayed out a bit longer after the akuma fight was over!"

"Well, I had better get back down to the bakery. I just came up to see if, ah, Marinette was up yet," Tom said, glancing upwards. He looked over at them briefly, looking a little shifty. "Uh..."

"We know Adrien is up there," Nino informed him. "They're cuddling."

"Aha."

"Was he over here when his father was arrested?" Alya wanted to know. Nino sat up in interest as Tom suddenly looked a little trapped.

"He- yes, he was. And- oh, I think it's time for me to get bread out of the ovens! Have some snacks, leave some for Adrien and Marinette, and, uh, see you later!"

With that, Tom was out the door in a flash. Nino was impressed that a man so large could move so fast.

"Bugger, I was going to ask if he knew anything about Adrien's father!" Alya complained. She gave the door Tom had vanished through a disgruntled look. "I would go ask Sabine, but she wouldn't want to say anything in front of the customers."

Nino frowned. "Wait, why would they know anything?"

"Unless the police who came to talk to Adrien talked to him alone and Adrien didn't share, Tom and Sabine and Marinette should all know," Alya explained. "And I can't see Adrien not telling them, just to get things off his chest."

"Would Sabrina maybe have some idea?" Nino suggested. "Her father was probably involved in the rest."

"He was the one who said that the police had no further comments," Alya said. She lit up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "That's it! I'll text Sabina now."

Nino grinned and hopped up to investigate the basket of goodies Tom had left while Alya texted Sabrina. As he returned with a chocolate-filled pastry, Alya's phone dinged with a response. She scrambled to check it, and then her expression dropped.

"Her father is refusing to even tell her anything," Alya reported. "He said that he isn't sharing anything until there's an official announcement."

Nino groaned.

"I just don't understand why the superheroes would be involved in police business," Alya said, flopping against the seat and scrolling through her phone again. "Like, I know they sometimes get called in to help with runaway buses and struggling helicopters and whatnot, but to arrest someone?"

Nino just shrugged. He didn't want to suggest the worse-case scenario that he had thought of, just in case he was wrong. In fact, he was surprised that Alya hadn't thought of the same thing he had.

Maybe she had, but just didn't want to say it.

"Maybe they went through the Agreste mansion during the akuma attack and discovered something illegal," Alya suggested. "But...that still doesn't entirely make sense. Why not just tell the police and then have them go up to the door?"

"Who knows." Nino glanced towards the stairs again, then at his watch. He thought that Adrien at least was usually up by this time, but this wasn't exactly a normal day. Adrien might be asleep for a while yet. Even if he woke up, Adrien might not come downstairs right away if Marinette was still asleep.

They might be waiting for a bit.

It was a full hour and a half more before there was any noise from upstairs. Nino and Alya perked up, both setting aside their phones to stare expectantly at the stairs. It took another fifteen minutes before Marinette came down the stairs followed by a bleary-eyed Adrien. Oddly enough, Marinette actually seemed the more awake one out of the two. She spotted Alya and Nino on the couch first and paused. Adrien walked right into her back and only yawned.

"Nino! Alya! What are you doing here?" Marinette managed. Her voice had turned squeaky, and her cheeks tinted pink as she glanced back at Adrien. He blinked, looking vaguely more awake, and then his eyes slid over to Nino and Alya as well.

Suddenly Adrien looked much more awake.

"We came over to see you guys," Alya told her friend immediately. Then a small smirk slid onto her face. "Well, we came to see Marinette. We weren't expecting Adrien to be over here, too."

Nino noticed as Marinette tensed up slightly, one of her hands sliding back to twine with Adrien's. She glanced back at him, whispering something, and then nodded towards the bathroom door. Adrien nodded and then stepped back, turning to flee into the bathroom while Marinette turned to face them. Clearly she was planning on taking the brunt of the questioning, or maybe she was just stalling for time while Adrien prepared himself.

"We heard that Adrien's father was arrested," Alya told Marinette after the door had clicked shut. "So we were going to come over and collect you before going over to Adrien's house to see him, but then we saw that he was actually over here." She gave Marinette a little smirk, waving her phone with the pictures on it. "You two looked very comfortable cuddled up together."

Marinette turned bright red.

"Do you know what's going on?" Nino asked Marinette. "We've been trying to figure it out, but there haven't been any press releases or anything."

Marinette fidgeted. "It's not my place to say anything," she hedged.

"But you do know."

Marinette paused, then very, very slowly gave a single nod. She glanced back at the closed bathroom door, a concerned look on her face.

Clearly she wasn't going to tell them anything without Adrien's express permission. Nino didn't blame her. He would do the same in a heartbeat, even if it made Alya annoyed with him.

"Is he doing okay?" Nino asked quietly, so Adrien wouldn't be able to hear him from inside the bathroom. "He hasn't read any of my texts from yesterday or today."

"Well, we were asleep this morning," Marinette pointed out. "And we were, uh, busy yesterday. And I think Adrien might have turned his phone off after everything. I know I did." She glanced towards the bathroom door again. "And he's doing about as well as could be expected. He slept well, so there's that."

That was a good sign, or at least so Nino thought. Adrien sleeping meant that whatever his father had done couldn't be that bad, right? Adrien wouldn't sleep if he was really concerned about his father being in jail for a long time. He would stay up worrying himself sick half of the night and then only fall asleep out of exhaustion. He was probably still worried about his father- it was only natural- but whatever the problem was, it couldn't be that severe.

Alya was just as surprised. "He actually fell asleep?"

Marinette looked sheepish. "Weeeellll...we might have given him something to help a bit with that. I don't know if he would have slept very well otherwise."

...okay, so maybe it was serious, then. Nino just wanted to know already.

The bathroom door clicked open and Adrien slid back out. He looked nervous, though Nino didn't understand why. Did he think that they were going to judge him for his father being arrested?

That was not going to fly with Nino. Nuh-uh, no way.

Bouncing up (and brushing off the crumbs from the pastries he had eaten from his pants), Nino crossed the room to engulf Adrien in a giant bear hug. Alya wasn't far behind. Adrien first tensed, then melted into the hug.

"Dude, are you okay?" Nino wanted to know right away, releasing Adrien from the hug and resting his hands on Adrien's shoulders. "Like, what is going on?"

Adrien's smile was definitely on the weak side. "I'm doing okay, I guess. And..." He bit his lip, looking uneasy. Marinette reached over and twined her hand with his. Nino didn't miss the squeeze that passed between them. "And my father...he was Hawkmoth."

And just like that, Nino's worse-case-scenario was confirmed. Alya gasped, looking horrified.

"Really?"

Adrien just nodded.

"Dude."

"Adrien is staying here until the police figure out who is supposed to be taking care of him now," Marinette told them. She sent a shy look in Adrien's direction. "...or as long as he wants to stay, really. We're happy to have him here."

If it weren't for the circumstances, Nino was positive that Alya would have teased her friend about that. He would have teased Marinette about that, and then turned right around to tease his own best friend. As it was, they were a little too focused on Adrien.

"And here I was saying that it couldn't possibly be any worse than a little tax evasion," Nino said in complete disbelief. "I- just wow. Did the police have any idea what kind of sentence he might get yet?"

Adrien just shrugged.

"Did they have any useful information for you, then?" Alya wanted to know. "Or did they just tell you that your father had been arrested and why?"

"Ladybug and Chat Noir stopped by to break the news before Officer Raincomprix got here," Marinette told them. "So really all he told us was that there would be police at the school so reporters wouldn't be harassing Adrien there." She gave them a small smile. "It was good that the superheroes came by first, though. Officer Raincomprix isn't very comfortable with giving people bad news."

"And two untrained superheroes are better at that sort of thing than a police officer that's taken training and classes about that sort of thing?" Alya said incredulously.

"Officer Raincomprix must really suck at breaking news, then," Nino said immediately, because Alya was right. While Ladybug and Chat Noir were good at comforting akuma victims, he really didn't think that that sort of thing completely translated over to telling someone that their father had been a supervillain and had been arrested, especially when the superheroes themselves had been the ones doing the arresting. And dealing with the brunt of the damage and mayhem that the supervillain had caused.

Then again, that sort of thing required tact, and Nino wasn't entirely positive that that was one of Sabrina's bumbling father's strengths.

Marinette and Adrien shared an odd little look, looking strangely amused at that, and Nino had to wonder just how bad of a job Sabrina's father had done when he arrived. Or maybe the superheroes had just done a really stellar job, or maybe the turtle holder had been the one to talk and they just didn't want to mention him so that Alya wouldn't go into super-reporter-mode and start interrogating Adrien.

"We should probably eat," Marinette said before either Nino or Alya could ask any more questions. "It looks like Papa brought up some treats."

"They were warm two hours ago, but who knows about now," Nino said, stepping back to let the two of them through. "Adrien, dude, Marinette is rubbing off on you already. You never sleep this late."

He was glad to see the hints of a smile flash across Adrien's face. "Actually, Marinette woke up before I did. She was waiting for me for a while."

"I'm thinking maybe you should take less of the, uh, sleeping aid tonight," Marinette said with a bit of a rueful look. "Otherwise you'll be impossible to wake up on time for school." A pause. "Unless you just want to skip tomorrow?"

"Haven't decided yet," Adrien mumbled. He fished a croissant out of the basket of pastries and stuck it in his mouth. "I don't really want to have to field a million questions from everyone, but I don't really want to miss class, either."

Nino was 100% positive that he would fight anyone who pestered Adrien. He was pretty certain that most people in their class would back off if told that Adrien didn't want to talk about it- and he could probably rope Ivan and Kim into helping him keep the other students at school away from Adrien without too much effort, too. Chloe would probably be more difficult, if the fact that she had started spamming his phone with texts (presumably after not having gotten any response from texting Adrien) half an hour ago was any indication.

Literally everyone else in the class had just sent him one or two texts asking if he knew anything, but of course Chloe thought that sending thirty texts would make him respond faster. Nino was tempted to put off answering her for even longer, just to be a little petty.

"We can deal with people," Nino promised Adrien. "And if you want us to meet you guys here tomorrow morning so we can all walk together, we can do that. Just say the word."

That got a proper smile out of Adrien.

While Adrien and Marinette ate breakfast, Nino quickly texted their classmates (minus Chloe, of course, and Sabrina, who hadn't texted him at all and who would just run to Chloe with any news), telling them that Adrien wasn't ready to share with the rest of the class yet and asking that they just treat Adrien like normal.

Hopefully they would listen. Adrien looked like he needed a little normal right about now.

As he joined back into the conversation, Nino couldn't help but wonder what Adrien's life was going to look like from here on out. With his mother missing and his father in jail, was he going to be carted off to live with some relative somewhere else in the country? Was he going to stay in Paris, under the watch of his father's secretary? Was Nathalie even going to be able to take care of Adrien? If she had known about Mr. Agreste's supervillain tendencies, she might get jail time as well. What about the Gorilla? Would any of Adrien's former caretakers be free to take care of Adrien so that he wouldn't have to leave the city?

Frowning, Nino shook off the depressing thought. Hopefully the police would take Adrien's wishes into consideration and let him stay in the city with his friends. He had support here, friends and teachers and, well, whatever Marinette was (Girlfriend? Future girlfriend? Cuddle buddy?). Adrien probably wouldn't be allowed to stay at the Dupain-Cheng house long-term (since he was sharing both a room and a bed with Marinette currently), but surely he wouldn't be pulled away from them permanently.

Adrien had already been through so much in the past year. Hopefully the next few months would be calmer and he would be able to recover from everything that had happened.

Because Nino knew that more than anything, his best friend deserved some stability. He deserved guardians that cared for him, he deserved supportive friends that he could hang out with, and most of all, he deserved freedom to enjoy himself like a normal teenager.

Hopefully Adrien would get that soon.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #Plagg and the Butterfly Costume #also anything ppl want to see in future outtakes?#like stuff that happens between this and the sequel #because there will be a sequel and then more like....assorted one-shots in this 'verse on the side #IT WAS ONLY MEANT TO BE A ONE-SHOT

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lovexthexflash · 6 years

Text

Five Years to Sin

Chapter 2 by me (lovexthexflash)

It was after midnight when Barry vaulted down from his carriage in front of the impressive three-story, columned entrance to Gentlemen’s Club „S.T.A.R.“. He ascended the wide steps to the watered-glass double doors, which were held open by footmen liveried in black and silver. As he handed his hat and gloves to the waiting attendant, he noted the curricle-sized floral arrangement gracing a massive round table in the circular, domed foyer. Harrison Wells ad long been acknowledged as a man of impeccable taste, and his establishment remained the most exclusive in England in part due to his willingness to continuously update the décor. Wells did not follow prevailing inclinations in design; he set the standard for them.

Directly ahead was the gaming area, which was the center of all business. From there, one could access the stairs to the fencing studio, as well as the many lovely courtesans and their private rooms. The lower floor accommodated boxing training and lessons. To the left was the bar and kitchen. To the right was Harrison Wells’s office.

Barry crossed the black-and-white marble floor to the gaming area, then moved beyond that to the great room. The smell of leather and fragrant tobacco helped to settle nerves kept on edge since his visit with Iris the day before.

At least that was true until the Earl of Thawne caught his eye. Seated in one of a half dozen wingbacks surrounding a low table, Thawne laughed at something said by Lord Hartley Rathaway. Also in his circle were Lord Cisco Ramon and Lord Wally West. Barry sat down on one of the free chairs.

– “Good evening, Tarley.” – Cisco drawled while signaling for a footman. – “Seeking escape from all the debutantes eager for your new title?”

– “I have an increased appreciation for the toll the Season can take on an unwed peer.” – Barry ordered cognac from the waiting server, as did Thawne. The rest of the men at the table had half-full libations.

– “Here, here.” – Hartley concurred, lifting his glass in toast.

– “Better you than me.” – Lord Cisco said. As a second son, he enjoyed a less hunted existence; the other men at the table had wives.

Studying Thawne, Barry wondered why the man was out carousing with friends when he should be home making amends to Iris. It was difficult for him to restrain his tongue after witnessing her unhappiness. If she had been his, he would ensure nothing marred her existence.

The footman returned with two glasses of cognac. Eddie took an immediate drink, which brought Barry’s attention to the hand the earl wrapped around the bulbous glass. The knuckles were swollen and bruised.

–“Engaged in fisticuffs lately, Eddie?” – he asked, before taking a drink himself.

To his knowledge, the earl was a genial fellow who was well liked by one and all. Lauded by women for his golden good looks, easy smile, and ready charm, Thawne made it very difficult for Barry to like him. The man seemed too blithesome, to the point of lacking any real substance. But perhaps that was what made him suit Iris, who’d once been the merriest and most enchanting woman anywhere. She was still the latter and would always be to Barry ’s mind.

– “Pugilism.” – Eddie replied. – “An excellent sport.”

– “Agreed. I enjoy it myself. Do you practice here?”

– “Often. If you’re ever of a mind to practice together–”

– “Absolutely.”– Barry interjected, relishing the possibility of championing Iris, even if he was the only one who knew his motivation. From the sight of Thawne’s knuckles, the man preferred training sans mufflers, which suited Barry perfectly in this instance.

– “Name the time and date, and I will be there.”

– “I shall require the betting book.” – Lord Wally called out, deliberately drawing attention.

Eddie grinned.

– “Spoiling for a fight, are you, Tarley? I’ve had such days. I would be happy to oblige you now.”

Barry sized the earl up. Eddie was shorter than he. Barry had the advantage in height and arm reach. Settling more comfortably into the butter-soft leather, he said:

– “I would prefer an early-afternoon bout. We’ll enjoy ourselves more if we are both rested and free of drink.”

The betting book was brought to the table, which lured an audience.

An unusual appearance of somberness possessed Eddie’s features.

– “Excellent point. This day next week, then? Three o’clock?”

– “Perfect.”

An anticipatory smile curved Barry ’s lips. He reached for the betting book and placed a wager on Ronnie’s behalf with odds on himself.

It was just the sort of bet his friend would appreciate.

* * *

When Iris saw her husband at the dining table a few hours later, Eddie looked far from afflicted. Indeed, he looked extremely fit. His smile was bright and his spirits high. He kissed her cheek when she moved to pass him en route to her chair.

– “Kippers and eggs?” – he queried before walking over to the row of covered platters on the buffet.

Her stomach roiled.

–“No, thank you.”

– “You don’t eat enough, darling.”

– “I took toast in my room.”

– “But you join me for breakfast anyway.” – His smile was glorious. – “You are too wonderful. How was your evening?”

– “Unexceptional, but enjoyable all the same.”

Iris almost dreaded these moments of normalcy. The pretense that all was right in their world, that no malevolence lurked in the darkness, that he was a wonderful husband and she a contented wife. It was like staring at a box one knew would burst open at some point and not knowing if the surprise would be terrifying or not. There was agony in the waiting.

Her gaze strayed and moved around the room. Their home was lauded by friends for its bright cheery colors, such as the soft cream and bright blue vertical stripes she’d used on the walls of the dining room. They’d purchased the town house just before their wedding; it was to have been a fresh beginning for both of them. But now she knew how futile that hope had been. The taint was on him … in him, and he carried it with him wherever they went.

– “I shared a drink with Tarley last night.”– Thawne said between bites. – “He was seeking refuge from the debutantes. The strain of being hunted is beginning to take its toll, I suspect.”

Iris looked at him. The tempo of her heartbeat changed, increasing inexplicably.

– “Oh?”

– “I remember those days well. You saved me in more ways than you know, my love. I’m providing assistance to Tarley via a release of tension. He learned of my interest in pugilism, and we’ve agreed to a match.”

Dear God! She knew well how swiftly Eddie could move and how relentless he could become. He couldn’t tolerate losing; it exacerbated his already overwhelming feelings of insecurity. Her stomach knotted further.

– “A match? Between the two of you?”

– “Would you happen to know how skilled he is in the sport?”

Iris shook her head:

– “He sparred with Ronnie Raymond in our youth. That’s all I know of his interest. He and I were close once, but I’ve seen little of him since you and I wed.”

– “A wager easily won, then.”

– “Perhaps you might suggest he consider a less learned opponent?”

– “You fear for him, do you?” – he grinned.

– “Caitlin thinks very highly of him.”– Iris prevaricated.

– “Everyone does, so I gather. No need for concern, love. It’s all in good fun, I assure you.” – Glancing at one of the two footmen standing at the ready, he said. – “Lady Thawne will take buttered toast and jam.”

Iris sighed, resigning herself to eating whether she wanted to or not.

She was thrown unaccountably out of sorts by the thought of Barry fighting Eddie, especially when his motivation might be aggravation over choosing a proper wife. In that respect, she could be of more assistance than her husband. There was very little she didn’t know about the women of the ton, from the most established matrons to the newest debutantes. Perhaps he would accept her help. It would do her heart much good to see him content with his lot. He certainly deserved happiness.

Eddie set his silverware atop his empty plate.

– “I should very much enjoy squiring you about the Park this afternoon. Tell me you don’t have other plans.”

If she had, she knew to cancel them. When Eddie wanted her time, he expected to have it. She was his wife, after all. His. Irrevocably owned until death parted them.

Looking up from her paper, she managed a smile:

– “A lovely thought, my lord. Thank you.”

* * *

– “There is a bonnet in the window.” – Iris offered. – “I think it would be exquisite on you, Patty.”

Moving toward the front of the shop, Iris reached for the aforementioned hat perched so prettily on a stand, but paused when her gaze was caught by a figure outside. Bond Street was congested with pedestrians, as usual, and yet one form caught her attention and held it.

The man was tall and fit, elegant, with a horseman’s thighs and shoulders requiring no padding. His dark green coat and doeskin breeches were modestly adorned but clearly expensive. He had such a confident way of moving that others instinctively made way for him. The women watched him with feminine awareness; the men moved out of his path.

As if he felt the intensity of her regard, the man turned his head toward her. Beneath the brim of his hat, Iris saw a square jaw she would know anywhere.

Barry. Warmth spread through her veins, a feeling she hadn’t experienced since the first time Eddie had struck her. Something inside her had numbed that day, but it stirred now, awakening.

Dear God! When had he become such a fine specimen of a man? When had her childhood companion left boyhood behind? When he became Lord Tarley? Or prior to that? She so rarely saw him anymore that she couldn’t pinpoint when he might have become so formidable.

He paused as she did, a lone stationary figure in the midst of a flurry of activity. He carried himself so beautifully, so easily. Comfortable with his height in a way her husband, who was a few inches shorter, had never been.

Iris’s hand fell to her side. Before she quite knew what she was about, she found herself outside, waiting for Barry, who weaved through traffic en route to her with graceful impatience.

– “Good afternoon, Lord Tarley.” – she said when he reached her. She was surprised her voice was so clear and steady, when she felt fuzzy headed and shaky.

He removed his hat, revealing rich chocolate-brown hair. With a bow, he greeted her.

– “Lady Thawne. I am feeling most fortunate to have crossed paths with you this morning.”

She was ridiculously pleased by the smoothly voiced platitude.

– “The feeling is mutual.”

Barry looked over her shoulder into the milliner’s shop.

– “An afternoon with friends?”

– “Yes.”

Which meant she couldn’t speak to him about the matter weighing heavily on her mind.

– “I must see you as soon as you can possibly spare the time. I have something I wish to discuss with you.”

– “What is it?” – He tensed. – “Is something amiss?”

– “I’ve heard about your wager with Eddie.”

With brows raised, he said:

– “I won’t hurt him. Too much.”

– “It isn’t Thawne I worry about.” – Barry had no notion of what sleeping beast he might awaken.

– “I cannot decide whether to be flattered by your concern or insulted by your lack of faith in my pugilistic abilities.”

– “I cannot bear to think of you injured.”

– “I will endeavor to protect my person on your behalf. In all fairness, however, you should know that my doing so could result in injury to your husband.”

Had he always looked at her with such warmth in his green eyes?

– “Eddie is physically capable of defending himself.”

When Barry frowned at her tone, she realized she might have revealed more than she should. She deflected his concern with distraction.

– “I very much enjoyed your visit the other day. I do wish you would call on me more often.”

– “I wish I could, Iris.” – His voice was low and intimate, his gaze shadowed. – “I will try.”

They parted ways. It was with great force of will that Iris refrained from looking back over her shoulder when she returned to the shop. It was one thing to take a moment to speak to her best friend’s brother-in-law. It would be quite another to be seen ogling after him.

When Iris returned to her companions, her sister-in-law, Lady Linda Park said:

– “The title suits Tarley.”

Iris nodded, knowing the grief and other burdens that came with his new station.

– “With any luck, Patty,” – Lady Park went on. – “a new bonnet will catch his attention and secure you a fine match.”

– “Would that I should be so fortunate.” – Patty removed yet another unflattering hat from atop her lovely blond curls. – “I have admired him for some time.”

Iris felt a sharp pang in her chest at her friend’s dreamy tone. She told herself it was a symptom of increasing, not something far more complicated and impossible … like jealousy.

* * *

– “You wished to see me?” – Nora Allen asked her son.

– “Yes.” – set his quill aside and stood. – “I have a favor to ask of you. I should like you to deepen your association with Lady Thawne. Draw her into your social circle. Spend more time with her, if you would.”

– “She is charming, of course, but there are a notable number of years between us. I am not certain our interests are aligned.”

– “Try.”

– “Why?”

Leaning forward, he set his forearms on his knees.

– “I fear something is not right with her. I need your opinion. If I am correct, you would note it straightaway.”

– “I meant, why the interest in Lady Regmont in particular? If there is anything requiring attention, Lord Thawne will see to it. You, on the other hand, need a spouse of your own to occupy you.”

Groaning, Barry’s head fell back and his eyes closed.

– “Is marrying me off all anyone can think about these days? The gossip rags are rife with speculation over my intentions, and now I cannot even enjoy a respite in my own home!”

– “Isn’t there any woman who appeals to you?”

Absolutely. – he thought to himself. – As you’ve so astutely surmised, I am crazy for another man’s wife.

Barry straightened.

– “Enough of this. I am well. Our affairs are well. There is no need for concern in any respect. I am tired and feeling ill equipped, but I’m learning quickly, and soon all will be as second nature to me. Settle your mind, if you would, please.”

– “So.” – Nora’s tone was resigned. – “Tell me what rouses your concern over Lady Regmont.”

– “She is gaunt and far too pale. She seems overly delicate, both physically and otherwise. It isn’t like her. She was always vivacious … full of energy and life.”

– “Men rarely take note of such things about their own wives, let alone another man’s.”

Holding up his hand, he warded off further speculative admonishments.

– “I know my place and hers. Note that I am placing this matter in your hands. My mind will be eased by your assistance, allowing me to return my focus to affairs falling within my purview.”

And then they were silent. The silence was disturbed by his mother:

– “Lady Thawne has a profound effect on you since you care so much for her.”

Barry scrubbed a hand over his face.

– “Why do women insist on ascribing deep meaning to random events?”

– “Because we take note of life’s details, which men fail to do. That is why women are cleverer than men.” – She bared her pristinely white teeth in an overly sweet smile.

Barry grew wary due to familiarity with that particular smile and the mischief it portended.

– “I will see to Iris for you.” – she said in a honeyed tone. – “For a price.”

Right. He knew it.

– “What will it cost me?”

– “You must allow me to introduce you to some suitable young ladies.”

– “Bloody hell.” – Barry snapped. – “Can you not simply act out of the kindness of your heart?”

– “Kindness for you. You are overworked, overtired, and underappreciated. Not surprisingly, you find yourself drawn to someone who is familiar and comfortable.”

Realizing that arguing against her points would only work against him, Michael kept his mouth shut and pushed to his feet. Tea was most definitely not going to be sufficient for him. Benedict’s cognac in the bookcase behind the desk was far more appealing. He approached the wall of books and bent to open one of the carved wooden cabinet doors lining the bottom row.

– “Good that you aren’t speaking,” – she went on. – “because you should be listening. I married a Allen male and raised two more; I know precisely how you are built.”

He’d stopped pouring at the halfway point, but decided to continue to the rim.

– “We are built differently from other men?”

– “Some men choose their mates with their reason, weighing the benefits and detriments in a purely analytical manner. Others – like your friend Raymond – respond to physical attractions. But Allen men choose from here” – she tapped her chest above her heart – “and once the choice is made, they are hard to dissuade.”

– “See to Lady Thawne.”– he said grimly. – “Give her whatever counsel or sympathetic ear she may need, for as long as she may need it. In return, I will make myself available to your matchmaking.”

Nora’s mouth curved.

– “Done.”

* * *

In the last few days, Mrs. Allen had been going to Thawne's house and talking to Iris. Iris was worried and shared:

– “I feel so wretched most of the day. And I confess, I worry about the match between Eddie and Barry tomorrow. I wish there was some way to dissuade them. Eddie takes such things so seriously.”

– “You care about Barry.”

Iris felt a blush sweep over her cheeks. Over the past week, she’d found herself paying undue attention to Barry. She’d looked for him at events and around the city, hoping for a mere glimpse. The sharp prick of excitement she felt when she found him both exhilarated and saddened her. It was undeniable proof that her love for her husband had lost its ability to consume her.

– “He’s a good man.”

– “Yes, he is.” – Nora set her cup down with a sigh. – “I must be honest with you. I have more than one reason for cultivating our friendship. Though I’m deeply grateful for assistance with my attire, I have a need for another of your skills more.”

– “If I can help in any way, I would be honored to.”

– “I should like your expert opinion on the debutantes who might best suit Barry Allen. Since you care for him as I do, I know you want to see him content in his marriage.”

– “Of course.”

Iris met the countess’s examining gaze directly, drawing upon years of Caitlin’s coaching to hide her dismay. It was unreasonable for her to wish for him to remain as he’d always been.

– “Thank you. I hope to see him settled before the year is out.” – said Nora.

– “That would be wonderful.” – Iris agreed softly. – “If we cannot manage sooner.”

Iris felt terrible. Will he marry a friend of hers? Lady Spivot seemed to be interested in becoming Lord Tarley's future wife. She tried to push those feelings back.

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