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lavender-laudanum · 4 months

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Dragon Age Ficlet #2: Dorian V Geth

“Come here often?”

Dorian jolted and looked over his shoulder, surprised at the heavily scarred but warm hand that had suddenly appeared on his, stopping him from picking up his drink again. He turned in time to be eye-to-eye with none other than Geth Trevelyan, the Lord Inquisitor himself. The look on Geth’s face is kind, with a small, soft lopsided smile that gentled the normally fierce edges of his austere features and sharp, silvery azure eyes - a lowering of his guard that he normally only reserved for safe, quiet moments.

Interestingly enough, most of those moments happened to be when he was with Dorian.

“I thought you were in an emergency meeting? Something about Samson?" Dorian asked him, as Geth released him and sat down next to him in the corner of the tavern, accepting the usual offer of steaming green tea and a few lavender-lemon iced shortbread cookies from the attentive innkeeper, who kept them fresh daily specifically for the Lord Inquisitor - who, as far as Dorian could tell, didn't drink alcohol, or anything else aside from water and tea, at all.

“The issue isn’t going to be solved in one night, unfortunately, much like a lot of things,” Geth answered lightly, conversationally, putting a hand around his mug - probably to just feel its heat, smart enough not to immediately take a sip, as he sat back, “Besides, I don’t want to argue in circles. They can do that on their own.”

“I saw how quickly you shut them down at Haven,” Dorian nodded, approvingly, “They can be like hens, your Advisors, can’t they?”

“I liken them to cats, myself; all claws and teeth, distrustful and distant - until you get to know them, at least,” Geth smiles that crooked little smile again, eyes alight, “Though, with that feathered monstrosity Cullen wears, I see where 'hen' comes from.”

The unexpected humor started a sharp, loud laugh out of Dorian.

“You don’t like it?!”

“It is so damn obnoxious - and with that silly lion helmet he wears?” Geth grinned, pleased at the reaction, the expression making him actually look his age, instead of so much older; despite Dorian being absolutely sure that he was older than the Lord Inquisitor himself by at least a few years, though Geth had never explicitly told anyone how old he was, “But, I suppose he likes it, and it looks at least sort of warm, so I can't really fault him…"

Dorian laughed again and shook his head, glancing over his shoulder at the tavern behind him, busy and loud with the sounds of dinner. Herald’s Rest was the name of the place, and it was situated at the foot of Skyhold, near the massive staircase leading into the hold itself. Dorian thought the name was rather on the nose, and ironic since Geth didn’t seem like he particularly enjoyed it here at all; only coming into speak to the members of the Inner Circle that had made the place home. He did, rarely, share dinner here with someone, or watch Maryden the Bard's various songs from a distance, a mug of his favorite tea in hand.

“Have you eaten?” Geth asked Dorian, more serious now as he nodded at the half-empty wine glass and the bottle that was almost a third gone.

“Not yet,” Dorian answered, a little tense, a little defensive.

“And water?” Geth added.

Dorian grumbled.

This seems to both amuse and concern Geth at the same time, though the amusement was only very slight, a tiny quirk at the very corner of one side of his lip. He doesn’t respond right away, taking a sip of his tea, thoughtfully. Then, he turns and gestures to the innkeeper, who hurried over.

"What do you have from the kitchens today?" He asked, kindly, and the bartender brightened at the request.

"We have a hot game venison and vegetable stew, and fresh bread with butter, Lord Inquisitor."

"Just Geth," Geth smiled, "Two, please, for Dorian and me. And a pitcher of water."

"Of course!"

"You don't have to do that," Dorian gives Geth a look, still rather defensive, although he wasn't sure why, "How did you even know I was here?"

"A little birdie," Geth answered, in that sometimes cryptic way of his, "And I am here because I wanted to have supper with you. I couldn't find you in the library."

Dorian replied with just a suspicious look, and Geth sighed a bit.

"I'm not going to tell you to do anything you don't want to do, Dorian. You are an adult; I am not your father."

"Thank the Maker for that."

Geth snorted.

"… I don't think I've ever seen you drink," Dorian said, after a few moments, nodding at the Inquisitor's tea, "Do you, ever?"

"I was taught by the Circle how to drink with meals, mostly wine pairings, sometimes beer," Geth said with a nod, "So, I did. But I was never particularly fond of it. However, I was a smoker - I occasionally bought a pouch of smoking tobacco and rolling paper - but not since I joined the Inquisition as it's expensive and I don't want to spend the coin on it. Josephine says I'm allowed to do with my own personal funds as I like, but I still can't justify it."

"You smoked?" Dorian made a face, and Geth chuckled.

"In my defense, I'll reiterate; not since I left Ostwick to come to the Conclave, Dorian. Don't worry."

"How often would you do it?"

"Well," Geth thought about it, "I started shortly after I became a Knight-Enchanter; I'd smoke with my brother Cedric, and his best friend, Anko. At the Ostwick Circle, especially for those with high noble blood like me, we were allowed to leave and visit our families, especially if you were of a good rank. There was once I was even able to travel out of Ostwick, but that was on a single case, and it never happened again until the war."

"Why?"

"My brother," Geth explained, simply, "When I turned 18. He took me out of Ostwick to see the sea for the first time."

"Ah," Dorian nodded, "I can't imagine so little freedom."

Geth smiled a little at him, and at that moment their food arrived, the innkeeper setting steaming bowls of thick, rich stew and a pitcher of water in front of them with two glasses. He politely left them to it after Geth thanked him, a small spring in his step.

"Hold on," Dorian remembered suddenly, "You don't like eating in front of people."

"I can stand it tonight," Geth answered, picking up the pitcher to pour them water, "Here, have some of this before you eat; it'll help your appetite."

Giving in, Dorian took the filled mug of water, and the look Geth gave him was worth it.

"Why don't you?" He asked, seriously, "Eat in front of people, I mean."

"It's complicated," Geth said, "I don't like being stared at in general, and big, shuffling crowds tend to make me nervous. It's part anxiety, and part I just don't like being watched, especially not when I'm eating. I've always been like this, though, it's not a new thing."

Dorian nodded, and they ate companionably after that. Maryden had started to sing, and Geth, after eating whatever he was able to - the man was never a very good eater, and it was crowded and of course he was being at least looked at occasionally since they were sitting at the main table in the tavern - turned his seat so he could watch her and listen, sitting back with his tea again, but keeping close to Dorian as he ate his own fill.

After a while, Dorian set his food aside and turned too, watching the bard.

"Do you like her music?" Dorian asked him, after a few songs.

"I knew quite a few Mages who took up music as a hobby," Geth looked over at him, eyes gentle, "I was never very good at it. But I do enjoy listening, on occasion."

"What were your hobbies?"

"In the Circle?" Geth thought about it, "I was reader, writer, and I practiced magic - usually open combat magic, sometimes hand-to-hand. I've mentioned that I came into my magic extremely early - four years old. Having such a young, but powerful Mage on their hands made the Templars extremely interested in my training from day one; they actually wanted me to take the Harrowing at age nine, but luckily for me, First Enchanter Arkell put her foot down."

"Absolutely barbaric," Dorian shook his head with a deep frown.

"There's a reason the Mages outside Tevinter rebelled." Geth answered, simply.

"I never doubted that" Dorian assured him, kindly, following up with a different question, "What did you think about that, when it happened?"

Geth looked serious again as he thought about it.

"My gut reaction was, 'this isn't going to end well,' which ended up completely true," Geth said, after Maryden's next song had ended, Dorian waiting patiently for the rest of his answer, "My next one was that a lot of good people were going to die; also correct, of course. But after those initial thoughts… I was afraid, Dorian. So deeply afraid. Until I shook hands with the Grand Enchanter at Redcliffe and ended it, I believed that it would destroy the whole of Thedas."

"You were almost right," Dorian says, taking Geth's free hand, and squeezing, "Luckily, Thedas had you."

Geth smiled and squeezed back. "I've made mistakes."

"Maybe," Dorian answered, "Maybe not. I think you've done a better job than anyone else could have."

"Do you now?" Geth laughed a little, shaking his head, "At least I have your approval."

They looked back at Maryden, still preforming, a backdrop of merriment to contrast with the seriousness of their conversation.

"Dorian," Geth says, after a moment, very quietly, "I think you need to stop drinking."

Dorian, startled by the sudden shift in conversation, looked over at him, into the Lord Inquisitor's calm, concerned steel grey eyes, flecked with azure. While his first gut instinct was to get up and walk out (and he knew from experience Geth wouldn't chase him down), he didn't.

"What if I don't?"

Geth, like he'd expected that, sighed heavily.

"I'm not going to threaten you, Dorian."

"I didn't think you would," Dorian says, looking back at Maryden, so Geth couldn't see the look on his face - he'd seen Geth confront members of the Inner Circle before. His reaction to Rainier's betrayal, which was the first thing he thought of, had been incredible. No other man in their mighty Lord Inquisitor's position would have let the man live, let alone continue to serve the Inquisition as a trusted and beloved member of his closest guard. Rainier himself had been stunned, of course. Dorian could hear him sniffling sometimes, while they'd been on the same team, out beating back Corypheus and his minions.

"Good," Geth says, "Because I would never threaten you. I'm not going to be that person in your life."

Dorian doesn't know how to respond to that - but that was a feeling he often had with Geth. Geth's approach to things, at first, didn't make any sense, but eventually it just hit people, like Dorian himself, like a hard knock to the head. Geth had a "method to the mad," as he often called it, which when questioned, meant that he saw everything he did against Corypheus like a chessboard - relationships, plans of attack, judgements he's done at Skyhold, every decision he made… there was always a plan.

Sometimes it scared Dorian, how these plans sometimes came together - with no one but Geth ever seeing it coming.

"Cole told me," Geth finally added, breaking the somewhat long silence, "Up at the library, when I was looking for you. He implied you were here."

"Ah."

Geth nodded, sitting back again, giving Dorian's hand another gentle squeeze.

"Are you willing to stop drinking, Dorian?" Geth asked him, after a moment, keeping an eye on Maryden who was about to start her next song; maybe to show Dorian that he wasn't going to make a scene at his response, "If you aren't, that's all right - I will not force you; I am not your keeper, nor do I want to be. However, as your friend, as your partner, and maybe as Lord Inquisitor, I have to bring this up, for both our sake's."

It made sense, as much as Dorian didn't want to admit it. Geth had never seen him get drunk; in fact, he made sure - that was probably what tipped him off in the first place. They hadn't really discussed it before, either; Geth had probably waited it out to see what, explicitly, the problem was. And by leveraging his position as Lord Inquisitor, made the inquiry a little bit more difficult to avoid.

People lied to Geth, all the time. No one lied to the Lord Inquisitor, ever.

Dorian sighed, sitting back with him. "What do you want me to do, specifically, Geth?"

"Stop drinking," Geth answered, simply, "But more precisely? I want you to confront what makes you do it in the first place."

Maker give him strength - who says this kind of shit to people?

The look on Dorian's face must have said it, because Geth looks over at him with another small, crooked smile.

"I do," He says, to answer the unspoken question, "I do, Dorian. And I'm going to keep doing it. For you and for anyone else who needs to hear it."

"Why do you care, Geth?"

Geth looked over at him, sharply now. "What do you mean?"

"You care," Dorian says, seriously, meeting the other man's eyes, "So much. I knew that from the second I met you in Redcliffe. You sacrificed yourself at Haven to keep everyone alive, without a second thought when you walked out the doors of the Chantry to face Corypheus and his Archdemon alone. Then you became Inquisitor, and that just made you somehow care more."

Geth looked startled for a moment, then, incredibly, started to laugh.

"This is why I wish I was never made Lord Inquisitor," Geth finally stopped laughing, shaking his head, still chuckling a bit as he added, "Maker, I swear - Dorian, love; I do care. Yes, I care a lot - particularly about you. But it's not - you all act like no one else cares, not even yourselves. The care you see me putting into everyone, everything, the Inquisition? I do that because not only do I care, I see that everyone else here cares, too - it would be spitting in their faces, and in the faces of those who've died fighting Corypheus, if I didn't put in the same effort, if not more effort, into the cause."

Dorian didn’t answer immediately, and Geth continued, easily.

"Cassandra stood up for me in front of the Chantry, and then made me Lord Inquisitor because she trusts me above all else, not only to lead, to make good decisions, but to stop Corypheus," Geth said, making Dorian look back at him, "Cullen trusts me with the lives of countless men and women, and so does Leliana, to a fault. Blackwall - Rainier - gave up his seclusion and ultimately told us all his truth, publicly and without shame, and saved all our lives. The Iron Bull gave up who he thought he was for the Inquisition, for me. Cole helps us all keep sane and remember how to feel, despite being a spirit. Sera - Sera is here, still here, despite being only nineteen, and hating everything about magic and Demons, and yet. Solas is one of the wisest and most dedicated Mages I've ever met. Varric is here despite his wishes, despite everything, and stays because he wants to help us put Thedas right. Vivienne, despite our difficulties personally, is a powerful, powerful mage who lends her expertise in politics to me - do you think I would have made it in Orlais without her? Absolutely not - the Game, Orlais, would have eaten me alive. And you, you Dorian…"

Dorian held his breath, though he wasn't really sure why.

"Before you even came to the Inquisition, to me, you were helping," Geth says, "You tracked down Alexius, your mentor, and when you realized what he was up to, you knew it was wrong, and you came to us. You told us the truth, even knowing it would make you a target. You were the one who went through that time-traveling debacle with me, you saw firsthand what was happening and what would happen if we failed, if I failed - and you follow me to this day, to right now, regardless. Then, even after all that, you still joined the Inquisition despite being spat at and worse since you got to my side. You call yourself selfish, Dorian - but you're not. You're not selfish, you are genuine; by far one of the most genuine people I've ever met."

As he finished speaking, Geth tightened his grasp over Dorian's hand. "… That is why I care, and will always care. Because of all of you."

#dragon age #dorian pavus #dorian x inquisitor #dragon age inquisition #writing #writeblr

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whatshername86 · 2 years

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Chapter 3 - Nyx “The Investigation”

Warnings: Bad Writing, Non-Con, Rape, Cheating?, Mind-Control, Gas-Lighting… Chapter 3 – The Investigation

Summary: Not everything is what it seems. Nyx pulls her head out of her ass and starts asking the right questions. Really, I’m just getting into the plot.

Gabe cringes at the statement before taking it in. ‘What do you mean?’

Nyx hushes him with a wave of her shaky hand ‘Natasha doesn’t like penetrating sex.’

And she didn’t. It was different with fingers or a tongue, but a strap was something Natasha wasn’t comfortable taking. Nyx respected that and never pushed further than Natasha was comfortable with. When it came to the bedroom Natasha would wear the strap, but she would never be a receiver of anything longer or thicker than Nyx’s fingers.

It was Natasha’s favorite strap because of what she would do to Nyx. Not the other way around.

‘It’s a no-go area in the bedroom’

Nyx’s breathing is starting to rapidly increase as she thinks about all of the possible scenarios.

Gabe clears his throat trying to focus Nyx. ‘Are you sure that you saw…’ He makes an off handed gesture. ‘You know...’

For a man in his early fifties its comical him being all awkward regarding sex. Any other time, Nyx would be laughing at his expense.

‘I’m positive. It’s not something that I would forget.’

It should have been a signal. I should have known something was very wrong.

These were the only thoughts repeating in her mind.

But the most important question, came to the forefront of her mind. What the fuck is going on? And what happened to Nat?

Nyx hisses out ‘The witch’

Nyx moves her hands quickly and starts typing. Her focus is on the computer screen. Completely ignoring Samson who is still sitting right next to her. Until she barks out.

‘Commander I’m going to need all of the information we can get our hands on concerning Wanda Maximoff’ she looks up from her screen before stating in a clear voice, ‘I’m going to need you to reach out to your contacts in the ops community, Sir.’

Gabe knew it was Nyx’s mission voice. She had been her own team lead for roughly five years now. It appears that it is time to work. And it was best to leave her to it.

It also troubled him given Nyx’s revelation. He had grown a soft spot for the ex-assassin over the years and doesn’t want any harm to come her way.

And if he is understanding all of the pieces that Nyx has put together. Then there is no place on earth that will protect the witch from Nyx or the unit.

Nyx spends hours searching online and through military intel for information on the Maximoff’s. But she is hitting roadblocks almost at every turn. She knew that Stark had covered up her Ultron involvement.

Probably due to some guilt trip Rogers presented to Stark.

But with the Hydra data leak a few years back Nyx thought that she should come a crossed at least something by now.

The data dump.

What a mess.

Natasha and Rogers got caught up in the chaos that Peggy Carter and Fury created. And of course, Fury entrusted all information pertaining to S.H.I.E.L.D. too Rogers on a thumb drive.

Rogers didn’t even know what to do with a thumb drive.

For some reason Rogers refused to call Stark or any other tech savvy contact. Instead, what does he do.

He brings in his jogging buddy.

Then makes the decision with Fury to release all S.H.I.E.L.D. data files on the web. These files would include employee records, mission reports, informant names, residential information, financial information and more.

When that is going on Rogers was planning on crashing the Triskelion air ships as soon as each take off.

No surprise that Maria Hill followed Fury’s lead. But at that point Natasha already had her world shook by the Hydra organization being exposed within the walls of S.H.I.E.L.D.

She turned to the only person she could trust.

Luckily Nat got ahold of me. Once she gave me the details of what was happening and what Fury and Rogers planned. I immediately gathered the team. Samson coordinated with the military and extraction groups for the innocent agents, families and contacts held under SHIELD’s witness protection. Also, additional resources to clear out the surrounding area of the Triskelion’s.

I had gathered a few groups to bring in the S.H.I.E.L.D. field agents out on missions that had no idea of what was about to hit them. A mass alert went out to all S.H.I.E.L.D. employee, families of all employees, informants and witness prior to the dump. Encouraging each to relocated to a safe location or populated environment.

We had contacted Stark’s AI. To perform a preemptive filter of the information being released online. Ensuring that the data being release was Hydra and Hydra only. The AI could work much faster than any human being ever could. Stark was still recovering from surgery at the time. He couldn’t do much but oversee the filtering of the data that Jarvis was conducting.

Nyx couldn’t understand why Rogers would risk so many lives.

Fury was in a clean house mind set. Start anew. Just a plain asshole. Trying to cover his own tracks while starting again somewhere else. While everyone else is dealing with the chaos, he’s in hiding.

But that wasn’t an excuse for Rogers.

Natasha was heartbroken with the Hydra fiasco.

She had thought that she was doing good. Making a positive difference with the lessons that the red room had taught her.

It took months for Natasha to regain her confidence in herself. She started questioning everything that she thought she believed. With constant and steady reassurance from Nyx. Natasha slowly regained her purposes.

That included her dedicating more of her time with the Avengers.

She started spending a larger portion of her time at the Tower to be close to the team while still having the Banner angle going. She also had, to keep an eye on Rogers.

Apparently, the Winter Soldier is in fact James Barnes or better known as Bucky. This was another point of contention with Rogers that I had harbored.

Nat had told me of her experiences in the red room over the years. That included a few of her interactions with the Soldier.

Natasha feared him, that was plain to see. But refused to tell me why. Her hesitation was enough for me to already be wary of the guy. Natasha isn’t afraid of anyone.

While Rogers came and went from the tower on his search for Barnes with his puppet Wilson.

Natasha refused to add any new detail or leads to Rogers’s search. Nat knew that Barnes had killed Tony’s parents. Nat and Rogers had found out at the same time while talking to Zola.

Steve had told Natasha that he would be the one to tell Stark.

Which reassured her.

Nat never really had a good history with Stark. A large portion of the animosity was due to the mission Natasha was conducting when they first met. She was undercover as a legal aid turned assistant at SI. The smoke and mirror routine that Fury demanded to be done didn’t win her any favors with Stark.

The profile, that was submitted under Nat’s name was a joke.

Another tool for Fury to use to hook Stark in.

I believe that Fury forgets that not everyone needs to be manipulated in order for them to perform tasks or agree to certain things.

Fury has a problem; he looks at everything and everyone as pieces that need to be moved to the next stage. Withholding all of the information and only hinting.

With a frustrated growl Nyx pushes back.

Nyx is coming up empty with her search. But she is recognizing a certain coding pattern a within the web.

Friday. Stark’s work has a particular flow to it.

But why would Friday scrub the web on all information related to the witch.

An AI wouldn’t do it on its own. It has to be because she was ordered to perform the cleanse. And Nyx knows for a fact that there are four people with that level of access to order such a task. Stark, Potts, Rhodes and Rogers.

Potts & Rhodes would rather send Maximoff to prison than protect her.

Stark had already done his part with providing PR and protection from Ultron. But would he go further…

Rogers definitely would. Wanda is a delicate flower in his mind.

The lot of them needs phycological help if they truly believe that woman is a delicate little girl.

Nyx did get a few leads.

With Sokovia still in the process of rebuilding. The government intelligence agency of the country has been under attack from outside intelligence hackers.

But the local government had started investigating rumors surrounding Strucker known base.

Locals had been afraid for years but once Strucker was known to be dead, they slowly started opening up.

What information that is found in the system is corrupt and will take time to decode.

And take a lot more skill than Nyx has.

She’ll have to direct the material to the DEMI’s teach expert.

Moments later, Nyx sends the compressed files off to Sparks. The DEMI’s techie. Along with a list of specific items to dig into.

· What are the limitations of Wanda’s Mind Powers?

· The illusions are a known component. What else can she do to one’s mind?

· What are the limitations on her telekinesis?

· Are there any known ways to block the mind power?

· How close does she have to be to her target?

· What is shown in her psych eval?

· Where are her mission reports with Hydra? What do they include?

· Doctor records, from the experimentations?

· How did she learn her skills?

· How long has she had the powers?

· Does she have a known history of violence?

· Family history?

· Find me all recent activity on the Avengers. Specifically, Rogers and Maximoff. Start tracking Natasha Romanov’s location 24 hours a day.

· Find me a loop-hole for Stark’s AI, Friday.

· Wiretap the Avenger’s phone and data activity

· Money coming in and out of the compound

This list should get the IT data techs busy.

Nyx makes herself an additional list for herself and Samson:

· Schedule meeting with Stark & Rhodes. Determine their level of involvement with the witch. Gain insight into her powers and personality.

· Start surveillance on Natasha.

· Begin surveillance on Wanda once the range of her power has been determined.

· Discuss counter measure

· Power suppression options

· Determine who Wanda’s alias are

· Contact Clint to determine if he has noticed any behavioral differences with Natasha

And so, it begins.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x oc #dark wanda maximoff #marvel #steve rogers bashing #hurt natasha romanoff

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samwellwinchesterthebrave · 2 years

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Okay I binge watched Dragon Age Absolution and some thoughts under the cut for spoilers

Okay, I highly enjoyed this. All of the characters are amazing but Qwydion is my favorite. I really hope that wasn't actually Fairbanks from dai because I will be very sad. He seemed a good man in dai.

I loved all the twists and betrayals. It was interesting seeing all these threads and how they intersected. I did not suspect Hira at all.

Lacklon and Roland have the cutest tension throughout the whole show and I cheered when Lacklon finally dragged Roland in for a kiss. That was adorable.

Rezaren was a brilliant villain. He had the type of mindset that so mamy people have. They act kinder and nicer when they're getting their way but as soon as they're balked, they turn nasty and show the undersides of their beliefs. He may have felt Neb and Miriam were siblings but as soon as they showed minds of their own, Rezaren saw them as things, as property again. And I do appreciate that he was a villain to the end.

Tassia is such a good character. It's delightful seeing a character who could be classified as lawful good working for the villain. I feel bad for her, especially for her knowing the depths of blood magic Rezaren stooped to. She looked like she was going to vomit when she saw the dead magister. Tbh, I thought Tassia was going to be the one to kill him because of the blood magic.

The view of the Gallows at the end really drives home how utterly and viscerally miserable and terrifying it is. For me, there was buffer in the game because you don't see the full Gallows. You hear about it, you read lore files about it, but it never gets driven home how truly terrible the place looks. That shot did it.

I had thought, when Hira first mentioned Kirkwall, that her contact was Varric. Of course, clearly not him. When they mentioned the Crimson Knight, I thought Samson. But hearing the female voice at the end, and knowing the speaker has a massive grudge against Tevinter, I think it's Calpernia.

I'm really excited to see what happens in the next season. I hope we get one.

Also, the sheer amount of times Matthew Mercer voiced a character in this lmao

#sam rambles #dragon age absolution

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scrapyardboyfriends · 1 year

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I miss friendships like Adam and Aaron because they felt like actual friends, though I think the show kind of got lucky because of Adam and Danny’s close friendship, and also Danny seems to have the best on-screen chemistry (platonic or romantic) with actors he is close or friends with in real life (I’ve noticed it with Robron too). We don’t really see that with some of the younger characters as much and imo it comes down to writing mainly, but also acting with some of the characters.

They definitely lucked out with Danny and Adam, though they became friends after they met each other on set. So I guess that could happen for the other kids too. It did with Izzy and Rosie because they came in around the same time so early Gabby and Liv friendship scenes did feel really natural.

In general the teen groups these days are just not as well developed as they were in the past. I mean I think part of the reason the teens don't land as well for me is probably because I'm getting older and more disconnected from that age but I feel like the writers probably are too. I feel like a lot of the writers have been there forever so the average age is probably older now. I think they really struggle with writing modern teens, especially when it gets into the social media area. All of the cyber bullying type stories or anything where all they do is stare at their phones doesn't really work when we're not seeing it. I feel like when April had her whole story we maybe saw one or two posts rather than getting to see things pop up on screen around her like they do in a lot of teen shows these days (or any shows).

Another thing that today's teens really suffer from is a lack of screen time, even when they have bigger stories. For example, in Aaron's first full year, he was in 144 episodes and that wasn't even his coming out story. That started a little towards the end of the year but the bulk of that was in 2010, when he was in 153 episodes. Contrast that to Arthur who was in 26 episodes last year and 28 so far this year and Marshall who has had a more dramatic coming out story with angst but he’s only been in 26 episodes. Cathy who has had a supposedly big story this year that technically was starting at the end of last year has only been in 30 and 27 episodes respectively. And those are the characters with actual story. Even Samson who technically had a big story too was only in 49 episodes last year and only 19 so far this year.

Most of these kids still feel like blank slates because we just don’t see them often enough, not now and not when they were kids either. I mean Robert and Andy were in 57/58 episodes in 1998 when they were 11/12 years old. That’s more episodes than the teens with stories now. Because we just don’t see families together anymore. We don’t see everyday life anymore. The kids just disappear. I mean Angel and Elliot for example haven’t been in more than 6 episodes a year since 2019. Yet Angelica is supposed to be maybe killed in a car crash next week?! I mean care slightly cause I care about Nicola and Jimmy and Angel once had a cute interaction with Robert but otherwise she’s just some random kid we’ve never seen. There's no time for them to be developed as characters with an actual sense of identity or a consistent dynamic with their family and peers. For example, they were building the Robert/Andy dynamic over the course of many years and it remained consistent and layered upon each new thing. These days something will happen like Arthur bullying Archie and then it'll just be dropped entirely and forgotten about (I know that was partially due to Covid but also it was never once mentioned again)

And then there’s the fact that most of this current crop of teens were cast as young children, aside from Marshall. I mean April is still pretty good but she also gets slightly more screen time so she’s slightly more developed as a character and actress. But the rest of these kids…I mean Amelia was great as a precocious child but struggles carrying a bigger dramatic story. Arthur was fine as a little kid saying the odd line or two but his line readings are bit more awkward now. I do think he would have been helped if they’d really tried to get a quality teen actor to play Marshall but Max Fletcher doesn’t really cut it. So it’s just awkward playing against awkward. I mean you’d think the twins who are twins in real life would have more on screen sibling chemistry but…not really. Of course Heath also barely exists as a character so it’s not like they have much to work with.

The other thing I feel like hurts them is that I feel like the previous teen groups were a lot more independent. I do think that could still happen with the Arthur/Marshall/April/Cathy/Heath/Sometimes Elliot group because they're still a bit younger and the Amelia/Samson/Noah group is a bit more independent because they're older. But I feel like Aaron/Adam/Vic/Holly/Daz/Scarlett etc were just running around on their own a lot, in part because their family situations weren't always the best. I mean Vic was being looked after by Andy a lot of the time and Aaron obviously had all his Chas issues and then just had Paddy who was more friend than parent a lot of the time. Adam/Holly/Hannah had a more stable home life but Adam had already left school and was working on the farm. Holly had her art classes at college. Vic and Amy worked at the B&B. Aaron worked at the garage. I feel like we just saw them on their own a lot more doing more grown up things or more independent things without having parents constantly tracking them down and fussing over them. Of course it's important for them to have family dynamics too but it's also important for them to build relationships with each other independently and I feel like that's lacking a bit, also due to the extreme lack of screen time.

So yeah, lack of screen time, lack of every day life to develop the family units and sibling dynamics, actors who were cast very young with no idea if they'd be able to carry bigger stories now and reluctance to recast, writers that feel out of touch with today's teens and then you know the general terribleness of the overall direction of the show right now. It's sad because with so many kids who have grown up in the village entering their teens right now, there could be a lot of good content for them but they really don't do enough with them.

#emmerdale complaints corner

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jackzillanyanut8008 · 1 year

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The Last Of Us Part 3: Fan Write (Part 10)

Author’s Note:

This fan write of the 3rd addition to The Last Of Us franchise is completely fan made, I own zero rights to the game, tv show, or merchandise. Any and all properties of this franchise are owned by Naughty Dog Studios, Sony Computer Entertainment, Sony Interactive Entertainment, and PlayStation Studios. And of course, please support both the previous games, as well as the HBO series.

-Stone CL Williams

PS: Thank you to those of you who've read this Fan Write up to this point, I never intended on this being a prolonged thing but here we are. So thanks for reading!

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Chapter 28: A Forgotten Fury

Samson sat in his room, looking at the portrait of his father as he took a heaping gulp of vodka down his throat. “Dad… Wherever the fuck you are… Could you give me a sign?” he whispers to himself, hoping the painting would spring to life and give him his much needed wisdom, but nothing happens.

Suddenly, Pito enters his room, panting repeatedly like a rabid dog. “Samson… Shiva and Gunji were attacked… the slaves escaped… they-” he says panting before Sam turns around “Where’s Shiva?” he says, a bit of worry in his voice. Pito shakes his head before getting pushed out of the way by Samson.

No no no no no no Sam mutters in his head as he rushes to the infirmary. He kicks in the door and almost falls at the sight of his comrades.

Gunji had two stab wounds in his stomach, and another on his left cheek.

Then he looked at his beloved Shiva and felt his stomach drop to his feet. “She’s alive but she has sustained major physical trauma and won’t recover for a long time” a medic says as she looks at the War Queen in pity.

Samson sits next to his wife, caressing her bandaged head before softly crying into his hand…

Back in Jackson, Ellie struggles to play her guitar with her prosthetic fingers she got from Dina. She was making progress, sort of. She looks out from Dina’s porch and sees Abby walk up onto the porch “For a chick with two missing fingers, you’re not half bad” she says as she holds up a bottle of booze and sits down. “Did any of the wolves play any instruments? Or were you all too strict and rugged for such pompous pleasantries” Ellie asks jokingly as she takes a swig of the brew, and wincing at the taste of it. Abby laughs and grabs the bottle from her “Now that you mention it, a friend of mine used to. Manny” she says, looking at the bottle. “Whatever happened to him anyhow? I never ran into him” Ellie says as she puts the guitar down. Abby looks out into the dark streets of Jackson and lets out a sigh “He got his head blown off trying to help me get Tommy” she says as she lifts up her glass. “Godspeed you son of a bitch” Abby toasts before taking a swig and leaning back in the chair.

“I better get inside, Dina says I’m on baby duty tonight” Ellie says as she gets up. Abby lets out a chuckle “From gutting Seraphites to changing diapers, oh how modernity changes us” she says jokingly. Ellie lets out a soft laugh before heading inside, “Wait a minute Ellie” Abby says before she shuts the door

“Yeah, what is it?” Ellie asks

Chapter 29: Making Peace for the Better

Abby freezes up for a minute before clearing her throat. “Why did you spare me back in Santa Barbara? I was right there, you could’ve gotten your vengeance… but you backed out” she says, scratching the back of her head nervously. Ellie lets out a sigh before walking back out and shutting the door “Before I spared you, I saw Joel. The night before he died” she begins as she and Abby sit down. “He wasn’t angry or mad, just… happy. I’ll admit Joel has done some stupid shit but killing your dad was probably the stupidest thing he ever did. I guess he kinda knew it was his time.” Ellie says as she looks out at the night sky.

Abby stares at the stars “Do you think those FO fuckers will come back? After everything we did?” she says worryingly. Ellie sits in silence before getting up “They’ll have to get through us to get to our people” she says as she looks at Abby and holds out her hand.

Abby is a little confused, but Ellie elaborates “Neither of us were right for what we did, but we can try to make up for it. Try to be better for those we care about” she says “So how’s about it Anderson? Are we even?”.

Abby lets out a snicker before shaking Ellie’s hand, “Sweet dreams Williams, tell Dina I said hi”.

Ellie laughs a little before giving Abby a thumbs up and shutting the door. Abby walks off into the night and heads home where Deacon and Lev are staying. Both were watching an old comedy movie from before the Outbreak, something about laser sword rings and a floating RV. The other two offer her to join them but Abby refuses, instead heading upstairs to get some much needed rest.

Deacon shrugs off Abby's refusal to join them in movie night and lets Deacon shrugs off Abby's refusal to join them in movie night and lets out a sigh. "What's up with you? You seem... oddly relaxed given everything that happened back in Colorado. Are you sure you're okay?" Lev asks as he eats a handful of popcorn. Deacon looks at him for a moment before letting out a snicker "It's nothing, just figured Abby would wanna hang out with us is all. Oh well, her loss I guess" he says, dismissing Lev's concern. Lev gives him a look of uncertainty before giving it a rest "If you need anyone to talk to about it, me and Abby are more than happy to hear you out D" He says as he gets up to leave. Deacon looks up at him "You too huh? Guess Sci-Fi Comedies are an acquired taste these days" he says as he turns off the tv and goes to bed "Goodnight Lev". Lev looks back at his friend and gives him a smile "Goodnight D, See you tomorrow".

Deacon looks at him for a moment before letting out a snicker "It's nothing, just figured Abby would wanna hang out with us is all. Oh well, her loss I guess" he says, dismissing Lev's concern.

Lev gives him a look of uncertainty before giving it a rest "If you need anyone to talk to about it, me and Abby are more than happy to hear you out D" He says as he gets up to leave.

Deacon looks up at him "You too huh? Guess Sci-Fi Comedies are an aquired taste these days" he says as he turns off the tv and goes to bed "Goodnight Lev".

Lev looks back at his friend and gives him a smile "Goodnight D, See you tomarrow".

(Sorry for taking so long to upload, between Easter and other stuff I've been pretty preoccupied. Also school, work, etc.)

#the last of us #abby the last of us #ellie tlou #lev tlou #tommy miller #joel miller #dina tlou #last of us fanfiction

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incorrectbandofbrothersquotes · 3 years

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Dear Heart - CH 12

Dick Winters x Melanie Davis

Summary: Melanie Davis is a nurse from North Carolina who has lived a sheltered life since her father died. Her father’s best friend, Colonel Sink, invites her to experience more as a regimental nurse for the 506th PIR of the 101st Airborne. She embarks on the adventure of a lifetime.

Tag list: @thoughpoppiesblow @primusk @itswormtrain @hesbuckcompton-baby If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Word Count: 5k (another doozy but omg a lot has to happen okay? they have to talk, Dick has to be a simp, it’s important to the plot)

A/N: Thank you again to @mercurygray for being a wonderful beta reader, as always <3

Warning(s): Descriptions of an assault

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Chapter 12 here we go!!

A warm spring began in Germany, welcoming the American invaders with its beautiful scenery and pleasant weather. Melanie wondered how people who lived in such a lovely place could have begun a war that was so terrible. The regiment came to a long stop in a town called Sturzelberg, where there was a hospital, and Melanie finally felt like a regular nurse again. She even got to change out of her OD’s and into her nursing uniform dress. It was wrinkled from the journey in her bag, rolled up at the bottom until she could wear it again. It was somewhat of a homecoming, though it seemed a different girl stepped into it. Not even a girl at all, really. A grown woman. A changed woman.

Her and Juliet’s billet had a mirror, so she took the opportunity to really look at herself for the first time in weeks. Though she was clean, she looked tired. She didn’t have much color to her face, and she had lost more weight. She frowned at her reflection, hearing her mother loud and clear in her mind. To her surprise, she voiced what she heard.

“Thin and pale,” she murmured. “That won’t do.”

Juliet looked up from her notebook. “I beg your pardon?”

Melanie did not reply. She was too busy pinching her cheeks along the bone, giving them a semblance of rosiness. It was an old trick, but a useful one. So was chewing one’s lips to make them red if one didn’t have any rouge, which was her next task.

“Mel, what the bloody hell are you doing?” Juliet demanded, getting to her feet.

“Making myself somewhat presentable,” Melanie answered. “Now that we’re back in relative comfort, I’ve got no excuse for walking around looking like a rag doll.”

Juliet scoffed in disbelief. Then she stood in front of Melanie, took her by the shoulders, and looked into her eyes, searching.

“What are you doing?” Melanie asked.

“I’m looking for Melanie Davis, I hope she’s still in there,” Juliet returned.

It occurred to Melanie that Juliet had only known the exhausted, wounded Melanie from weeks at war and no sleep. Already a little jaded from the amount of wounded who passed through. Of course she didn’t recognize the Melanie from before - who lived with constant reminders of femininity and vanity she’d had ingrained in her since childhood.

She rolled her eyes and dislodged herself from Juliet’s grip. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it’s me.”

“You’ve been through hell on Earth,” Juliet pointed out. “Who cares what you look like?”

Melanie hadn’t thought of it that way. And she had certainly not had many experiences of criticism being met with compassion. She didn’t always feel she deserved compassion - she was happy to give it to others but for herself? Perfection only. It was hitting her now what an impossible standard she was holding herself to.

“Oh, I must sound awfully vain,” Melanie sighed. “I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it if I prefer feeling feminine. I can’t believe how much I took for granted just having lipstick or nail polish.”

“Obviously, you can enjoy those things, but I cannot stand by and let you say that you ‘won’t do,’” Juliet replied. “You’re a beautiful woman, with or without lipstick.”

Melanie looked at the floor and fixed her clothes. “That’s very kind of you, thank you.”

She was unused to getting such compliments. Her mother had always fixated on Melanie’s looks, though she had never been insulting. It was always reassurance that she was pretty enough to “catch a husband.” But, as she had pointed out to herself, there was more to the world than all that. The war was still on. She had a job to do.

“Alright, I’m off to work,” she said. “It feels mighty fine to be saying that again.”

She forced herself to smile, putting all thoughts of her appearance behind her. She just needed to get back to a hospital and work with patients so she could start feeling like herself again. Juliet wished her luck, and then Melanie was off.

***

As they made their way deeper into Germany, Dick’s inner conflict deepened, too. Melanie’s condition, her moods and general demeanor, seemed to improve, while Lew seemed to get steadily worse. The day of the jump (which he was still a bit bitter to have missed, despite its outcome), when Dick had to tell his best friend about his demotion, he was disturbed by Nix’s non-reaction, followed by flippant remarks to disguise a frustration he clearly would not voice. Dick sought out the only person he felt he could talk to about his concerns - Melanie.

He went first to her billet. The day was drawing to a close, so he assumed she would be back by now from the hospital. Juliet opened the door and looked surprised to see him.

“Oh! Hello, Major,” she said.

“Is Melanie here?” he asked, getting right to the point.

“No, she hasn’t come back from the hospital yet,” she told him. “Is everything alright? Did you have something...important to tell her?”

She raised a knowing eyebrow at him and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. At this point, he wasn’t sure who was more invested in his relationship with Melanie - Nix or Juliet. He wondered what might have happened if she had been around to help orchestrate the Paris trip. For now, he let it slide.

“I just want to talk to her,” he said. “Thanks, though.”

“Worth a shot,” she said under her breath. “Well, let me know if we need to send out a search party.”

“Will do,” he said, amused. “See you later.”

She nodded in return and closed the door. Dick headed to the hospital. He looked forward to seeing Melanie - he always did. He just wished his friends would see that, and realize it was enough for now. There was enough understanding between them that they were pretty well aware of what they felt for each other. At least, Dick was sure he understood. But there was still a war, and that wasn’t really the place for romance.

By the time he arrived at the hospital, he had pushed his frustrations with his friends to the back of his mind. In the first ward, he found Melanie, in a chair beside a patient’s bed, a deck of cards between them on a tray, and laughter on her face. The patient pulled a card from his hand and laid it down, which made Melanie’s jaw drop.

“Another red three?” she gasped. “I think it’s very clear how this game is going to end.”

“You’ve still got a chance, Miss Melanie,” he replied through a thick Southern accent. “One good hand and you could turn this whole thing around.”

“Well, lucky for you, my hand isn’t anything to write home about,” she returned, frowning at it. “Draw your cards, Sergeant.”

He reached for the deck and picked up three cards, adding them to his hand. Dick watched the game play out for a moment - the sergeant discarded, Melanie drew two, then she discarded, and the sergeant drew again. All the while, Melanie talked to the man. He was missing his right leg up to the thigh - and a fleeting image of Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye passed through Dick’s mind. But judging by this soldier’s attitude, no one would have guessed anything was the matter with him. The way he smiled and chuckled at Melanie’s praise, he didn’t seem to notice that he was even in a hospital bed.

Dick’s heart was warmed by the sight. Melanie really was back to her old self. She was off duty, and yet she sat with a man she didn’t know to bring him some small comfort. A simple card game. A chance for him to feel normal again, even for a few moments. Dick wasn’t sure which he admired more - her selflessness or how happy she looked to be where she was. The grin on her face gave away that she considered it no trouble to play a game with a patient when her rounds were over. She was genuinely glad to do it. Dick hoped Toye and Guarnere had similarly wonderful nurses wherever they were.

“A canasta already?” she cried as Dick approached. “If you go out on me with all this in my hand, Sergeant, I’ll be finished for sure!”

She discarded and then finally, she looked up. She caught Dick’s eye as he took some tentative steps toward her, hesitant to interrupt. But she beamed at him, so he assumed he was welcome.

“Good evening, Dick,” she said kindly.

The sergeant turned and saw Dick, so he offered a quick salute. “Good evening, sir,”

“Good evening,” Dick returned politely. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Not at all,” Melanie assured him. “Dick, this is Sergeant Samson - the finest canasta player in the US Army. Sergeant, this is Major Winters.” The two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Then she met Dick’s gaze again. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, and found himself regretting coming at all. She was busy, and he felt foolish for disrupting her moment of joy. “I can come back later, though -”

“Actually, sir, I’m about ready for some sleep if Miss Melanie will let me off the hook,” Samson said.

She cast him a playful look. “I see how you operate, Samson. Quit while you’re ahead, that way you don’t lose.”

He laughed, a bit bashful at her teasing, but she collected the cards all the same, and set them aside.

“We’ll play again tomorrow if you like,” she offered.

“Of course,” he returned. “That is, if you enjoy losing that much!”

She feigned offense while he chuckled some more. Then she fluffed his pillows and pulled the blankets up to his chest. Dick watched and felt a familiar stir in his heart of affection for her. She was the most beautiful person he had ever had the pleasure of knowing - and that did not just apply to her pretty face. Melanie was a sweet soul, a nurturing heart, and a bright mind. She was a high quality person. And tiny moments like this showed that to him more than anything.

“Can I get you anything else before I go?” she offered Samson.

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

“Good night, Sergeant,” she said.

“Good night, ma’am, sir.”

Dick nodded in acknowledgement before offering Melanie his arm, which she took, and they left the ward together. It struck him that her touch no longer made him so nervous. It thrilled him - even after knowing each other for years - but it was comfortable now. As if the crook of his arm was made for her hand. It was natural.

“Is everything alright, Dick?” she asked as they stepped outside. “You seem troubled.”

He didn’t consider himself a particularly emotive person, but Melanie never failed to pick up on what he was feeling. Especially when he needed her.

“It’s Nix,” he said. “His drinking...it’s become such a problem up at regiment that he was demoted today. When I told him that, he didn’t even seem to care.”

Melanie’s brows furrowed and she looked thoughtfully ahead. “I’m sorry to hear that. Lewis is a good man and a fine officer. I would have thought he’d be more invested.”

“Well, in his defense, he’d just come back from that disaster of a jump,” Dick said.

“What disaster of a jump?” she wondered.

He told her what Nix had relayed to him - that the troopers didn’t even make it out of the plane. The CO was killed. Nix and just a handful of others survived out of sheer luck.

“Oh, how awful,” she said, heartbroken.

There really could be no moment between them where the war did not rear its ugly head, Dick thought bitterly. No matter what, there was some news of tragedy. Death sank its teeth into even a simple evening stroll. He decided to steer the conversation back to its original subject.

“Seeing Lew like this just has me worried,” he said. “I feel like he’s close to spiraling, and I don’t have a clue what to do. I thought it was just a bad habit, but now...” he trailed off, unsure what to call his friend’s profound issue.

“I’m afraid there isn’t much you can do,” Melanie told him. “Nix is...troubled, and he has his coping mechanism. Unless he wants to quit drinking, there’s nothing you - or anybody - can do to stop him from picking that bottle up again.”

Once again, he was being told to do nothing - frustrating and impossible advice. He had hoped for more from her.

“What you can do,” she went on, and he felt a glimmer of hope again. “Is make yourself available to him. Let him know - subtly, of course - that you’re ready if and when he’ll need you. Eventually, it will come to a head, and he’ll need people in his corner that he can truly rely on.”

“It still sounds like doing nothing,” he said, defeated.

“I know you’re a man of action, Dick, but this will take patience,” she returned, understanding.

He didn’t answer right away, still a bit frustrated. He also took a moment to look at her. The dim twilight was flattering on her skin. A cool breeze made her flyaway hairs stir around her head. She looked a bit like a painting with the Bavarian backdrop behind her. It struck him again how much he loved her. She met his gaze.

“Dick?”

He shook his head to clear it, though appreciating her beauty had eased some of his irritation about Nix.

“Sorry,” he said. “You look nice tonight, that’s all.”

“Thank you,” she said, blushing lightly. “I’m feeling much better now that we’ve got more food and I’m back in a hospital.”

He had noticed her improvement over the past few days. Her cheeks were rounding out again, and she didn’t look so tired. Her bruises were gone, too.

“I feel a bit silly,” she admitted. “I was fussing over how I looked when we first got here because I didn’t have lipstick or nail polish. What a ridiculous thing to worry about.”

Melanie always looked natural, so he tried to remember the last time he saw her looking nicer than usual. It was Paris. Which was beginning to feel decades in the past instead of just months.

“It’s not ridiculous,” he assured her. “Silly, I’ll give you, but ridiculous is a strong word.”

“Alright, silly it is then,” she teased back with a smile, and he ached at how much he adored it.

They reached her billet, stopped outside the door, and faced each other.

“This takes me back,” she said. “All the way to Aldbourne.”

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I don’t think I’d recognize those two kids.”

“Me neither,” she chuckled. “So much has happened. But, I…”

He looked expectantly at her as she trailed off and gathered her thoughts. Her brow furrowed, which told him she was searching for the right words.

“I am so grateful we’re still friends,” she said. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I could have made it this far.”

It was his turn to get flustered. For a moment, he stood there silently, a bit lost for words. It was such an honest and wonderful thing to say. How could he return that sentiment?

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I’m grateful too, Mel,” he said, feeling the understatement like an itch on his skin. “Really.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said, smiling. “On that pleasant note, shall we say goodnight? Unless there’s anything else?”

He shook his head. “Thanks for listening. As always.”

They said goodnight, and she went inside, no doubt to chat to Juliet before climbing into bed and settling in. Dick wanted only for Melanie to be safe and comfortable, especially after everything she’d been through. He hoped that after the war, she could end her days in his arms instead of alone, he could tell her plainly how much she meant to him, and that he could be her true refuge. Until then, his mind went to lipstick and nail polish…

The following day, on his way to HQ, he found some. An abandoned drug store sat on the intersection he crossed, and there were a few enlisted men already scrounging around inside, claiming whatever they could find. He normally wasn’t one for taking souvenirs, but he was more compelled by the idea of doing something nice for Melanie. So he stepped through the kicked in door and looked around. The makeup aisle had already been pretty thoroughly picked over - broken bottles and compacts littered the floor, but one last untouched gold tube on the shelf caught his eye. A red lipstick. He took it.

He glanced around for nail polish too, but the only color left was a dark purple, which he could not for the life of him imagine Melanie wearing. The lipstick would have to do.

He intended on giving it to her that day, but he got caught up in several different briefings, which evidently could not be postponed. So many that he sent Zielinski to the hospital with a message asking Melanie to join him in his office for dinner. They hadn’t had significant time together in much too long, and he missed it. So he was grateful when she accepted and agreed to meet him at eight o’clock.

Dick got worried when eight-fifteen came and went. He checked his watch for the tenth time in the last sixty seconds and sighed, fearing that Melanie had forgotten him. Or worse, something was terribly wrong at the hospital, and she was enduring further tragedy. Finally, when he was about ready to go looking for her himself, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” he called.

To his great relief, Melanie walked through the door, closing it softly behind her. She looked a bit sheepish as she came closer.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Dick,” she said. “Sergeant Samson and I were just wrapping up.”

“More canasta?” he asked.

She nodded. “It’s his favorite game. He used to play it with his sisters back home. He’s got three of them.”

“Three sisters, wow,” he remarked. “No brothers?”

“One,” she said sadly. “But he was killed on Guadalcanal.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “But I’m impressed with you. You really get to know the men you’re treating.”

“I certainly try,” she said. “Hospitals can often feel overly clinical and cold. Doctors don’t have much time to spend with patients, and nurses can get overwhelmed. I don’t want the patients to mistake that for not caring.”

Dick had met very few people who had the emotional capability to invest so much in others. For a fleeting moment, he likened Melanie to a priest or pastor, with a flock of people to look after, but what she did was different. She wasn’t a spiritual guide or advisor. She was a simple comfort. A place to tell someone about your favorite game or your siblings or your life story. A generous ear to listen to you talk about something besides your pain.

“That’s very sweet of you,” he told her, keeping the true depth of it to himself.

She took a seat across from him at his desk, and they had dinner together. At first, she asked mostly about him and how he was doing, but he eventually turned it around. He let her talk about the patients she’d met at this hospital, and she shared little tidbits of their lives. She wasn’t burdened by it, either. In each one, she found something of interest, worth remembering and holding onto. He listened, but he knew he’d never be able to recall everything the way she did. But he hoped he helped by doing a little bit of what she did for others, for her.

When they finished eating, she sat back with a satisfied smile. He loved that look on her face and he couldn’t help but smile a bit himself. To continue that momentum, he went into his desk and pulled out his gift for her. He didn’t have a box or anything this time, so it wasn’t nearly as big as the gift of the dress, but he hoped she’d still appreciate it.

“I got something for you,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

He placed the tube of lipstick on the desk as her mouth fell open. But a sparkle in her eyes told him it was a delighted sort of shock.

“Where did you get this?” she gasped. She picked it up and examined it, as if not quite believing it was real.

“There’s a drug store in town that’s...no longer in operation,” he explained. He still didn’t love that he’d technically stolen it, but he wouldn’t let her know. “I think every man in the regiment got something for the women in his life. And you mentioned wanting some.”

“And you remembered?” she wondered.

“Sure I did,” he replied with a chuckle.

“How kind of you,” she said, her grin widening. “I can’t wait to use it! Thank you so much!”

Did anything feel better than making her happy? Dick wasn’t sure. The warmth in his chest told him there was nothing. It didn’t matter that he’d taken it by looting. For that smile, he was prepared to commit highway robbery.

“You’re welcome,” he returned.

He watched her gaze at the items in her hand, a pensive, contemplative expression coming over her features. There was something more she wanted to say. Knowing her, she would shake her head, smile again, and mumble “never mind” mostly to herself before moving on. He hoped she wouldn’t, so he remained silent, giving her the space to work through what she was thinking.

“It seems silly to say this over something so small,” she began, her voice soft, so he had to lean closer in order to hear. “But may I share something with you?”

“Of course,” he assured her, though the question made him nervous.

He tried to think of what could make her so serious all of a sudden, but nothing immediately came to mind. A split second of doubt came over him that she was going to confess she had met someone else because she was tired of waiting for him. But that seemed like a rather outlandish conclusion to jump to. He slowed down his thoughts and focused on her.

“I know you’ve been wondering about what caused me to leave the hospital in Bastogne and come to the front lines,” she began. “And I haven’t been able to tell you. I’m sorry.”

He was still curious, but he certainly didn’t want her to feel like she had to talk about that just because of a lipstick he didn’t even pay for.

“You don’t have to-”

“Please,” she cut across him. “Let me get this out before I lose my nerve.”

“Take your time,” he said gently.

She nodded and took a deep breath. Tears pricked her eyes as she released it, slow and shaky. He mentally braced himself to hear the worst.

“Before the hospital was bombed, Terry...made me an offer,” she continued. “For a life together after the war. He told me he had always had feelings for me and basically that he wanted to marry me.�� She ran the fingers on her right hand over the ring finger of her left.

“Naturally, I refused,” she went on. “I wasn’t in love with him.” She paused there, toying with the lipstick tube, as if debating adding something onto that sentence, but decided against it. “I thought my answer was clear, even before the bombing. But the day I was supposed to return to work, he came to my room.”

She stopped again, chewing her bottom lip before swallowing hard.

“He’d had a bit to drink,” she said. “He wasn’t out of control, but I could smell it when he got close to me. He proposed again. I refused him. He shouted at me that he loved me. He said he couldn’t bear the thought of me with another man. And that’s when he started to throw things.”

Beads of sweat appeared on her brow and hairline. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, undeterred, though trembling. She rubbed her hand against the fabric of her dress to dry it off.

“I pleaded with him to stop, but he grabbed me by my face,” she said. “Painfully. Then he looked me in the eyes and threatened to...crush my skull against the vanity, to use his words.”

She looked at him, and suddenly, she halted and met his gaze.

“Am I upsetting you?” she asked.

If he didn’t know her better, he would have thought she was being sarcastic - trying to remind him just who really had been hurt here, but she wasn’t. She was genuinely concerned about him in a moment like this. Her tone, apologetic.

Dick’s anger had risen from a simmer to a boil. He’d been trying to maintain composure as she spoke. He did not want her to lose her nerve by seeing him get agitated, but he couldn’t help the set of his jaw. He regretted not fighting Clarke when he’d had the chance because maybe this might not have happened. It’s harder to throw things and grab people with broken fingers, after all. He shook his head and took a deep breath to calm down, intentionally relaxing every muscle in his face.

“I’m fine, Mel,” he lied. “Please, go on.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, but did not protest.

“I tried to resist,” she continued. “But then he grabbed me by the throat. If he said anything else at that point, I didn’t hear. I was blacking out quickly. And for a moment, I was afraid...I was so afraid I was going to die.”

She choked on the last word, and she swiped the tear that leaked onto her cheek away quickly. He kept his gaze fixed on her face, watching her lip quiver. He knew it was ridiculous, but overwhelming guilt sank its claws into his heart. He should have been there to defend her. He should have warned Colonel Sink about Terry. He should have done something. Even now, he wished he could protect her from the very memory of it.

“I don’t know what came over me,” she said. “But somehow I found the strength to get away. I remember striking him, but not much else. That was when Colonel Sink showed up. And I begged him to let me go...well, anywhere that wasn’t the hospital. He suggested the Bois Jacques, and I agreed.”

He sat with it a moment, impressed at her resilience, and a little relieved that nothing worse had happened - and he had imagined much worse, especially when she said the altercation had taken place in her bedroom. But she got away. She rescued herself. There was something to be said for that.

“I’m so sorry you went through that, Mel,” he said. “You were very brave.”

“Please don’t flatter me, Dick,” she replied. “Dogs have enough courage to fight back when attacked. I acted on instinct.”

“Even so, you did well,” he insisted. He hesitated asking his next question, unsure how she might take it or if she was receptive to being questioned at all.

“Why didn’t you report him?” he asked, feeling desperate. “That’s a court martial offense, assaulting a fellow officer.”

“Colonel Sink offered to do the paperwork, but I asked him not to,” she told him. “There’s no point, really. It would be my word against his and that rarely goes well for a woman.”

Dick carefully disguised his distaste for that answer. He wasn’t frustrated by Melanie, but that she was right.

“Besides,” she said. “He didn’t really do anything. He just frightened me, that’s all.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” he returned. “He nearly killed you.”

She shrugged, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands, which were in her lap now, fidgeting with the lipstick tube, which made a soft pop each time she opened or closed it.

“You may think you’re being kind by showing him mercy, Mel,” he said. “But Terry should be at the least reprimanded for what he’s done. I know it’s hard, but you’re brave enough to -”

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

“Dick, stop it!” she cried, looking desperately at him. “I’m not brave or strong or kind or anything else! I’m scared, alright?! I didn’t report Terry because I’m terrified that he will find me again! And how much worse would it be if he had nothing to lose?! It isn’t mercy, it’s fear!”

She lowered her eyes to the floor and tried to draw in a breath. It was shallow and shaky, catching on the lump in her throat. He couldn’t stand that he was not holding her. So he got to his feet, crossed to the other side of his desk, stood before her, and held out his hand. She looked at it, then up at his face, before placing her fingers in his palm. He helped her to stand. Then, he gathered her up in his arms. Her forehead found a resting place on his chest, and she nuzzled into him. They fit together like puzzle pieces.

“I’m sorry, Melanie,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m so sorry.” When she only nodded, he continued. “You’re safe now.”

“Yes,” she said softly into his chest. “Yes, I know.”

He made a silent promise to himself and her. From here on out, he would be her personal shield. No one deserved what she had endured, but she especially didn’t. This woman, who was all heart and grace and goodness. He would protect her with everything he had.

#band of brothers #dick winters #melanie jo davis #richard winters #dick winters x ofc #band of brothers fanfiction #richard winters x ofc #hbo war #Easy Company #dick winters fic #dear heart series

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angellesword · 3 years

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SAVE ME | KTH (14)

Summary: You were determined to kill yourself, but what would happen when instead of ending your life, you ended up summoning the devil of death?

Alternatively:

The Devil: I’m here to ruin you, I’m here to save you.

Genre: Demon au, e2l, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Devil!Taehyung x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: stabbing (this is the last time promise) kissing, oral sex (m. receiving.)

Note: Guys if you can, please listen to Samson by Regina Spektor while reading this update.

SERIES: CHAPTER 13 | FINAL CHAPTER (15)

"No. It's not enough."

His response was like a broken record, it kept playing inside your head.

It was too much—too painful.

You had to leave now. You had to leave before your tears started to fall.

It was too late.

Hot tears cascaded down your face as you pushed him away, refusing to be caged any longer.

You didn't know if he saw you cry.

Maybe he did.

Maybe that's the reason why he tried to stop you from leaving.

"It will never be enough." He paused for a second just to swallow thickly, "because kissing you isn't greed in the first place."

It worked.

You halted your steps, slowly turning to face him.

When you looked at him a few breaths ago, you felt like you were being burnt.

You even turned into ashes.

However, that feeling changed when he brought out his phone. He was talking to his virtual assistant while looking directly at you.

"Hey PD-nim," he started.

You and Taehyung were only five feet away from each other.

"What does it mean when someone is always in your thoughts? When you're sad when she's sad? When you have this...strong desire to touch her—no." He shook his head as if the last thing he uttered was completely wrong.

"I mean...it's fine if I can't always hug her or hold her hand. I guess I just want to be near her...to feel the comfort and warmth she's emitting,"

Taehyung chuckled lightly. His smile was big, eyes crinkling.

"I also want to stay alive," his eyes suddenly darkened, causing your heart to sink.

"It's not because I want to save myself..."

You felt like you couldn't breathe as you waited for the next words he's about to say.

"But because I want to protect her."

Again, you turned into ashes—

"I'm one hundred percent sure that feeling is called love," the virtual assistant answered.

—but like a phoenix, you rose again.

"You are in love with her."

Taehyung wasted no time when he heard PD-nim's response.

He closed the gap between you two. The fire in his eyes was scorching, it was the only thing that could melt your cold, cold heart.

"Our first kiss doesn't mean greed," Taehyung cupped both of your cheeks.

He was done pretending. He was done trying to be logical.

It was time to admit the truth.

"It means love."

When he said this, you felt like the missing piece of the puzzle was finally found, completing the gap in your heart.

Everything made sense now.

Taehyung still needed to tempt people because he didn't satisfy his capital vice in the first place.

Greed was a sin.

Loving you was redemption.

Unfortunately, he couldn't be saved by the love he felt for you.

Love was a good thing and Taehyung was evil.

His sole purpose in this world was to spread hatred and bitter meanings.

He wouldn't survive by doing good deeds.

"Y-You know..." Of course you would stutter just as when you thought you could finally voice out what you felt.

Regardless of this, you still tried to speak.

"I was hesitating to tell you how I feel about you." You weren't lying.

When you realized what Taehyung had done to the girl at the flower shop, you thought that maybe you made a mistake.

Perhaps you didn't have feelings for him. Maybe you were just caught up with how perfect his mouth felt when it was crashing against yours, or maybe, just maybe, you were deceived by him again.

You were in denial.

You knew you weren't perfect. You had hurt so many people before—even now.

But it was all unintentional.

Taehyung was the only one who hurt people deliberately.

You hated this about him.

But as said, his confession changed your mindset.

Some people were forced to do things they didn't want to do because they needed to survive.

You knew this all along; however, you didn't fully understand it.

The missing puzzle you were talking about was what made you understand.

Some people were forced to do things they didn't want to do because they needed to survive, and that's okay. We just have to find grace with our decision.

"But you made it so easy, you know?" You weren't stuttering anymore. You even found the courage to also caress his cheeks.

Taehyung closed his eyes, relishing your soft touch.

"How can I deny my own feelings when the one who isn't supposed to feel anything sincerely admitted what he feels for me?"

Taehyung pouted his lips.

"I've been in this world since the beginning of time, love." He was saying that he saw how things started and ended.

He knew that the main reason why people were miserable was because they refused to accept things as they were.

They lied, always underestimating or overestimating things.

Taehyung didn't want to repeat the mistakes of people. He rather named his emotions than lose you for not doing it when he had the chance.

"I asked this device—" he raised his phone in the air "—to tell you how I feel because I thought you won't believe a devil like me."

You nodded in understanding. You were blinded by anger just a short while ago.

You really believed that he wanted to hurt people for fun.

"But I do, okay? I do love you and it scares me."

You could see in his eyes that he was truly frightened.

You bit your lip, allowing him to explain further.

"I'm not scared of loving you even if it's new to me. What frightens me is your reaction. I-I have no idea if you're going to accept me..."

It hurt when he looked away from you.

"Tae, listen to me..." You gently grabbed his chin, urging him to look at you.

"We're both scared. As in hella terrified." You laughed as you told him that Ji-hyo was actually the one who convinced you to talk to him.

Your best friend claimed that running away wouldn't do you any good, but for you, running away from your problem was easier. You could play thousands of scenarios inside your head, wondering what could have been if you only confronted him.

Facing your problem was the complete opposite of this. When you confronted him, there would only be one answer.

The answer was final. It couldn't be twisted. You wouldn't be allowed to imagine scenarios in your head because you already knew the right answer.

You wouldn't be able to escape it even if you wanted to. At least with the thousand scenarios, you could still change it if it turned out that you didn't like how it was playing inside your fucked up head.

But you were glad.

You were glad that you decided to face your dilemma.

You were glad that you were now nodding your head as Taehyung asked if he could kiss you.

"You don't have to ask, silly." You grabbed his face, initiating the kiss.

Taehyung giggled in between the intimate act.

He liked this feeling better. He liked kissing you in this narrow alley. He liked kissing you now that he was free.

The only thing he didn't like was when the counter pager inside your pocket buzzed, indicating that the dumplings you ordered were now ready to be picked up.

"Damn," Taehyung's nose wrinkled right after you pulled away from the kiss. "I wanna keep kissing you."

He was acting like a child, making you laugh.

"You can kiss me later." You winked at him as you pulled him towards the dumpling store.

You and Taehyung ended up eating one dozens of mandu while watching some boring netflix show.

You called it boring since you weren't really paying attention. Your mind (and heart) were busy fooling around with Taehyung.

"You feel so good," Taehyung grunted, eyes darkening as he watched you suck him off.

You were kneeling between his legs, looking so sexy and small. He swore his hard cock was bigger than your face.

You enjoyed rubbing it on your cheek before wrapping your tiny hands around his shaft.

You gave him a few pumps before taking him in your sweet, sweet mouth.

Taehyung kept his hands at the back of his head, allowing you to take control.

This was already so difficult for him. Touching you would only drive him crazy.

Joke's on him because he was already crazy. God. You were amazing. His stomach was contracting when you pressed the flat of your tongue over his tip, gathering his precum until it stained your mouth.

You sank your mouth down his full length, not stopping until your forehead hit his pelvis.

Taehyung's head fell back against the couch. You wanted to focus on his pretty face, but the tears in your eyes made it hard.

"Ah,"

Your pretty moans were what pushed him over the edge. He exploded in your mouth without a warning.

"You're lucky I can swallow," you chortled, attempting to wipe the remnant of his load on the corner of your mouth.

Taehyung grabbed your face lightly, stopping you from doing so.

He leaned closer to kiss you, tasting himself as he whispered "Wanna make you feel good too..."

Taehyung scooped you up, making you sit on his lap.

"Please," he kissed the base of your throat while you grind on his cock.

You shook your head.

"This all about you, Tae..." Your words were in contrast to what you really felt. Taehyung could feel how wet you were through your soaked underwear.

You wanted this. You wanted him so much. This wasn't about you. He was the one who deserved to feel good. He had been through a lot.

"Trust me, baby. I'm on cloud nine right now," the corner of his mouth quirked up before sucking bruises on your neck.

"R-Really," you whimpered, running your hands through his soft locks. "Is that why I'm on cloud nine too?"

You remembered your conversation with him from almost a year ago. His life was connected to yours and vice versa. You couldn't breathe when he was mad, and now that the pleasure was overwhelming him, you felt really good as well.

What he felt, you felt too. Taehyung froze upon remembering this.

"What's the matter?" The lust consuming you instantly boiled down to confusion.

Why did the devil look like something epic just hit him right in the face?

"I meant this in the sweetest way possible," Taehyung touched your back.

The scissors tattooed on your shoulder blade materialized in front of him. He was spent. He couldn't use his power after this anymore.

Taehyung was holding the black scissors now.

"Can you please stab yourself?"

The normal reaction should be to freak out—to get mad. However things were different today.

You understood what he meant.

He was testing a theory.

And so you participated.

Heaving a deep sigh, you stabbed your palm using the scissors.

You yelped in pain.

Taehyung held you, kissing your forehead.

It hurt. It hurt a lot.

But you didn't know what hurt the most.

Was it your injured hand? Or was it the fact that Taehyung's palm wasn't bleeding like yours?

It only meant one thing.

"Our lives aren't connected anymore." He confirmed what you already knew.

You were aware that you should be rejoicing. You were finally free. He was finally free.

"I can go back to hell now..."

There was no reason for him to stay here. He simply went to the world of the living to protect you and to tempt people. Doing the latter only took a short period of time.

Taehyung always went back to hell right after corrupting the minds of humans.

In hell, he was safe.

If he was there, he wouldn't have to tempt innocent people just to survive. Hell was his home, it was where his powers became stronger.

"Yeah," your response was too late.

Silence was engulfing you for quite some time now. You were in a state of shock when he said that he could go back to hell any moment from now.

He had no reason to be with you.

"I have all the reason to be with you," but Taehyung believed otherwise.

He didn't want to leave you alone. He just admitted he loved you. He couldn't love you and then decided to leave you.

"Don't be silly, Tae." You buried your face in his chest so that he couldn't see the tears forming in your eyes.

"You have to go. You served your purpose already. You save me,"

You were no longer suicidal. You felt a lot better now. His presence helped you a lot. He made you realize so many things.

"The best thing to do is to leave me."

"But it's not the right thing to do..." His jaw tensed as he embraced you.

"I don't want you to die, Tae." You hugged him back. "I can't let my selfishness become your downfall."

You are my sweetest downfall. He wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut.

He didn't want to die too.

Dying meant he wouldn't be able to see you again.

He had to save himself so that he could continue to love you.

Taehyung loved you.

He kissed you once more just to show it to you.

You kissed him back to imply that you also loved him.

The kiss wasn't like the first time. It wasn't the same as the second kiss too.

This time, the kiss felt more intimate, hungrier, hotter...

He kissed you like it was the last time he would be allowed to do so.

"I love you, Taehyung..." You cooed, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He didn't respond. He only kissed you deeper.

He brought you to his bedroom.

You let your bodies talk. The tension and the frustration were released through kissing your complexion.

Taehyung made love to you to make up with the time you lost and the time you would be losing.

He had accepted his fate.

"How does it feel to be there?" You asked as he collapsed beside you.

"In hell?" Taehyung moved closer to you, embracing your naked body.

You nodded.

He was silent for a while, like he found it hard to answer your question.

Moments later, he finally spoke.

"It feels like everything is..." He stared at the white ceiling of the room, "dead."

It was your turn to keep your lips sealed.

Your heart was aching, luckily Taehyung knew the right words to make you feel better.

"But here, I feel alive..."

It was reassuring to think that you were one of the reasons why he felt happy to be here.

But here, I feel alive... you kept repeating these words inside your head until you fell asleep.

You liked to think that you had a good sleep.

But you wished you didn't sleep because when you woke up, he wasn't by your side anymore.

#taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #demon taehyung #devil taehyung #taehyung demon au #taehyung devil au #taehyung roommate #taehyung roommate au #taehyung fantasy au #taehyung fantasy #taehyung x yn #taehyung x you #taehyung x oc #taehyung x reader #ficswithluv #taehyung enemies to lovers #taehyung e2l

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nonalectos · 3 years

Text

Jury Duty

Fandom: The Nanny

Genre: Romance/Humor/Comfort

Pairing: Fran Fine/C.C. Babcock

Rating: M

Summary: C.C. has been called to jury duty, and Fran decides to come along, placing C.C. in a very uncomfortable position considering the feelings she has been harboring for the nanny the last four years. To make matters worse, there's only one room left in the hotel.

Word Count: 2,826

Author’s Note: My first fic in six years, folks! I am currently neck deep in The Nanny hyper fixation, Fran x C.C. in particular, and I was inspired by my lovely friends and fellow shippers to write my first fic in years and very first fic for this pairing! Boy, have I come a long way since my Fran/Maxwell fanfic on Quizilla.com when I was 14-years-old. Interwoven with canon from S04E17: Samson, He Denied Her. Please enjoy!

This fic can also be found here on AO3.

“What’s that?”

“That’s...the nanny.”

_______

C.C. rolled onto her stomach, burying her face into her pillow, and groaned, the coolness of her satin pillowcase warming to match her body temperature a bit too quickly for her liking. As she shifted, contemplating whether to get up or relegate herself to a day in bed, ignoring all responsibility and...other stressors, an orange-brown fluff next to her feet growled.

Damn dog.

In order to prevent the mongrel from biting at her ankles, C.C. slowly pulled her legs up towards her chest before gently removing the covers, pushing herself up into a seated position, and scooting to let her legs hang off the side of the bed. She sighed and looked at her alarm clock.

5:30 AM

She had one of those dreams again. She was rarely the type to dream, but somehow her subconscious had been invaded by the intrusive thoughts she routinely pushed away during her waking hours. Sparkling red, a hand on her waist, her own hand tangled in a large nest of brown hair, and the recalled scent of scratch-and-sniff magazine perfume flashed through her mind before she could prevent it. She groaned again--loudly--and a retort, almost indistinguishable from her own guttural sound, emitted from the ball of fluff.

C.C. let out one more sigh before standing with renewed intention to have a good, productive day. She would bury her nose--and her mind--in her work. No one could get in the way of her and her job. She was the C.C. Babcock. She made her way to the kitchen and started her coffee maker. While she waited, she opened an envelope that she had left sitting on the table and froze, defeated.

_______

C.C. barged into Maxwell Sheffield’s office, ignoring the skip in her chest when she caught the image of brown, black, red, and white in her peripheral, accompanied by that--against all odds--alluring scent.

“Maxwell, you are not gonna believe this. I have been summoned for jury duty! Well, that is the last time I vote.”

The blur came closer. “Ms. Babcock, maybe I’ll go be on that jury with you.”

C.C. covered her panic with a chuckle. “Nanny Fine, you can’t just go.” This was it. The perfect moment for a witty jab. That would help. “It’s not like Supercuts.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve got a drawer full of those things. Besides, there’s nothing keeping me here.” Fran glared at Maxwell, and C.C. silently stepped out of the office as she heard the man’s voice raise, only making out an exasperated, “Ms. Fine!”

_______

“Oh I’ve just gotta get on this jury!”

As Fran blabbed on, C.C. tried not to focus on how close together they were sitting and how she could still feel the heat from the nanny’s hand on her knee, even after she had removed it. As Fran handed her a book, C.C. was given another chance at a jab. She gasped theatrically.

“You know him?”

“No. You read?”

Fran snatched the book out of C.C.’s hand, and C.C. laughed, the awareness of her leaning closer to Fran escaping her.

_______

“What do you mean there’s just one room left?” C.C. growled at the hotel receptionist.

The receptionist looked at the tall, blond woman towering above them nervously. “I-uh I’m sorry, ma’am, there are no other rooms available. Just the one.”

“But we have two people--” Fran gently placed her hand on C.C.’s shoulder and stepped in between her and the distressed receptionist.

“Are there two beds?” she asked, smiling.

“Y-yes,” the receptionist said hesitantly and then, more assured after calming down, “Yes, there are two beds.”

“See Babs? No harm, no foul,” Fran said brightly, squeezing C.C.’s shoulder as she reached over the counter to take the room key. As they walked towards their room, Fran went on and on about the plot of the romance novel she had shoved in C.C.’s hands earlier. C.C. focused on her breathing, trying to remain calm. She could feel the heat creep up her neck the moment the kid at the desk said they only had one room available, and now she didn’t even have to look to know she had red blotches all over her chest and cheeks. She couldn’t distinguish between her anger and...fear? No. C.C. Babcock was never scared.

“So then when he pulls her in--” holding the book close to her chest, Fran twirled around to face C.C. as she continued walking down the hallway backwards. “Ms. Babcock? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” C.C. responded curtly.

“You’re not having an allergic reaction, are you?” Fran rushed up to her and lifted her hand to examine C.C.’s face as she spoke. “You gotta be careful with shellfish! You know, my cousin, Ernie, never had an allergic reaction in his life. One day, 40 years old, he ate one fried shrimp and BAM --”

C.C. slapped Fran’s hand away, “I’m fine.” Her heart was racing.

“Okay, okay, sorry Mrs. Hyde.” Fran threw her hands in the air, and C.C. could have sworn she gave a tiny pout as she turned around and continued towards their room. When she opened the door, she paused, pulled it back to her, and turned. “You know, Ms. Babcock, we should celebrate! How about a drink? A whiskey. Bourbon. On me.” She winked then stood up straight with a stern look on her face, “ Well. Not top shelf.”

“Nanny Fine,” C.C. uttered through gritted teeth, “I just want to--” she pushed past Fran and opened the door “--lie down.” She stopped in the doorway, still as if she had come face-to-face with Medusa herself.

One bed stood in the room.

_______

The first night was somewhat tolerable. Fran was very kind to C.C., ensuring she was comfortable and that she did not take up too much of her space. C.C. reciprocated by keeping her distance as well. Falling asleep was another story. C.C. was the first to lie down. Being on the side of the bed facing the bathroom, she saw the nanny walk out, wearing one of her bathrobes. God, I hope she has something under that. She could hear the shuffling of the fabric as Fran let the robe fall to the floor and felt the weight in the bed shift as the other woman settled in. Before she could make sense of what was happening, she felt two swift pats on her hip. “Goodnight, Ms. Babcock!”

“Hm,” was the only confirmation she could utter.

C.C. was hyper aware of Fran’s presence. She measured the woman’s breathing and could tell by the slower, deeper breaths when she fell asleep. It took her a while to close her eyes. Every time she did, she saw Fran’s hand on her knee…

Her shoulder…

Her hip…

C.C. jolted awake from a half-sleep. She sighed and stared at the wall in the dark. The blackout curtains weren’t closed all the way, and she could see a sliver of light flash on the wall every once in a while. She could hear sirens, car horns, distant yelling, and sometimes a drunken laugh. She didn’t know what time it was, but it felt like she had been drifting in and out of almost-sleep for hours, still aware of the body radiating heat and energy next to her. What is it about Fran Fine? was the last thought that crossed her mind before she drifted into a very, very light sleep.

_______

C.C.’s eyes traveled down Fran’s figure as she stood up when Vincenzo approached the stand, her expression a mixture of endearment and bewilderment. Why her?, a question echoing the sentiment from the night before repeating in her mind. The rest of the day in the courtroom was filled with typical annoyances, with the exception of a moment of outburst from Fran that left C.C. with the sting of an emotion she couldn’t quite place in the moment as she softly pulled Fran’s arm down.

_______

The next day, C.C. pinpointed the emotion as Fran spoke. “See, that is what happens when a man tells you that he loves you and then he takes it back.”

Jealousy.

C.C.’s face was still until she realized her arms were full of snacks that Fran had been piling onto her.

“What are you looking for?”

“My Dexatrim,” Fran responded.

C.C. rolled her eyes and stuffed the food back into Fran’s bag, the thought popping into her mind again. Why her?

_______

She was exhausted. Eight days, hardly any sleep, and “a horse is a horse, of course, of course” stuck in her head practically 24/7, C.C. wanted to explode when she read the words on the slip of paper, “And one ‘not guilty’…,” followed by Fran convincing another juror to vote “not guilty.” Every time she thought she was going to escape her personal hell, she was dragged back down. She was Sisyphus, and Nanny Fine was her boulder.

C.C. stood. “Could it be that you’re just a little sensitive to this shrew maid because you have some fantasy of ending up with your employer yourself?”

Sting.

“Let she who is without fantasy cast the first stone!”

Ohh, if only you knew, Nanny Fine!

The rest of the afternoon was full of more sting as Fran not-so-subtly talked about Maxwell and the children, but at least they were finally done. C.C. could go home and try to put this all behind her.

As they walked out of the courtroom, Fran hooked her arm through C.C.’s and cheerfully said, “I have a proposal.”

“And what would that be, Ms. Fine?”

“I propose we take one more night off. You know, eat, drink, relax, before heading back to work.”

“Nanny Fine, I really--”

“Pleeease Ms. Babcock?” Fran pleaded, stopping and tugging on her arm. C.C. looked into Fran’s eyes: earnest, gentle, kind.

That’s why her. “Well, alright.”

“You know, I really feel like this has been a good bonding experience for us.”

C.C. rolled her eyes...and couldn’t help but smile.

_______

She wasn’t drunk, but she did feel a little tipsy. A little more relaxed. She and Fran were making their way back to their room after a pleasant evening of food and a couple drinks each. The nanny really was good company, when C.C. let herself enjoy it. C.C. settled into what she had established as her side of the bed for the previous eight nights, lying on her back and staring at the ceiling. Her blond hair pooled on the feather pillow under her head. She could hear the sink faucet turn on. A couple of splashes. Off. The towel being pulled off the rack. C.C. tore her eyes from the ceiling to the bathroom door. Fran walked out and, as she walked around to her side of the bed, began to untie her robe. C.C. didn’t take her eyes off of her. Fran wasn’t wearing anything particularly risqué--why would she be--but the loose fitting, thin material that made up her pajamas hung on her perfectly. C.C. could feel her neck and cheeks getting warm again--a nightly routine for her body at this point--and she turned over to hide. Her head was reeling with the influx of emotions she had felt over the last week, a mental Rolodex: anxious, longing, annoyed, jealous, hopeful...hurt.

“Nanny Fine?” She wasn’t sure if Fran had fallen asleep.

“Yeah, Babs?”

Her heart skipped.

“Why…” she turned over to face the nanny. “Why do you put up with it?”

Fran had been facing the other way. She turned over. The bedside table lamp hadn’t been turned off yet. C.C. was able to look into the other woman’s eyes again.

“Put up with what?”

“Maxwell. He...well, obviously he isn’t willing to give you what you want. Why hold out hope?”

“Why do you?” Fran retorted with a hint of defensiveness.

C.C. was silent for a moment. “I think I’ve confused myself.” Oh god, how much did I have to drink? “I don’t think what I really desire is what...I thought I desired.” I don’t feel drunk.

Fran maintained eye contact. Silent. Almost as if she knew. C.C. cast her gaze down. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Why do you act so hard?” the woman said. The words were accusatory but the tone was soft and empathetic. Despite her attempts to keep them at bay, C.C. could feel the sting of tears and a lump in her throat. “Oh, Ms. Babcock,” Fran whispered, slowly rubbing the blond’s shoulder with her thumb. “You really are a wonderful, caring woman. You just won’t let others see it. Like you’re protecting yourself from something.” Earnest, gentle...kind.

That’s why her.

“You hurt others before they can hurt you.”

C.C. looked back into Fran’s eyes. Up to this point, she thought her jabs had all been in jest. “Have I hurt you?”

Fran laughed. “Oh, honey. It takes more than what you can throw to hurt me.” C.C. sniffled. “But listen. I was holding out hope for Mr. Sheffield because the other person I noticed--the strong, loyal, brilliant woman who crossed my path every day--didn’t treat me the way I deserve to be treated.” Before C.C. could interject, Fran continued. “Now, that’s not to say he’s a saint. Faaaar from it, missy. But you, Babs. I see a lot of potential in you, but you gotta soften up that thing you got in that chest of yours.”

“I...don’t--half the time, I don’t even know what I’m feeling,” the words started escaping from her lips, betraying every cell in her body, every natural inclination she had. At least what she thought up to this point was natural for her. “When I first saw you, four years ago, in that sparkling red dress...the way you moved, the way you talked, your confidence, god I felt so...so intensely jealous. But...four years later, and I can’t get that image of you out of my head. Just you. Not Maxwell.”

Fran lifted her hand to wipe a tear from C.C.’s face then back to her shoulder. She felt the woman’s hand travel from her shoulder down her arm…

Her waist…

Her hip…

Then she tugged.

C.C. placed her hand on the brunette’s waist as she was pulled in, the many inches between them closed. She gasped, and her breathing became uneven. She could feel the flush in her cheeks as she glanced down at Fran’s lips, which she now noticed were coming closer...and closer. She had kissed people before. Plenty of times. But Fran’s lips felt like home. They were soft and warm, moving in tandem with her own. The perfect fit. C.C. moved her hand up Fran’s side, taking note of every inch of her curvature, until she was able to tangle her hand in that nest of beautiful, brown hair. Every breath she took in between kisses was filled with that wonderfully intoxicating scratch-and-sniff perfume scent, and in the moments a soft, nasally moan escaped from the nanny’s lips, C.C.’s hips pushed forward and she moaned in return. Fran coaxed C.C. onto her back with a gentle but firm push and straddled her, not letting their lips part for more than a second. C.C. put both hands on each of Fran’s hips as Fran began to leave a trail of kisses down C.C.’s neck…

Her collarbone…

Her chest…

This is better than being drunk...

_______

C.C. finally got the rest she needed. She woke up from a deep sleep and could feel the tangling of sheets around her body. As she began to shift, she felt a heavy weight on her legs and her waist. A quiet, gravely moan emitted next to her ear. As C.C. rolled over, Fran shifted but didn’t move her leg or her arm. Instead, she tightened her grip and pulled the woman closer. C.C. caressed Fran’s face as her eyes fluttered open.

“Mornin’, Babs baby.”

“Morning, Fran,” C.C. said with a smile and placed a sweet kiss on the nanny’s lips.

_______

Hand-in-hand, C.C. and Fran walked up to the desk in the hotel lobby to check out. The receptionist from their first night was working that morning. Fran smiled and slid the key across the counter, while C.C. took out her credit card to pay for all the unexpected nights.

“Good morning, ladies! Hope you enjoyed your stay. Did the pull out couch work out alright?” the receptionist asked.

Fran and C.C. exchanged glances and both blurted, “The what?”

#the nanny #fran x cc #fran fine #cc babcock #alcohol mention #fanfic1 #i'm actually really proud of this one!#it felt good to write again for the first time in a long time too #god i love these two so much #this is my longest one shot too i think

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

Home Bound (Part 2)

Summary: With some help from Samson, Dean makes it back to the bunker and starts to process everything that’s happened...

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,700ish

Warnings: language, angst, injury, mention of character death, mourning, supernatural events

A/N: Written entirely in Dean’s POV. Enjoy!

______

“Morning,” said Sam as I groggily sat up. He was cooking in the kitchen, humming a happy tune to himself.

“God, it’s barely seven in the morning,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

“I’ve already been up for an hour,” he said. “Eggs?”

“If you’re offering,” I said, stumbling over to his bathroom. I changed back into my clothes, yawning as I sat down at the table. He put down a cup of coffee and plate of scrambled eggs along with some hot sauce.

“You got any money to get by?” he asked, standing at his counter eating.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, wolfing down my food.

“Here,” he said, pushing an envelope towards me. I leaned over and grabbed it, opening it up to find a wad of money. “It’s about five hundred. S’all I got laying around the house. That enough to get you home?”

“Samson I can’t accept this,” I said, putting the envelope back.

“I wasn’t really asking,” he said, setting it down on the table next to me. “I’d let you take my car but I need it for work.”

“Sam, it doesn’t look like you got much. I’m not taking your life savings,” I said.

“I have a bank account, jackass. It’s not my savings. Don’t worry about it. Go home, take care of what needs to be done and yourself. You’re getting closer to popping. Pay it forward some day,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said, drinking down the last of my coffee. I tucked the envelope in my pocket and he set his mug down.

“I’ll drive you to the bus station,” he said. I put on my boots by the front door as he rummaged around in a closet. He pulled out a black winter coat and held it out to me. “For if you decide you need a walk again.”

“Write down your address,” I said, handing him back the envelope.

“Alright. I don’t want any money or the jacket back. Send me a Christmas card or something,” he said. He returned it after a moment and grabbed his keys as I slipped into the coat. “Better?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks man.”

“S’no problem. Let’s get you home.”

36 Hours Later

My hands were shoved in the fleece lined pockets as I walked up the dirt road to the bunker. The ice storm in Colorado had followed me all the way back to Kansas but the hooded winter coat made all the difference in the world. I couldn’t wait to take a hot shower and curl up in bed with one of Y/N’s blankets.

What happened after...I wasn’t going to be able to put off later for much longer. Now that I was home though, I could let go and get my head on straight in the morning to figure out what had happened.

With a deep breath I stepped down to the door and opened it up. The heat had been left on and the hallway was cozy. I stepped through to the other door inside and found the lights were on too, exactly as they were when we’d all headed out. Just in case, Y/N said. She didn’t want to come home to a dark house.

I headed down the stairs and cut into the library, the space feeling far too big for just me.

“I miss you,” I said. I pinched my nose and heard a creak behind me. I spun around, eyes wide.

“Dean?” said Sam. My Sam, the one that must have died, must have, was right there, in pajamas and with a bowl of chips in his hand.

“I die and now you eat the crap, Sammy?” I said. He set the bowl down and rushed over, giving me a hug. “I’m getting you all wet.”

“Don’t care,” he said. He squeezed me hard and I let out a tiny gasp, Sam giving me some room after that. He looked confused though and shook his head. “How…”

“Was gonna ask you the same thing,” I said.

“I didn’t die. You pushed me out of the way,” he said.

“I don’t remember that,” I said. “You were right there. Since I woke up I assumed…”

Sam was smiling at me still but the hunter in him finally kicked in. I nodded to the cabinet where everything he’d need to test me was. Three minutes later he was hugging me too hard again.

“Relax, Sammy. Gonna pop my shoulder back out,” I said. He immediately released me and I cradled my arm. “I fixed it already.”

“Still. You should wear the sling Y/N bought,” he said. We wandered over to the infirmary and he dug around in a drawer until he pulled it out.

“Is she…” I said, taking off my jackets and slipping it on over my head. Sam shook his head and I sighed. “You don’t know that for sure. Up until five minutes ago you thought I was dead too.”

“True but, you know,” he said. I nodded, staring at the floor. “Cas is alright. Billie got him back from the empty. He’s up in heaven trying to help keep that going. They’re trying out this new method or something.”

“Not your memories?” I asked, heading for the kitchen.

“No. I mean kinda. More like, collective afterlife? It uses a lot less power I guess,” said Sam. “They’re doing small test groups right now he said. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“How’s he alive again?” I asked.

“Billie brought him back,” he said as we walked over to the kitchen.

“How’s Jack?”

“He’s doing okay. He got pretty hurt during the fight. I took care of him for a few weeks before he headed out. New God and all. He’s still learning.”

“He bring me back?” I asked.

“He doesn’t know how to do that yet. He says he feels like he will be able to someday, like it’s in his bones but he doesn’t know quite right now how to pull it off,” said Sam.

“So how am I back?”

“I honestly have no idea,” he said. I took a seat at the table, catching Y/N’s mug sat at the end in her usual spot. “We gave you guys a hunter’s funeral. There’s a little marker up in the woods a ways, in that clearing you two used to go have dates in.”

“There’s no body then.”

“No. Where’d you wake up?” he asked, taking two beers out of the fridge.

“Middle of nowhere Colorado,” I said. “Any idea why?”

“No, not really. Any place we ever hunt?”

“No. I met a guy. Samson, apparently dad and I saved his folks back in the day while you were at school. But they didn’t live there. I never...I never met the guy,” I said. “He knew who I was but he’d never met me.”

“You think he was lying?”

“He was nice to me when I was an ass. I don’t think he was playing at anything. How would he know what I looked like though?”

“It’s possible I suppose that he reached out to other hunters and learned more about you? I mean the girls got pictures of us. Maybe Eileen?”

“Maybe,” I said, shaking my head. “Shit, Sam. How’s-”

“She’s good,” said Sam with a small smile. “She’s over in Lawrence at the moment actually. She’s looking at houses for us.”

“You guys deserve to finally be together,” I said. “She’s good for you.”

“I know.”

“Gonna stop hunting?”

“I don’t really need to anymore. We kind of turned them all human,” said Sam. I cocked my head and he shrugged. “The hail mary? It worked. No more monsters.”

“That’s great,” I said, forcing a smile. Great. I couldn’t even bury myself in hunting to feel slightly less crappy. I was worthless.

“I’m heading out to meet Eileen in a few days. Come with me.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna intrude or-”

“You can have some space but you’re not staying here alone,” he said.

“Y/N’s dead. I have no job now. I’m not gonna be the brooding mope sitting at the end of your couch when you finally get to be with your girl.”

“Dean,” said Sam as I stood up.

“I really want to shower and sleep, Sammy. I’m cold and exhausted. Please,” I said.

“You’re gonna come with,” he said. I clenched my fist and glared over my shoulder. “Y/N wrote you a letter for if she didn’t make it back. It’s in your room. When I thought you both...I read it in case she wanted something to be done after she was gone. You know the only thing she said? You need to go live your life. She loves you and wants you to be happy.”

“Easy for her to say. She’s not here,” I said.

“Dean. I know this is raw for you and I’ve had four months to deal you didn’t. Don’t disrespect what she wanted.”

“Oh fuck you,” I said. I stormed out, pausing around the corner. I heard him behind me and slumped my shoulders down. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay,” he said.

“She was supposed to live, not me,” I said. “Cause she’s stronger than I am and I can’t deal with her not being in that bedroom when I go down this hall.”

“Dean. Grieve. Please. For the first time in your life, grieve properly. When you’re ready, you and me will go out to Lawrence. I’m gonna call Eileen and make sure she finds a place where you got a big room and your own bathroom and garage and all that. Until then, I’m gonna stay here. Ignore me, yell at me, whatever. I’m staying. Alright?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I want a pool too.”

“Dean.”

“Hot tub.”

“We’ll put one in.”

“Fine,” I said. He ruffled my hair and I headed down to the bathroom. I slipped out of my clothes, pulling out the envelope with a few hundred dollars left. “Sammy.”

“What?” he called back.

“Figure out who this guy was,” I said, holding the envelope out the door. “That’s his name and address.”

“Whiltiston,” said Sam, making a face. “You sure this is his name?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You wouldn’t know. About two months back, the Whiltiston family was in the news. National news. They’d been reunited with their daughter who was kidnapped as an infant. She was safe. The people who took her pretended to be her parents. They were real sickos. I’d hunt ‘em down if they weren’t already dead,” said Sam.

“So this guy’s her brother?” I asked.

“Yeah, there was a brother Sam I remember mentioned at the press conference. They didn’t show anyone but the dad but they were all really happy to be back together,” he said.

“Still doesn’t explain how he knows what I look like.”

“They said the girl has a sketchy memory of certain things. I mean they were bad people, Dean. It’s possible we worked her case and didn’t know?” he said.

“See if you can dig up a phone number for me too,” I said.

“Yeah. I’ll see if...you know, we’ve been in the national news before too. It’s entirely possible that one of his parents saw us on the news and told him that was you.”

“Oh. That’s...a lot more likely,” I said, frowning to myself. “Forget about it. Could you just slip in some extra cash in there for me? I’ll send it back along with the coat. The guy didn’t have much.”

“No problem. I’ll get you the phone number too. I know you’ll drive yourself nuts if you don’t know for sure.”

“Sam,” I said as he started to leave. “I’m really happy you’re not dead.”

“Me too. Take your shower. I’ll put out some pajamas for you.”

I nodded and shut the door, resting my head against the back of it. After a moment I went to the shower and turned the water on, forgetting about the prickly heat until my skin turned a slight pink and started to warm up. Somehow I got through with washing myself before I saw Y/N’s shampoo staring back at me in the cubby. I swallowed and picked it up, flipping open the cap and taking a deep inhale.

It took awhile and one concerned knock at the door to realize at some point I’d sat down with my knees in my chest, Y/N’s shampoo sat on the ground beside me.

“Dean? You okay? You’ve been in there for an hour,” said Sam. I buried my head down and heard the door creek open. “Dean? Answer me or I’m coming in.”

“I’m fine,” I said, voice raw and cracking with every syllable. Sam didn’t open the door anymore but he was still there.

“Turn off the water,” he said. I reached up and hit it off, wiping the back of my hand across my nose. “You have one minute to dry off and put on a towel.”

The door shut and I forced myself to get up. I patted myself off and got a towel around my waist, trying to wash my face off before Sam saw me.

“I’m coming in,” said Sam. One look at him said more than enough and I looked away. “I told you to grieve.”

“Her freaking shampoo bottle,” I said. Sam looked over to the shower and saw it on the ground, running his hand through his hair. “Why can’t I shove it down like every other time?”

“You know why. There’s no chance of you getting her back and she wouldn’t want you to do something stupid. You loved her. You’re always gonna love her. Dean, I’ve been there with Jessica. It’s gonna fuck you up real good for a while. I thought I’d never be happy again, not like that, and then I found Eileen. It feels like the end of your life but it’s not,” he said. “It’s not going away if you shove it down so just feel it.”

“Yeah,” I said. I brushed past him and went to my room, shutting the door to change. I left it closed and sat on the edge of the bed, catching his shadow under the door. It moved away after a minute and I let out a sigh. The room smelled musty which I appreciated. It was something different to focus on.

I rolled over to Y/N’s side of the bed and saw the letter Sam had mentioned on her nightstand. I ripped it off and found it wasn’t as long as I’d expected. She probably did it last minute.

De, I love you. I’m always going to love you. I need you to try to keep loving and not shut the world out. Find some happiness again or I’m gonna haunt you like I’m your own personal Casper. Okay? You’ll get there someday. My big green flannel is in the closet if you need it. Be safe (I’ll keep an eye out for you though, promise).

My head glanced up and over to the closet, staring before I stood and opened it. At the end was her big oversized green flannel. She’d stolen so many of my clothes over the years she’d decided to get something of hers I could take for myself.

I pulled it off the hook and brought it back to bed, tugging it on before I lay back on the mattress.

It too was a little musty but there was the faint scent of her shampoo again filling the air.

“Fuck, I miss you,” I said. I shut my eyes and turned off the light, hoping exhaustion would put me to sleep quickly.

_______

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #dean x #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean series

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startanewdream · 3 years

Text

the fall

Summary: James lives. Sirius falls.

Notes: Sometimes people ask if in my Jily Lives AU series, Sirius dies like in the book. I like to think not, but I never wrote one way or another, because after all I don’t want Sirius to die.

But if it happened like in the books, here it is how I imagine it would go (not really part of the series, but it mentions events there):

Sometimes James still dreams of the fall.

It was something he always feared.

Most people wouldn't guess but he always had a fear of heights; that was the reason he first mounted a broom and took of for the sky - more than any fear he felt, James loved taking risks, being dare. It made him feel alive.

He never stopped fearing the height, but he trusted his broom and in all his short career at Quidditch there had been only one accident, one time a bludger hit him too hard and he fell - later he would claim he had blacked out, but the truth was he stayed awaked through all his fall, until someone managed to grab him and save him.

James never forgot that feeling of being adrift in the air, condemned to fall in that one-way trip. He remembers thinking that this must be like the angels felt when they were falling from grace.

His mother had been Catholic and she had told him all the stories. He had not paid attention to most - his father's adventures stories were much more to his taste - but there were some that caught his attention. Daniel in the lion’s den. Samson with his hair. The fallen angels.

He always thought it must have been hard for them, being cast away from heaven. James loved flying, loved being above everything and feeling free; he would have hate being trapped on the ground.

He would hate losing his wings.

When he was six, his father allowed him to stay awake well past his bedtime and they camped in their backyard. It was a cold November night, but James was too excited to feel cold; his dad was telling stories of long lost heroes when James saw the fall for the first time.

It looked like a line of light crossing the night sky, something falling quickly in the space of a blink of an eye and vanishing before he could understand. And then another and another, after a few seconds or minutes, a number of little lines appearing in the starry sky. It was beautiful.

It scared him.

'Are those angels, dad? Are they falling again?'

His father had smiled.

'No, James, those are falling stars. Shooting stars. Make a wish'.

James did not feel like wishing for anything. Stars were made to be in the sky too. They shouldn't fall.

When he told that to his father, he smiled again and hugged James.

'Those are not really stars, son. Those are meteors, parts of a comet that came too near Earth. What you see is just the meteors entering our planet and burning in the process'.

'It's strange'.

'It's just an event, like eclipses or the phases of the Moon. But this one is special, it happens once in thirty years. The first time I saw it I was your age'.

'Does it hurt them? Those meteors when they burn?'

'No more than the water is hurt when it's raining', his father assured him. 'They are just rocks. I thought you would like it. This meteor shower is called the Leonids'.

'Like the Greek hero?

'Like the constellation Leo, actually'.

This picked up his interest even more. James loved lions, loved the courage they represented and loved how they were the symbol of a House he would be someday.

He watched the rest of the meteor shower in a blissful mood and that night he dreamed of falling stars that were not really stars nor they were falling.

A decade later, he convinced his friends to fly to the top of the Gryffindor Tower, equilibrating precariously on the bricks of the tower, to watch another meteor shower.

Remus slept right away, tired even in a moonless night, and Peter was trembling too much to enjoy the show, but Sirius stayed awake with him all night, watching the stars, almost clapping each time he saw a shooting star (this meteor shower was much less impressive than the other James saw, but it didn't matter. It was never about the stars).

'Do you think wishing upon a star really works?', Sirius asked him in a low voice.

'Depends. What are you wishing for?'

Sirius had turned to look at him.

'If I tell you, it doesn't come true', he said as if it were obvious, but James just stared back at him, waiting.

He knew Sirius would tell him because there were no secrets between them. They trusted each other too much for that.

And just like he knew it would happened, Sirius blinked.

'I wished - I thought of my family -'

James frowned then, still remembering the raining summer night where Sirius had appeared in front of his house, wet and trembling, and had told him he had run away from home. James had done the only sensible thing - he had stand aside to allow Sirius to enter and had helped him change his clothes.

He didn't understand what Sirius could wish about his family - as far as James knew, none of them were really Sirius' family and he was much better away from them.

'My brother, actually', Sirius whispered, sounding guilty of even having this thought. ' I wish I could have him back'.

James thought of the first day of classes that year, when Sirius had come face to face to his brother after running away, and how Regulus had turned his back on him, had refused to hear Sirius calling him, and how heartbroken Sirius had been.

'You don't need him', James said forcefully, hating to see Sirius so down. Sirius was made to shine even more than the star he was named for. 'I am your brother. I won't ever leave you'.

Sirius beamed at him them, his eyes full of love and James knew he was right. They were more than best friends. They were brothers.

Years later he would feel guilty when he found out the truth about Regulus, how he had been brave after all and how Sirius never discovered it.

Years later he would watch Sirius fall and the only wish he could make was that it was all a dream.

But right then they didn't know better, so Sirius offered his hand, which James ignored in favor of hugging him, and they stood together watching the meteor shower.

That was how James and Sirius did most of the things. Together.

They laughed and they pranked and they made mistakes together. They wronged together too and they faced detentions - when they started to get separate detentions, they invented a mirror to talk to each other.

When James realized he fancied Lily Evans, he told Sirius first - Sirius didn't seewhat attracted James in Evans, but he supported, helped him with some cheesy lines (none of it worked) and promise he would marry James if Evans was still rejecting him by the time he were thirty. James knew how much that meant for Sirius, who never really seemed to care about dates and relationships.

And he didn't doubt Sirius would be there for them to grow old together.

When he finally started dating Lily, he told Sirius, even before telling her, that he was in love with Lily. And then, as he said it (Sirius had rolled his eyes, but James knew he was happy for him, because that’s how they were with each other - if one was happy, the other was too; if one was that sad, the other found the reason and punched it in the face), he realized that he had never told Sirius that he loved him too.

'I love you, Padfoot'.

Sirius had stopped to look at him, looking only confused.

'Yeah, I know. We are brothers'.

And then James felt stupid for thinking he had to said how he felt out loud. He never once doubted Sirius loved him either; of course Sirius would feel the same.

Nothing change after they graduated. Sirius was with him in the Order, for the most important and most boring missions, for the days were hope were lost and for the small victories they managed.

Sirius was his best man in his wedding, making a speech that made everyone cry and filled with puns about dogs and stags that made James laugh even if none of the other guests understood. And Sirius was by his side when his parents died.

Years later James would see Sirius hearing about his mother passing away with just a blink, but when he heard about the Potters, Sirius came and hugged James and they cried together, because they were both losing their parents. Sirius had not only been a brother to James, but also a second son that his parents had loved fiercely - and Sirius had loved them back, had found in them all the care and support he lacked from his own parents.

And then Sirius was somehow the only family James had (Lily was part of him, so it was different), until Harry was born - and it was obvious that Sirius would be the godfather.

And even more obvious that he would be their Secret Keeper.

Except it didn't happen like that because Sirius had an idea and James had believed it was the best, because he wouldn't dare to mistrust Peter (he was already hiding things from Remus and that hurt him too much).

But Peter - who James had also loved too, but maybe he should have told him that more - betrayed them and by the tiniest luck James and Lily and Harry survived. Peter died. James tried not to think about it.

For the next years there was some peace. Sirius got to fulfill his wish of being an Auror, James went to his studies, Lily went to preparing her potions. And Harry grew up happy and with his family complete.

Until the fall.

If James had to describe it, he always thought it would be much like the falling star. The angel would be thrown from the sky and at first he would trust his wings to keep him from falling like they always had done; but much like the meteor, the wings would burn brightly upon entering Earth and the fire would consume them, until there was nothing of the feathers and the angel would just fall, in what would seem forever - but the ground would be nearer and nearer until, finally, the angel would hit it.

The angels survived in the stories, but James remembers the story of Icarus, who dared to fly to close to the sun and fell to his death in the sea.

Sirius was no angel and, like Icarus, he always flew too high, James knew, because there was nothing holding him back.

James had a son and a wife to protect with his life and somehow this grounded him, made him think more than when he was young. Sirius loved them all, but he was free.

That didn't worry James for a very long time. Sirius was a star. It was okay for him to be high in the sky. He was made to be there.

Until the fall, where the laws of the physics didn't seem to matter.

In hindsight, James thought he should have paid attention. Sirius had been dismissed from a work he truly loved, had to hide for being hunted after telling the truth the world didn't want to hear. He had lost everything he had fought for in the last fourteen years and he was forced to hide in his old parent's house, the one place he had tried so much to run away from. He was careless and out of practice.

Lily tried to warn him and James didn't listen. It had been so long since James had worried about Sirius - instead, it was Sirius that was always comforting James with his worries and problems. At some point in their lives Sirius had become the older brother to him, just as much as a godfather - a second father - he was to Harry.

Harry loved him and he never thought of Sirius like anything other than his family too. Harry would hear Sirius and trust him and care for him.

They should have expected Voldemort to use it against them. Voldemort could not use James or Lily - Harry wouldn't believe it - but when he came for Sirius, if only pretending to, Harry didn’t doubt it for a second and feared and didn't care about anything other than saving his family.

It was a trap and as soon as they found out, they came to rescue Harry. Someone should stay behind to tell Dumbledore, but Sirius never considered waiting while his godson was in danger.

James never expected him to. He knew Sirius enough to know he loved a challenge and he loved Harry even more.

But James never expected Sirius to fall either.

James remembered the first meteor shower he saw. In one moment there was nothing, just the a normal night sky, full of stars and constellations he would someday learn about. And then the lines were crossing the sky, flashes of light that seemed to either last one second or fall forever until they vanished in the horizon.

That's how Sirius falls. Forever until the horizon comes.

He is dancing with Bellatrix, a dance of lights and carefree laughs with a cousin that is not his family - James is his family, the Potters are his family - when the spell hits him. It's not green, so James is not concerned, but then Sirius falls behind, gracefully, quickly, into a veil that seems to welcome him with open arms just as James did the night Sirius ran away from home.

And then he is gone.

Not dead. Gone.

Like the falling stars in the meteor shower, vanishing into nothing.

James wishes for him to return with all his heart, but nothing happens. He begs to any god that might be listening. No one answers. Nothing changes.

After all these years he has an answer to Sirius' question (it's a waste of time to wish upon a star) and he can't even tell him.

He stares at nothing, feeling numb, for once not hearing Harry's cries and then Lily is there, hugging him and it's only when James can only breath through his mouth that he realizes he is crying, kneeling in the ground in front of the veil, his hand raised expecting Sirius to grab his hand so James can save him.

Nothing happens.

He doesn't know how he survives the next week. He doesn't remember anything except for a few flashes - punching Fudge (because that's what Sirius would do) destroying the motorbike that Sirius left on the Potters house, attacking with a kitchen knife Sirius's mother portrait (it works, and they manage to take her out - Sirius would have been happy).

It's only when Harry returns from school and asks him in a very quiet voice if he blames him, that James feels like waking up.

'No', he whispers. 'It's only Voldemort's fault'.

He doesn't blame Harry - his son did what he thought it was the best with the few information he had -, he doesn't blame Dumbledore for trying to keep Sirius away, he doesn't blame Snape for being a dick and messing with Sirius' head and he doesn't blame himself for not being able to prevent what happened.

The only one he has to work on not blaming is Sirius, who should have know better, who should have been more careful, who should not dare to leave James' side.

But then again, when he got the chance, Icarus flew too high too. And Sirius was not made to be locked.

He finds Harry in the backyard of the house some day, looking at the destroyed motorbike; there is a toolbox next to him, and James remembers Sirius teaching Harry about motors a long time ago, sharing his passion with his godson.

Harry doesn't ask why the motorbike is destroyed; he seems to understand whatever anger made James do it. He just starts fixing it and, after a while watching his son working, James grabs some tools too.

It's a hard work, under scalding heat, but they never complain.

'I asked Nearly Headless Nick how ghosts were made', Harry whispers one afternoon, while he is changing the tire.

'He wouldn't return', James says without taking his eyes from the cylinder, trying not to sound resentful. 'He would have gone on'.

'Dumbledore once told me death is just the next adventure'.

'Sirius would never refuse an adventure'.

Harry smiles at him, with tears shining in his eyes, and he nods.

It's a long summer. James wakes up screaming sometimes - it's the fall, always the fall - and Lily is there for him, kissing him and embracing him until he falls asleep again.

She is the sun for him, the one star he can count on to keep shining, to return every day after it sets.

Lily is mourning too (she loved Sirius too, even though people would forget it), and sometimes he catches her crying silently; he is the one to embrace her, and then what happens is that they cry together.

But being with Sirius mostly of his life taught James that pain, like happiness, is better when you have someone to share.

It's Lily who suggests they make a funeral for Sirius - not a sad event, just something to represent him and a place to let them pay their respects - not with flowers, because Sirius never cared for them, but James thinks he would like to receive motor magazines from time to time.

So they place a tombstone near where James' (and Sirius') parents are buried. It's empty, no coffin and no one to pay the homage Sirius truly deserved (a big speech, music playing, lots of people crying), but it feels somehow like an ending really, when James stares at the silver tomb and sees the name of his best friend and brother there.

Lily was right after all; Sirius isn’t there, not really, but James comes to that place to talk to him, to tell him what's happening, even if it makes him sad to realize how much Sirius is missing.

He hopes that wherever Sirius is (in heaven, pranking innocent angels at least and waiting for James), Sirius gets to hear and cheer too for all the good news.

He never stops missing Sirius, just like he still wishes his parents were still there. When the war is over, he takes a break to come to see Sirius, to open the champagne they promised they would toast to when Moldy-Voldy was finally gone. It's a lonely toast, but James pretends Sirius is there; a dog passes by - it's not black, it doesn't look remotely like Sirius' animal form -, but James sees it a sign.

The next day, after he visits a shelter and returns home with a black dog, Lily just smiles.

'Hello, Padfoot', she says letting the dog sniff her then lick her face, and just like that the dog is already part of their family.

Sirius is not there for Harry's first hangover (he would have laughed and give Harry various tips on how to avoid passing out, and also various tips of preparing the best drinks), he is not there when James and Lily get pregnant (he would have complained about not being godfather again) and he is not there when Harry marries (Sirius would have cried harder than James).

And he is not there when James sees for the first time his grandchild, a beautiful tiny boy that brings tears of joy to his eyes when a very tired Ginny lets him hold his first grandson.

'He is perfect', he whispers, unable to look away from the baby just as once he couldn't look away from his son. At his side, Lily is letting the baby hold her pinky, beaming. 'Did you decide a name for him after all?'

'Well -', Harry begins, sitting right next to Ginny on bed and taking her hand.

'We always thought of naming after you if it were a boy', Ginny says, exchanging a look with Harry.

James looks up.

'I am honoured -'

'Until we saw him for the first time', Harry interrupts him, his voice soft. 'When he opened his eyes, I swear there were like a million stars there shining for us. So we thought of - something else'.

'What?'

'Sirius', Harry says simply. 'Instead of making it his second name, we thought of calling him Sirius. Sirius James Potter'.

James looks back at his grandson. It's fitting.

'He does look serious', he whispers, and some part of his mind hears Sirius' barking laugh, teasing him indignantly for going for that old joke.

More than the tease, James swears he can hear the happiness too. Sirius was always a Potter anyway, this is just one way of making it somewhat official.

'It's a lovely name', he agrees, smiling, and indeed when the baby opens his eyes, James sees all the stars there that won't ever fall.

#James Potter and Sirius Black #Jily Lives AU #But not a happier world this time #Angst #With some sort of happy ending #t: fanfiction

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imthecaretaker · 3 years

Text

More G/t? More G/t!

Yes friends, acquaintances, and assorted cryptids, I bring you another piece of G/t fiction for your enjoyment! Sit back and relax!

Prologue

The Fae creature snapped their fingers, causing a scroll to appear in midair next to them. "I believe we had an agreement, human," they said, adjusting reading glasses that had been conjured from thin air.

"Yes, but-"

"And you broke it," they said flatly as they looked over the contract.

"There was no other way!" The human pleaded.

The Fae tsked as they hovered a foot off the ground, still perusing the scroll. "Did you even read the terms? Consider the consequences?"

Another attempt to defend their actions was silenced as the Fae continued. "You know what is going to happen, don't you?"

A sigh, and a silent nod was the only response.

The Fae gave a disapproving shake of their antlered head and snapped their fingers. They and the scroll vanished.

"You'll do well not to violate our contract further," the Fae's disembodied voice warned. "Steeper penalties await if you do."

An unspecified number of years later...

Sam panted as he ducked and dodged through the trees, his ears filled with the sounds of his fast-approaching pursuer. He'd been on a hike in the woods when he happened across a rather cantankerous bear, feeding on a bushful of berries. But now, it seemed it wanted a taste of meat.

In his panic, Sam had taken a wrong turn somewhere, and was now sprinting deeper into the forest.

His body screaming for oxygen, he paused for a moment, his head snapping back and forth looking for a place to hide. Suddenly he noticed through a bit of brush, the yawning mouth of a cave. With the bear quickly closing, Sam dashed toward the cave. Maybe he could find some rocks to make a last stand with.

He ran inside for about twenty yards, before skidding to a stop. Before him was a crevice in the rock floor, at least thirty feet deep and maybe fifteen feet wide, too wide to jump without a running start. Which he wasn't going to get.

Turning around, he saw the bear slowly closing, huffing and growling. It got within ten feet and raised up on its hind paws. At nearly eight feet tall, it towered over Sam, eyeing him hungrily before roaring in his face. Flinching, Sam's nose was filled with the hot stink of the bear's breath. He tried to pray as he awaited his demise. Our Father, who art in Heaven…

"WHO DISTURBS MY REST?!" An angry male voice boomed from the darkness of the cave.

The bear, its attention drawn, stared past Sam, into the cave.

"I SAID WHO DISTURBS ME?!" The voice demanded again, along with the sounds of fabric rustling and something big changing position.

Now thoroughly spooked, the bear dropped back to all fours and made a hasty retreat.

Momentarily relieved he wasn't going to be bear chow, Sam realized he now had a much more pressing matter to attend to. The sounds of heavy steps reached his ears and he slowly turned around. His eyes widened at what he saw and he could only whisper, "No…"

A hoof, cloven and the size of a Volkswagen, appeared from the darkness and thundered to a stop on the other side of the rock crevice. Then, to its right, a fur-covered knee touched down before being covered by some rough white cloth. Two massive hands, with fingers at least as long as Sam was tall and ending in some sort of dark-colored bony material, crashed down on both sides of the human.

Sam gulped. He didn't want to look up. He really didn't. But his eyes slowly went up and up, to stare into the face of the biggest, and angriest, bull that he'd ever seen.

The bull, a minotaur, Sam realized, glared down at the miniscule intruder, its- his- cold blue eyes watching, studying. The nostrils of his bovine nose, sporting a gold ring, flared as his breath washed over the tiny human.

"Why are you here?" The minotaur demanded in his deep gruff voice.

Sam gulped and tried to speak, but couldn't.

"I asked you a question, human," the giant bull snorted.

"I… I was chased. By a, a bear." Sam managed to squeak.

"Bear," the bull huffed as he continued to glare at the intruder.

"Y-yes sir. Chased me here."

The two were quiet for a few moments, just trying to take each other in.

"Gonna run?" the minotaur asked finally, still wearing a stern expression.

"Should I?"

"Everyone runs, so I'd say yes."

Sam took a half-step closer. "How come?"

The bull's eyes narrowed. "Are you dense? Everyone runs from monsters!"

Another half-step. "Well, I'm not."

The bull leaned closer. "You may be stupid, then."

"Or I don't think you're a monster," Sam replied with a hint of a smile.

Squinting at the strange human, the minotaur adjusted his position so he was sitting. "You're the strangest human I've encountered for quite some time." He adjusted the shoulder of what Sam now recognized as a toga. The bull calmly reached down and carefully grabbed the human around the waist with two bony-ended fingers and lifted him up to his face. "Well, since you refuse to leave the presence of a monster, I suppose introductions are in order," the bull sighed as he deposited the human into his palm. "My name is Rheneas, and this cave is my home."

Once he'd steadied himself in the middle of a giant hand, Sam looked up at Rheneas and smiled. "Neat name. What's it mean?"

"It's an old word that means 'waterfall'. I was born near a falls many years ago," Rheneas answered, before carefully nudging the human with a finger. "Now, what sort of neat name does my little intruder have?"

"Well, my name's Sam. Short for Samson," the human replied with a smile. "Mom wanted a good strong name."

The giant minotaur nodded. " 'And Samson said, With the jawbone of a donkey, heaps upon heaps, With the jawbone of a donkey, I have slain a thousand men.' " He gave Sam another gentle poke. "You don't have the appearance of someone who can perform such a feat, though. A thousand men might even be a bit much for a monster like me."

Sam leaned on Rheneas' hard-ended finger. "You're not a monster. A little bigger than most folks, but not a monster."

Rheneas snorted. "Perhaps you are blind as well," he mused. "Do you not see the great beast before you?"

"Yeah, I see you in front of me," Sam replied nonchalantly. "But I don't see a beast, or a monster. I see… Rheneas, a large and so far very interesting minotaur. Honestly, if you were a monster, you would've thrown me in a birdcage, or crushed me in your hand. Maybe eaten me as a snack."

"I have no birdcage, I don't want blood on my hand, and my teeth are not ideal for eating meat," Rheneas responded flatly.

"See?" Sam pressed. "More proof! If you were actually a monster, you wouldn't care!" He smiled victoriously. "You're gonna have to face facts, Rheneas. I don't think you're a monster, and I want to talk and get to know you better."

The giant opened his mouth to argue, but couldn't think of a good counter. He tried again, only to fail. He huffed, defeated. "Very well. It seems there is no ridding myself of you."

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a crash of thunder. He turned around in Rheneas' palm to look outside. A storm had moved in as the pair talked, and rain was now coming down in sheets.

Sighing, Rheneas put his free hand on the floor. "Hold on, Samson. I'm going to stand up." With the human hanging on to his thumb, the giant slowly pushed himself to his hooves, before turning and making his way deeper into the cave.

"How long have you had this thing?" Sam asked as he tried to get both hands on the splinter buried near Rheneas' thumb.

"About three days. I've tried to dig it out but I can't get close enough, especially with my fingertips the way they are."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, wanted to ask about that. Okay, that's it, making some headway," he muttered as he got one hand under the wood fragment. "What are your fingertips made of?"

Rheneas drew a hissing breath as he felt the splinter move. "They're keratin, like my hooves. Can you hurry up? That kinda hurts."

Both hands now grasping the splinter, Sam nodded. "Here goes nothing to nowhere," he muttered as he pulled.

The splinter didn't move, but Rheneas flinched a bit.

Sam braced one foot against Rheneas' hand and squared his shoulders. "I said come outta there!" he growled as he pulled hard. He felt the giant flinch beneath his foot, but he kept pulling. Slowly, the sliver began to move, and Sam pulled harder. Grunting, he quickly adjusted his grip and gave another herculean yank. The splinter came out and Sam fell, landing on his back, looking up toward Rheneas.

The giant sighed with relief and looked down at Sam, smiling. "Thank you very much!" He grinned, his ears wiggling happily as he carefully slid a hand under Sam, helping the human to his feet. "That splinter has been bothering me, interrupting nearly every task I've had to perform with that hand." Rheneas sighed again and flexed his hand. "Ah, relief."

Sam tossed the stick aside. "Hey, no problem. Happy to help, big guy."

Rheneas sighed. "Well, since you have performed a kindness for me, I suppose I owe you something in return. Name it, and I'll do whatever I can to help."

Sam looked up at Rheneas, then at the ground, thinking. "Are there limits to this thing?" he asked, looking back up at the minotaur.

The bull rubbed the back of his neck. "Noo… well… not many," he finally conceded. "I may have to draw a line if you were to ask me to, say, attack your town and enslave its citizens, or raze a fortress. But no, there's not really a limit."

Turning back toward the mouth of the cave, Sam took a few steps across the stone platform that served as Rheneas' table. He stood quietly for a few moments. "Could you help me get back home?" he inquired finally. "After this storm passes, of course. Don't want you getting wet and sick."

Rheneas' cool blue eyes dropped. "I don't know about getting you all the way home, human. I've never left this forest since I was a boy- er, a calf-... a youngling." His ears drooped and he slumped down till his chin rested on his arms.

Sam turned back to the giant bull. "Never?"

"Never," Rheneas mumbled.

The human walked back to Rheneas. "I'm sorry to hear that. How long has it been?"

A shrug was his only response.

Hesitantly, Sam reached out with one hand toward the giant's face. Rheneas watched as the human's hand slowly moved closer, finally coming to rest on his forehead.

"You've been alone the whole time?" Sam asked quietly as he began to gently stroke Rheneas' face, from forehead to nose.

The giant nodded.

"I'm sorry, Rheneas," Sam softly said. "I'm sorry you've been alone for so long. This must be the longest conversation you've had in a long time, huh?" He continued gently petting the bull's face.

"Mm-hm," Rheneas rumbled. The human's soft tone and gentle touch were hypnotic, and something that the giant didn't realize he'd needed so desperately. Tears began to well up in his cool blue eyes, and he sniffled.

Sam looked into Rheneas' eye, before bringing up his other hand. He began to run circles in the giant's thick fur. How does that feel, Rheneas? That okay?"

The giant nodded. "It feels, *hic*, feels really g-good," he whimpered, tears threatening to fall.

"It's okay, buddy. Let it out, I won't think less of you," Sam soothed as he continued to massage.

Rheneas sniffled and whimpered, trying to maintain composure, until the dam finally broke. Being thought of as an equal, receiving help out of the kindness of another, the soft words and gentle touch… it was all too much for the giant, who couldn't remember the last time any of these things had happened.

Sam continued to massage, as well as whisper soothing words to the sobbing giant. "It's okay, I'm here for you. Go ahead, let it out, you're safe here…"

Finally, Rheneas' sobs subsided til they were reduced to heavy breaths. Slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and tear tracks streaked his fur.

Sam, with one hand on the giant's fur, slowly climbed over the chiseled-muscle arms and made his way to Rheneas' right eye. "Here, let's get that taken care of," he said softly, before removing his jacket and using it as a handkerchief, dabbing the giant's eye dry.

Rheneas sniffled and, with a growing smile, brought both hands up and gently held the human to his cheek in a nuzzle. "Thank you hum- er, Samson. Thank you Samson. This means so much, I could never tell you," he whispered.

Leaning into the nuzzle, Sam stroked the side of the giant's tear-stained face. "You deserve kindness, just like everyone else. Don't ever forget that, friend."

Friend. A happy tear rolled down Rheneas' cheek, and he laughed.

#g/t writing #g/t fluff #minotaur #oc: rheneas #oc: samson

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paragonrobits · 3 years

Text

“I’ve been thinking,” Doctor Banner said, ominously. “About what gamma transformations mean.”

He didn’t mean to be ominous. Kamala had gotten used to his eccentrics, and she’d figured that he just got like that when he was comfortable around you. That meant a lot; Doctor Banner had, according to what she’d heard from people who’d known him before the Accident, always been a tightly wound nervous wreck wildly swinging from vitriolic outbursts to constant terror of social interactions. If he was being open enough to indulge in his favored aesthetic of ‘Morally Ambigious Mad Scientist about to do horrible things with your brain and a straw’, it meant you registered as a non-threat. And this was a man who got startled by flies landing near him.

Okay. A fly that landed on him last Tuesday had actually been a demon sent by the dread Beezel Bub, surly lord of flies, envy and macho posturing, assigned to drag him into hell. Again. So maybe his paranoia was justified.

Now Doctor Banner wheeled back on a spinny chair towards a wall covered in photos; of known gamma mutants, and people Kamala hadn’t known were gamma mutants; she saw the Canadian hero Sasquatch, and linked to him was a photo of a popular football player turned physicist. There was Bruce’s cousin, Jennifer, and her outrageously gorgeous and buff alter ego, She-Hulk (whom for some reason, was centered right in the middle, as if the whole theory rested on her). And then, there was Bruce’s wife... and her own gamma transformation, a huge and crimson-red harpy snarling at the camera.

A photo of a scowling general with a distinctive mustache, and a much larger red brute, built on broadly the same scale as the Hulk Kamala usually saw, and only the connection between the two indicated they were the same. A Russian soldier with an aloof expression, Emil Blonsky scribbled beneath it, and then a grotesque thing, a shambling parody that was only barely human in basic shape. Next to this was Rick Jones, the Hulk’s friend, and his own blue variation on that same transformation. Perhaps it was just that Kamala knew him, a friendly and affable teen hero, but somehow even his abominable transformation looked less horrific and more... soft, somehow.

And of course, Bruce himself. Given the nature of his own transformation, he didn’t have just the one comparison. There was himself, and the more well-known Hulks. The Savage Hulk himself, green and bellicose and looking strangely vulnerable. The Professor Hulk, looking so much like Bruce that it was easy to miss that he was an idealized image of Bruce, the Bruce that he most desperately wanted to be. Joe Fixit, in both versions Kamala knew of; an incredibly grotesque gray-skinned brute with cracked skin glowing green from within, and Bruce himself, or at least Joe taking the wheel. Both of them wore the same kind of nice suit, and had similar devilish grins.

Scribbled beneath that were a few notes: ‘Phases of Moon??’ ‘Only fully transforms at night = feelings of shame? Repression??” “mystical associations of lunar transformations?? BRUCE DID YOU MAKE A WEREWOLF THAT IS AWESOME - Joe”

There were a few others there too, with sparser notes. But now Doctor Banner was talking again.

“Gamma mutation takes a wide variety of forms; its not just getting big and green. Oh, it was never like that. Certainly, the green is a theme... who knows why? It’s pretty obvious that whatever I called down in the desert, it’s more magic than actual gamma radiation. Mystical associations; narrative thematics, the hidden parts of ourselves we don’t want to admit are there. That stuff I called gamma lets it loose...”

He tapped a pen nervously against his hand. Ink splashed against his skin, and his eyes were too blinded by the light of inspiration flooding in to notice.

“So why do I become a big green man with just enough differences from a human to look wrong, and why does something like Blonsky happen? And Rick?”

He pointed at Sasquatch. “Take Walter, now. Why does he look like an ape-man? I always knew he had an affinity for cryptid stories, and I know that not long after he changed, something from outside got into him. Some kind of... spirit, not dissimilar from his own form. Maybe it influenced him.

But then, Walter always hated that no one wanted him for his mind. They only wanted a meathead. So when he tried to become like me, he dropped down that ladder, into something like an ape, magnifying the whole... idea that he was just a brute force beast.”

Then, he rotated his chair, towards Emil Blonsky.

“Emil, Emil,” he said, distractedly, as if trying to remember the man that had been there. Had he ever really known Emil Blonsky? Had there been anything to know, or had the man always just been playing a part, biding his time to act on his agenda? “Jekyll and Hyde. That’s you. A man who so desperately wanted authority, power and influence... but at the same time, you hated the restraint. You wanted to cut loose... and then the power to fight me on even ground came up, and you couldn’t resist. You let yourself become a Hulk, too, and it made you into something no one could ever attach to Emil Blonsky. You could be the beast you wanted to be, without consequence; just another bully, smashing up anything he liked.”

Bruce leaned in. “But you liked it too much, even if you couldn’t admit that to yourself. It was harder and harder to change back, return to the comfortable and respectable and boring life of Emil Blonsky. And then, that monstrous shape was the only one you could keep. Consequences remained after all.” He leaned back.

He examined the whole thing.

“Is it me?” He asked aloud. “Was I some kind of template that everyone else got modeled after, deliberately or otherwise? Or am I just the first example, and gamma is supposed to warp people into these reflections of their inner selves?”

Kamala piped up, “I heard Doc Samson thought that you somehow transmitted your condition to other people. He called it Hulk Syndrome.”

Bruce laughed out loud at that. “Samson’s great with dealing with people, and figuring out psychological solutions... but everyone in this business is a little bit cracked. Even the therapists, I suppose.”

#marvel #hulk #bruce banner #emil blonsky #mostly some ruminations on blonsky here #i really like this jekyll hyde vibe for him #i considered him just using a meat suit like Immortal Hulk Abomination #that he bonds with permanently and his body fuses to it #but it was a complicated thing and not really fitting the context #if so it would be known WHY he looks the way he does #my writing #fics

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: My Sweetest Downfall

Summary:

"The history books forgot about us and the bible didn’t mention us. Not even once."

A century after the war ended, one student gets a little too interested in the relationship between the commander and captain.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Note: Just a short self indulgent fic because I realized "Samson" by Regina Spektor fits Levi and Hange’s relationship a little too well.

You are my sweetest downfall.

I loved you first.

The memories were still connected.

It had been more than a century since the war ended but somehow people still saw the Eldians and the titans in their dreams. They saw it in the blood that splattered as the colossal titans flattened it. They saw it in the terrified faces as the titans approached the lands.

Even wide awake, they were never spared of the horrors. The Reiss family always made sure to remind the Eldians of the massacre that occurred that wiped away the whole world through history classes and tours around the most important places in Paradis. Always ending with one final message. Never again.

Samantha found herself in one of those dreams during one of those tours one day. The tours were nothing new. They were an alternative to classroom learning, to make the history lessons a little more memorable.

“Today, we will be following the formation of the alliance. If you remember from our last class…”

They were supposed to take down the founding titan. Everyone was silent. They all knew what happened already.

The founding titan finished its mission then disappeared. The curse was broken. The only country not left a wasteland by the disaster was Paradis.

And its Paradis’ duty to rebuild the world.

The silence around her and that brief moment of respite was what gave Samantha some leeway to look around and observe her surroundings. She couldn’t help but think, the forest must have looked the same centuries ago. The trees were too big to have been any younger.

So did the soldiers see the same view I’m seeing now? Suddenly, as she reflected on that thought, a brief realization dawned on her. Those same soldiers heard, saw, felt and experienced things she had only ever read about. They suffered in more ways that she could even imagine and fathom.

She shuddered at that conclusion, so violently that she found herself sprawled painfully on the dirt trodden path of the forest, a small glade where the weeds were starting to grow. She had tripped on the weeds.

“Hey are you okay?”

Her knee was bleeding and dirty. Her clothes were stained brown. They weren’t going home anytime soon. Any other day, something like that should have ruined her day. As she stood up and brushed whatever dirt off of her chest, she was far from angry. Apathetic maybe? A good balance between annoyed and curious. Or maybe her mind was just elsewhere.

The memories of the Eldians were connected. Samantha was seeing a memory of an Eldian who had lain in that same ground only a century ago.

“Maybe we should just live here together. Right Levi?”

My Sweetest Downfall

Captain Levi and Commander Hange.

Along with most if not all the members of the alliance and the survey corps, those two were household names. She recognized Hange Zoe by her chestnut brown hair, those almond eyes and the eyepatch. She had seen their photos many times when she opened the textbook and willed herself to memorize every event from the establishment of the survey corps to the formation of the alliance to prepare for a long test the next day

Captain Levi and Commander Hange were inseparable. It was evident in every group photo. But it was only natural that that was the case. In classes they would describe Levi as Hange Zoe’s right hand man. They were the two oldest veterans in the survey corps and they had worked together for over a decade before the establishment of the alliance.

Of course they would have trusted each other the most.

Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth. I have to go, I have to go

From the establishment of the survey corps to the formation of the alliance and the defeat that came after. She did not need to think hard to recall that Commander Hange did not make it until the end of the war. To buy the alliance time, she sacrificed herself and killed as many colossal titans as she could after quickly appointing the duty of commander to Armin.

Your hair was long when we first met

“Samson’s strength came from his hair.”

Samson and Delilah. In English class, they were reading thousand year old romances. Samantha’s mind was still in the one hundred year love story that had made itself at home in her mind and it looked like they had no plans of leaving soon.

Samson went back to bed

Not much hair left on his head

He ate a slice of Wonder Bread

And went right back to bed

“Levi, you have to eat more. Who knows how long you’ve been lying there after the explosion.” Despite her insistence, all Hange got in return was some unintelligible grumbling.

“Come on, I don’t want you to di--.” The word got caught in her throat and Hange found herself looking away. I’m just a little tired. She thought to herself. But do people cry when they're tired?

“One slice.” Levi managed to say.

It ended up being less than a slice. Hange had enough experience with soldiers to know though that if she had fed him anymore, he probably wouldn’t have been able to keep it down.

Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads

But they're just old light, they're just old light

Samson came to my bed

Told me that my hair was red

Told me I was beautiful

And came into my bed

Hange had always found the night sky beautiful. In fact, that was the only thing she could still lose herself in. Despite the dreariness of the night and the hopelessness of the situation, the night sky’s beauty was unchanging and unwavering.

“Your hair… looks red.”

“What?”

“Under the moonlight… it looks a little red.”

“You’re the first person who’s ever told me that.”

Maybe he was the only one who cared enough to notice.

Oh, I cut his hair myself one night

A pair of dull scissors in the yellow light

And he told me that I'd done alright

And kissed me 'til the mornin' light, the mornin' light

And he kissed me 'til the mornin' light

“Hold still. I need to change your bandages.”

It turned out, Levi was good at staying still. Hange was sure he was in a lot of pain. She saw it in the way he clenched his jaw and his fists. There shouldn’t have been any recoil as she cut through the bandages but even that slight movement had him recoiling. Hange wondered if with just the action of cutting bandages, she was applying unnecessary pressure on his wounds, and consequently, pain.

Levi was awake the whole time. Despite that, changing bandages was a smooth and peaceful process.

“You did a good job. I’ve changed bandages multiple times before for injuries like this. You’re the first one who didn’t even make a peep.”

“Maybe you just did a good job,” Levi said.

She didn’t notice at first but as she had been slowly leaning closer to Levi since a while ago.

I just need to get a closer look at his wounds. That had been her first excuse.

Something at the back of her mind was protesting that though. She didn’t need to look that closely to see the state of his injuries.

Then he kissed her. He only needed a slight movement from his end. That was how close Hange had been to him. Before Hange could comprehend what had happened, she willed herself to close her eyes and instead chose to enjoy the moment.

When she finally opened her eyes, it was morning and they had a war to fight.

My Sweetest Downfall

“Didn’t you tell me before that history is an argument? This is an argument. Why can’t I take this topic for my final research?” Samantha asked.

Her teacher sighed. “Your arguments should be evidence based. Do you have any evidence that Commander Hange and Captain Levi were in a relationship? Do you have letters? Documents?”

“I could look for mo--”

“Besides, they wouldn’t have had time anyway. They had a war to fight.” He continued, as if Sam hadn’t just tried to answer him a second ago. “How much content do you have anyway?”

My dreams. She would have wanted to argue.

She had been a student long enough to know that he wanted hard facts. The harsh reality was, there were no hard facts to go by. The week before, she had spent her time scouring the libraries for anything about the two of them. There were records on Hange Zoe and records on Levi Ackerman but no records that had connected them together as more than comrades in the military.

Why do you keep seeing love in everything? She scolded herself, a way to quell the disappointment inside her as she exited the faculty room. Maybe it was her immaturity that had spurred her to see the romance in that. She had spent weeks on that proposal and she had to start from nothing again.

Even when she tried to forget them, the dreams continued to haunt her for a while longer but she didn’t mind. She wanted to know what had happened to the commander and to the captain.

The last dream she ever remembered was watching the sky. As she looked closer, she saw Commander Hange flying, killing colossal after colossal as she soared.

It was her first time seeing that scene but she recognized it almost instantly.

That was Commander Hange’s heroic sacrifice, the one they had recounted in textbooks.

In the distance, she heard something else, something her textbooks had failed to mention.

One final farewell. See you later, Hange.

Oh, we couldn't bring the columns down

Yeah, we couldn't destroy a single one

And the history books forgot about us

And the Bible didn't mention us

And the Bible didn't mention us, not even once

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #drabble

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ladyreapermc · 4 years

Text

Fic: Treat me like your boyfriend (Matt x fem!Reader)

Summary: when Matt asked you to tutor him, you weren’t aware of the mess you were about to step in.

Author’s notes: Dear anon, I’m sorry it took me so long, but your request is finally here and I hope you enjoy it. I was very rusty on writing teenagers and I definitely struggled with the love triangle aspect.

Wordcount: 6430 (yeah, it took a life of its own)

Warnings: a bit of teenage angst, mentions of drugs, bad language, but that’s it

The last thing you were expecting to see when you got out of cheerleading practice was Matt leaning on the hood of your car like he belonged there, arms crossed behind his head, face tilted up, almost as if to soak up the last warm sun rays of that October morning.

You didn’t even remember the last time you actually saw Matt, let along talked to him. Yes, you went to the same school but traveled in completely different circles and he wasn’t all the good with attendance, especially not after what happened last year with Samson and Jamie.

Once upon a time however, the two of you had been great friends. All through elementary school and a considerable part of middle school, the two of you had been inseparable, but then his father left and his family life deteriorated and he became angry and closed off and the two of you drifted apart. Now here he was, and you had no idea why.

“That’s my car,” you said, making him crack one eye open to look at you.

“I’m aware,” he replied but didn’t move an inch and you sighed.

“What do you want, Matt?”

“Oh, so you actually remember who I am. That’s nice.” This time at least he sat up on the hood, looking you up and down with a smirk tucked on his lips.

“What. Do. You. Want?” you repeated with a glare, crossing your arms over your chest and you noticed Matt’s gaze shift, the tough guy mask slipping a bit and you could almost see the boy you used to know.

“I’m failing history,” Matt admitted in a low voice, eyes downcast. “I’m on probation. I can’t fail. I need you to tutor me.”

“No,” you said, pulling the passenger door of your car open so you could put your backpack away. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” he asked, giving you a look. “Afraid of what your popular friends will think if they see you hanging out with someone like me?”

There was a barely disguised disdain in his tone and it made you feel guilty. Even if you didn’t like to admit it, it was one of the reasons but there was also the fact that between school, practice and your part-time job, free time was almost inexistent for you. Even your boyfriend Derek had been complaining about not seeing you enough.

“I really can’t. I’m sorry,” you sighed.

“Please, Skittles,” he said, and you snorted at the old and ridiculous nickname after your favorite candy. “You’re my only hope.”

“Fine!” You huffed, taking a second to think through your schedule. “Tomorrow at 4. Joe’s diner. Do you know?”

“Yeah.” Matt flashed you a gorgeous smile as he jumped off the hood of your car and your lips twitched up too. “Thank you! You’re really saving my life here.”

“I know. So, don’t be late or I won’t do it.”

---

As you cleared the tables at the restaurant, you couldn’t help but glance at the clock on the wall and heave a sigh. It was fifteen past four and Matt had yet to show up for his lesson. You should’ve known he would flake out. He barely showed up to school as it was, why would he bother to come for a tutoring lesson?

You rolled your eyes at your own stupidity. You had to rearrange your whole work schedule, changing shifts with one of your coworkers so you could tutor Matt here while Derek was at football practice.

It wasn’t as if you thought you were doing something wrong by seeing Matt or anything stupid like that, but you knew Derek would freak if he found out you were hanging out with the other boy. Your boyfriend was a little overprotective sometimes and he always thought Matt and his entire clique were delinquents. You just wanted to avoid the hassle, so you kept the entire thing from him. Not that there would be anything to tell since Matt stood you up.

The small bell above the entry door of the diner rang and you looked up to see Matt stepping inside, sweaty and out of breath as he looked around. His expression drew into that gorgeous smile when his gaze landed on you.

He had changed quite a lot from the lanky boy you had known back in middle school. For one, he had gotten considerably taller and muscles had filled him out quite nicely. He had grown out his hair and it framed his face in messy waves, but it really suited him.

“Hey! Sorry, I’m late. Bus took forever,” he explained and you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to turn around and leave.

“That’s ok. Just grab a booth and I’ll be right with you,” you said, hands busy with a tray of steaming plates.

He grinned and obeyed, ignoring the stink eye he was getting from some of the customers. His outfit screamed outcast and he stuck out like a sore thumb in the traditional diner.

You moved to the table to deliver the orders, sending a silent prayer that there wasn’t anyone you knew in the diner before calling out that you’d be taking your break and sliding on the seat across from Matt.

“So where are you having trouble? Classic? Medieval? Modern?”

“Everything.” Matt took out a crumpled paper from his backpack, handing it to you. It was one of his tests and the bright red F made you wince.

“Ok,” you sighed, returning the paper to him. “Then I guess we start at the beginning,” you took hold of his textbook and opened in the first chapter. “Take notes. I’m not gonna repeat myself and there will be pop quizzes.”

“Alright,” he said combing his hair away from his eyes. He pulled out a notebook that was falling apart and a pen that seemed to be completed chewed out. “Oh! I almost forgot…” he dug through his backpack until he came out with a package of skittles, pushing towards you with a smile. “As a thank you for helping me.”

You smiled too as you ripped the package open popping a couple of candies on your mouth before shaking a few on his waiting hand.

“Let’s begin.”

----

“I can’t believe you’re skipping Shelley’s party! It’s like the event of the year!” Dana exclaimed, pulling a face at you and you rolled her eyes. To your friend and head of the cheerleader squad, every party was the event of the year.

“It’s not like I’m skipping on purpose,” you replied, trying to find a better position against Derek, who had his arm around your shoulders. You usually loved to be cuddled up like this. But when you were in the middle of the cafeteria trying to have lunch using only one hand it was kind of hindrance. “I have to work.”

Unlike Dana and Derek who’s parents paid for everything they could possibly want, your father was a police officer that worked his ass off to keep your house functioning so you had to work to buy the things that you needed that weren’t his priorities. Your car needed repairs and you had your eye on a dress for homecoming dance that would cost you almost a month’s salary.

“Can’t you change shifts or something?” Derek asked with a pout and you had to fight a grimace. The only reason you had to work at the time of Shelley’s party was that you had changed your hours so you could tutor Matt.

“I’ll just go to the next one,” you replied with a small, apologetic smile, but it wasn’t enough to soothe Derek if his sour expression was anything to go by.

“Fine!” Dana huffed, throwing her long hair over her shoulder, her eyes shifting to a point beyond your shoulder, her expression shifting into one of distaste. “The creeper is staring at you again.”

You glanced back to see Matt sitting alone a couple of tables over. As soon as he noticed you looking, he quickly lowered his gaze back to the book in front of him his hair falling over his eyes, so he had to comb it back with his fingers.

“Someone’s got an admirer,” Dana teased with an evil smirk. “A killer admirer.”

“He didn’t kill anyone, Dana,” you replied in autopilot.

You had been spending at least three afternoons a week with Matt for the past month and the two of you had grown closer again. It was almost as if the time you two hadn’t spoken for didn’t even exist.

Matt was still an angry guy. You could see in the bursts of irritation he sometimes would get when he messed up an answer or when people were being deliberately judgy of him at the diner or when talking about the crappy deal he got in life and with his family. Other than that, he was as sweet as you remembered. Also funny and kind and you loved spending time with him. Around him, you could be as nerdy and weird as you wanted because he never judged you. It was liberating really.

“And how would you know?” Derek asked with a frown of confusion.

You knew because your dad had been one of the officers involved in the case, but also because Matt told you how the entire thing had gone down.

“My dad worked the case,” you said with a shrug. “And besides, I don’t think they would let him be here if he had actually killed anyone.”

“Still, I don’t like the idea of him watching you,” he said, glaring over his shoulder. “If he comes anywhere near you…”

“He won’t, Der. Don’t worry,” you assured, distracting him with a kiss, before getting up. “I gotta go. I have to deliver an essay to Mr. Sheppard for extra credit.”

You managed to get to the hallway outside the cafeteria before Derek caught up, pulling you back into his arms.

“Baby, you have enough extra credit to buy an entire university at this point,” Derek said with a pout and you chuckled. “I barely get to see you anymore.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” you said, pecking him on the lips. “Tonight. After my shift. Swing by? My dad won’t be home until later.”

“Ok.” he smiled happily and just as you were about to step away he pulled you back once more, catching you into a longer, deeper kiss that had your knees weak and you grinning against his lips. “I see you tonight.”

You were still smiling as you headed off, not towards Mr. Sheppard’s office, but to the football field, where you met Matt by the bleachers. He has a forlorn look on his face and that was enough to make your good mood flight right out of you.

“How was it?” you asked, and he sighed, digging through his backpack.

It was his first test since you two started the tutoring lessons. You hoped they had been enough to make him improve because you could tell Matt was getting frustrated with everyone pounding on him about his grades and probation.

He handed you the folded paper and it made your heart thunder in your heart just as much as getting the results of your own tests did.

“Look, Matt, it is just the first test,” you started before even looking at the grade. “It’s ok if it isn’t a good one just yet. We’ll keep working on it and you’ll see…” you trailed off as you finally looked at the test, the C+ staring back at you and when you looked up at him, Matt had a cheeky little grin in his face.

“You jerk!” You exclaimed punching him on the shoulder as he laughed. “You really made me think…”

“I’m sorry!” he said between giggles, trying to dodge your hands. “You’re just so damn easy, Skittles!” Matt looked so good like this. Bright and happy and playful. It made your heart jump.

“I’m really proud of you,” you said pulling him for a hug, your face coming to the crook of his neck due to the height difference and you breathed deep into his scent without meaning to.

“Thanks,” he replied with a soft smile when you pulled back. “Can you help me with Math too?”

“Absolutely!”

---

Even though it was your day off, here you were at Joe’s diner, in the booth it was quickly becoming yours and Matt’s regular seats. Instead of sitting across from him, you were at his side, studying his profile as he frowned over the math problem you had presented him.

You watched as his untamable hair fell over his face and you resisted the urge to push back so you could better look at him, watch the way his brows knitted together in concentration and how he squinted his soft brown eyes at the page, nose crinkling slightly in displeasure as he tapped the pen against his lips, which were framed by a shadow of stubble, just like his sharp jawline… Shifting in your seat, you forced your gaze away, taking a drink of water.

After two months all employees and regular clients at the diner got used to Matt’s presence and no one even gave the two of you a second glance anymore, which was a small blessing. You finally managed to relax around him when Matt came around, which meant you caught yourself staring at him way too often while he worked, your mind wondering dangerous things, like if his hair was as soft as it looked or how Matt’s lips would feel against yours.

Those thoughts always filled you with guilt because you had a boyfriend. A nice, kind and sweet boyfriend that you loved, and you shouldn’t be thinking such things about Matt when he was your friend and you were in a relationship and…

“Got it!”

His excited tone startled you back to the present and you watched as he scribbled down on the page before he turned it to you with a bright, hopeful smile and your heart leaped in your chest as you got caught in those brown eyes for a second too long.

Clearing your throat and feeling your cheeks warm, you looked down at the notebook to check his answer, your lips twitching into a proud smile.

“That’s exactly it,” you declared, looking up at Matt again and his lips now showed a wide grin as he cheered and threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a sideways hug.

“You owe me fries and a milkshake,” Matt said, still grinning and you snorted.

“If I’d known that was all it took for you to learn math, I’d have done it weeks ago,” you joked waving at one of the waitresses to place your order, trying to pretend you weren’t acutely aware of the fact the Matt hadn’t taken his arm away from your shoulders and you really didn’t want him too.

“So, there’s a movie with that guy from that sci-fi movie you like in the theaters,” Matt said, his tone a little hesitant as the two of you sipped milkshakes and shared fries.

“That’s specific,” you chuckled, noticing how he seemed to blush a little. “Fortunately, I do know which one you’re talking about. I’m dying to see it.”

“Yeah?” Matt looked up; eyes bright with excitement. “Maybe we could go? Together, I mean.”

For a moment, all you could do was stare at Matt in stunned silence. Was he asking you out on a date? And why on Earth did you want to say yes so bad?

“As friends, of course,” he quickly added, and you could barely hide your disappointment. His own words and the way he avoided your eyes showed his chagrin.

“Maybe, but…” you sighed, looking away, the words stuck to your throat.

“I get it, Skittles,” Matt said, at last, gathering his things, head ducked as he stood up. “Thanks for the lesson.”

He was off and away from the diner before you even process what happened. Your eyes burned and you could taste bile and guilt on the back of your throat as you swallowed around the painful lump, before picking up your bag and standing up.

Suddenly being in the diner without Matt felt unbearable.

----

Derek’s lips traveled down your neck, his weight pressing you down on the bed as his hand squeezed your thigh, inching dangerously close to the hem of your skirt. This was hardly the first time you’ve done this, touch each other like this and he was doing everything you loved but it just felt awkward and uncomfortable.

You couldn’t bring yourself to relax and your mind kept wandering to all the wrong places. You couldn’t help but picture a slender frame on top of you, instead of broad chest chiseled by years of football practice. Dark brown hair instead of light, almost blonde hair. Scratchy stubble instead of a smooth cheek. Deep chocolate eyes, instead of hazel…

“Wait, wait,” you asked, pushing at Derek's chest and he sighed, lifting his head to look at you.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” You looked away, afraid of giving yourself away. “I just… I don’t feel like it tonight.”

“Ok.”

Derek sat up on the bed, running his hand through his hair, another heavy sigh escaping his lips and you could see frustration shining in his eyes. Not because you said no, but because he had been picking up the change in your mood for days now and he could figure out what was wrong and you couldn’t exactly come forward and explain it either.

“Do you wanna go downstairs and watch a movie or something?”

You shrugged and your gaze darted around your room because you couldn’t bear to look at Derek. It landed on an unopen bag of skittles.

Matt always brought you some whenever you were tutoring him so there was always one around and you felt like the most horrible person in the world. Here you were with such a sweetheart for a boyfriend, but your mind kept shifting over for the last person you should get involved with.

“I have homework to finish,” you said instead, guilt gnawing your gut.

You knew Derek knew you were lying, but he still got up, picking up his leatherman jacket as he headed out of your room without another word. No goodbye, no kiss or hug. Just silence that felt heavy and awful and made you flop on your bed, tears welling in your eyes.

What was wrong with you? Why were you ruining life that you had spent most of your high school years building because of a guy? Who you didn’t even know liked you back?

----

You were fresh from your shower after cheerleader practice, hair still wet and hanging loose over your shoulders when you walked up to your locker to grab your chemistry book and found the note.

With a smile, you didn’t even bother to look it over, knowing what it said. Instead, you just shoved inside your pocket, while you pushed your book into your backpack, before rushing off. You had only fifteen minutes before class and the bleachers were on the other side of the school.

As expected, Matt was waiting in the familiar hiding spot, puffing on a cigarette that he put out as soon as he saw you, since he knew you hated the smoke. His smile was wide and bright and enough to make you grin because he was holding a sheet of paper and you knew exactly what that was.

“An A!” he announced, showing you his latest history test. “I got a fucking A!”

“That’s amazing, Matt! Congratulations!” you cheered all but jumping in his arms for a hug and he caught you easily. Tucking you closer to his chest.

“I haven’t gotten an A since middle school,” he commented with a grin, looking down at you. “Thank you so much, Skittles.”

“Don’t thank me. It was all you,” you said, meeting his eyes.

You were still wrapped in his arms, your gaze locked with his and there was something there that made your breath catch in your throat and your heart speed in your chest. You saw the way Matt’s gaze felt to your lips, before coming up to your eyes again and all you wanted was for him to close the distance, press his lips against yours. You actually thought he was going to do it until you hear someone clearing their throat behind you and jumped back and away from Matt.

When you turned around to look, Dana stood there, hands on her hips, green eyes narrowed as she glared at you, lips pressed in a tight, displeased line. Panic flooded your chest because there was no way to explain what was happening except with the truth and you knew how Dana felt about cheating.

There was no other way to spin it, was there? You were cheating on Derek. Or at least you were about to if Dana hadn’t walked in when she did.

You looked back at Matt and he looked pale and worried as his gaze darted from you to your best friend. Lying a gentle hand on his shoulder, his eyes meet yours. When did the two of you become so good at communicating with just one look, you didn’t know, but Matt just nodded, grabbed his things and walked away.

“Of all the guys in this school, you’re doing this with psycho stoner Matt?” Dana exclaimed and you winced, not sure what was worse: the shrill tone of her voice or her words.

“He’s not a psycho!” you defended almost on autopilot. If anyone was being the asshole in this whole situation, it was you and Matt didn’t deserve to be treated that way. “It’s just happened. I never meant…”

You rubbed your eyes, fighting against the wave of tears. All the confusion and doubt and guilt bubbling to the forefront and words poured out of you as you told Dana everything, how it started, how your feelings began to change, until the scene she witnessed today.

“Do you love Derek?” she asked, her expression softening, becoming understanding. This was why Dana was your best friend. No matter her shortcomings, she was a good person.

“I, uh, yeah?” you replied with hesitation, tone uncertain. You did love Derek right? You’ve been together since freshman year and he was such a great guy.

“It’s fine if you don’t,” Dana said, but her expression was a little sad. Derek was her brother after all. “People fall out of love. And I will never understand what you see in Matt of all people, but you can’t lead them on. Either cut Matt lose or break up with Derek.”

“I know,” you sighed, drying your cheeks because you did know and that’s why this was so hard for you. “I just need time to think. Make a decision.”

“One week,” Dana said, crossing her arms over her chest, her expression turning stormy. “After that, I’m telling Derek.”

All you managed was a nod.

----

Sitting on your usual booth at Joe’s diner, you drummed your fingers on the wooden table, your knee bouncing trying to work out some of the restless nervous energy thrumming through you as you waited for him.

A week had passed since your conversation with Dana and you finally made your decision. Surprisingly it took a conversation with your father to clear the air for you. It had been just the two of you since your mom died and even if he didn’t exactly know how to talk to you since you entered adolescence, he always tried.

So when he came back from his shift one night and found you bawling your eyes out, he sat you down on the couch and made you tell him everything that was going on. He had noticed you hadn’t been quite yourself lately and that night was the moment he figured he had given you enough space and it was time to be there.

You told him everything, just like you had done with Dana. Your dad was less than thrilled to know that you had been spending so much time with Matt without him knowing, but at the same time, he had worked the case, he knew Matt had been the only one in that group with a tiny shred of decency. He was, after all, the one who called the cops once he learned about Jamie.

“Sweetheart,” your father started, brushing away the tears from your face. “I won’t tell you what to do, but…”

“But what?” you sniffled, looking at him, vision blurry.

“The fact that you even fell in love with Matt while dating Derek says a lot, don’t you think?” he said in a low tone, his words making your heart ache.

“You’re right,” you whispered, letting out a shaky breath. “Thanks, dad.”

“I’m always here for you, sweetie,” he replied, kissing you on the forehead before letting you go.

That had been last night. After you washed your face and recomposed yourself more or less, you went to Derek’s. It was an awful conversation to have and you felt horrible for breaking his heart like that, but it wasn’t fair to him or you continue the way you were.

You barely slept and the first thing you did when you got to school was put a note on Matt’s locker, asking him to meet you at the diner after school. You had no idea if he was going to come. You had avoided him for an entire week, ignoring his notes and worried looked he threw your way in the halls and the cafeteria. He had all the right to ignore your request, but you prayed he wouldn’t.

The bell about the front door jiggled and your head snapped up, heart leaping to your throat when you saw Matt walking in, hand on his pockets, expression closed off. He made a beeline to your booth and you tried a smile which he didn’t return.

“So, you’re talking to me again?” his tone acid and cold and you flinched, forcing yourself not to look away.

“Look, after everything, I know I don’t deserve even a second of your time, but can we talk, please?”

With a sigh, Matt begrudgingly took a seat in front of you, his expression never wavering, his brown eyes staring you down, making you shift uncomfortably on your seat. Movies always made this seem so easy, but you were terrified.

“I broke up with Derek,” you said at last, once the silence between you two stretched to the point of painful. Matt’s eyes widened slightly at your words.

“Why?” he asked and once again the words seemed stuck in your throat.

“You know why,” you croaked, looking away.

“Do I? you’ve spent months treating me like a dirty little secret.” Matt all but spat, his eyes shining with hurt and your heart ached. “And then when the secret was out, you just ignored me like I was nothing!”

“You’re right and I was awful in this whole thing. To Derek and you,” you said with a sigh. “And I understand if you never want to see me again, but I like you, Matt. A lot. I love the way you frown when you’re thinking hard about something or how you smile when you’re right. I love how you look all tough and mean, but you’re actually really sweet when you let people in. I love how you let me in and I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but if you would let me try, I promise I will do my best to never hurt you like that again.”

“What about your reputation?” Matt asked, there was still hesitation in his tone, but mostly hope or so you thought. “Everyone thinks I’m a murderer.”

“I know the truth so fuck what everyone else thinks,” you declared, reaching for his hand, relieved that he didn’t pull it away. “Can we give it a try, Matt?”

“No,” he shook his head, taking his hand from under yours and standing up and you felt tears welling up in your eyes again as you watched him walking away.

---

When you walked into school the next Monday you could practically feel all eyes on you. It wasn’t such a big place so word about your breakup with Derek had spread like a wildfire exactly like you expected it would, making you wonder how much they knew.

You knew more than a few girls would be extremely happy about it. Derek was the quarterback of the football team, one of the most popular guys in the school they would most likely be lining up to replace you in his affections, especially with homecoming dance right around the corner.

Moving to your locker you let out a heavy sigh, trying to ignore all the stares, but at the same time, avoid thinking about the dress you bought for the dance that nearly cost you a month’s salary and apparently would go to waste because you had no one to go to the dance with.

Maybe it was a silly thing to worry about, but you did love school dances and all the silly rituals of passages they involved. You always felt like high school experience wouldn’t be complete unless you had a chance to go through these kinds of things.

With your biology book in hand, you close your locker door, turning around and running smack on Matt’s chest with enough force that you stumbled and he has to steady you with a hand on your elbow, his palm feeling large and warm against you skin.

“Hi!” you greeted, eyes wide in surprise. You didn’t expect him to ever talk to you again after yesterday and hope busted in your chest.

“You have my math notebook,” he said instead of a greeting, voice detached and hollow, successfully smothering the feeling.

“Right,” you nodded, trying to balance the book and dig through your backpack at the same time. It took a while, but you finally pulled out the notebook. “Listen, I still up for tutoring if you want. I know a lot has happened…”

“I got it,” Matt declared, cutting you off as he took the notebook from your hand. “Thanks.”

The last word was said in a dry tone as he walked away from you without a second look and you felt once again tears rising, your lungs constricting, but you forced yourself to take a deep breath. You’ve cried enough for boys in the last couple of weeks. You refused to cry even more. Once you felt you were in control again, you headed to class pretending not to notice the whispers.

If people didn’t know the reason why you and Derek broke up when the day started, they definitely guessed after this entire exchange. And by the time lunch rolled around, you already heard ten different and outrageous versions of the entire thing. It was getting hard and harder to ignore the whispers, but you were determinate to keep your head high because it wasn’t anyone’s business who you dated or not or why.

You got your tray and turned to your usual table where you could see the rest of the cheerleader team gathered, but before you could take a step towards it, Dana moved in your way, face drawn into a grimace and you knew exactly where this was going.

“So much for being my friend, huh?” You said with a snort and a head shake.

“He’s my brother. What you expected me to do?” Dana said with a shrug and you could see she was apologetic, but anger bubbled in your chest. “Just hand over your uniform at the end of the day.”

“Why wait?” you spat, dropping your tray with a little more force than necessary on a nearby table before you dug out the cheerleader uniform from your backpack and shoved in Dana’s chest. “There! Good luck making regionals without me.”

Suddenly without appetite, you turned on your heels and walked out of the cafeteria.

---

Two weeks later, you were hanging out at the bleachers, catching on your reading while you sat through the cheerleader team practice, taking great pleasure in seeing Bianca, your substitute messing up all the movements that came like breathing to you. Was it petty? Yes. But after everything you’ve been through these last feel days, you didn’t feel bad for your pettiness.

You snorted when she once against moved the wrong direction, making Dana stop the entire routine to chide her, but not before sending a glare your way like she knew you were mocking, which you definitely were. You only looked away from the scene unfolding in front of you at the sound of your name being called. Tilting your head up and shielding your eyes against the pale winter sun, you turned your attention to the sniggering football player hovering over you.

“I heard you like tutoring guys…” he started with a suggestive smirk and you rolled your eyes.

“50 bucks an hour,” you declared, gaze shifting back to your book.

“Is that what you charged psycho Matt?” the player asked, his voice dripping innuendo.

“No, I’m giving you the moron discount,” you replied with a little sarcastic grin and his expression shifted to anger as he took a step towards you.

“Hank!” Derek’s voice all but boomed and the guy stood to attention, looking a little guilty at the other boy. “Coach wants to see you.”

Tension made you sat straighter, fingers tightening over your book as you hurried to put your things away. You hadn’t seen or talked to Derek since the day you broke up and you preferred to keep that way for as long as possible. Apparently, Derek wasn’t having it because he followed you like a shadow.

“Can we talk?” he asked, voice so small you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. You’ve slowed your steps but couldn’t really bring yourself to look at him. “How have you been?”

“All of my friends refuse to talk to me; people keep whispering behind my back or calling me names to my face; guys keep propositioning because they think if I fucked Matt, will fuck anyone…” your tone is bitter, but after everything, how else could you deal with this? “I didn’t by the way. Sleep with Matt. We didn’t even kiss.”

“I know,” Derek sighed, coming to stand before you. “I believe you and I’m sorry this is happening.”

“It’s not your fault, Derek,” you sighed too, hands in your pockets. “Of everyone, you’re the only one completely blame-free in this entire mess and I hope one day we can be friends again.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, before you made your way back inside the school, completely unaware of the pair of brown eyes watching the entire exchange. Not until the end of the day when you made your way to your car and found Matt there, much like when this whole thing began a few months ago.

You had tried to talk to him more than once during the last couple of weeks, but he either ignored you completely. He was once again hanging out with the worst people in school, jeopardizing his probation and you wished you could just walk up to Matt and talk some sense into him, but you knew you couldn’t. So, finding him here seemingly waiting for you, smoking a joint surprised and annoyed you to no end.

“What you are doing here, Matt?” you asked, putting your stuff onto the passenger seat before you glanced back at him.

“I’m here to congratulate you,” he said, jumping off the hood of your car. “You almost had me going with that bullshit speech at the diner, but here you are, two weeks later already all chummy with Derek again.”

It took you a second to realize what he meant and all you managed was to shake your head and snort.

“I don’t know what you think you saw, but I don’t own you an explanation,” you said, sidestepping him so you could reach the car door, but as soon as you pulled open, Matt pushed it close again. “What the hell you want from me, Matt!? You won’t forgive me, you treat me like shit and now you want me to explain myself for talking to the only person in this school who isn’t treating me badly? Fuck you!”

You shoved at his chest, all the words stuck in your chest for the past month suddenly finding its way out, spilling from your mouth.

“My life was perfectly fine before you waltzed back in! I had friends, I had a loving boyfriend who I loved or at least I thought I did.” You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes as your tone lost its anger, leaving only sadness. “But then you came along all brooding and rebellious, but so sweet and gentle and I remembered what was like to really be in love with someone…”

Your words were cut off when Matt brought you closer, his lips finding yours in an urgent kiss that had you too stunned to move; your hands caught against his chest; your eyes wide open. Matt was kissing you. You could feel his stubble scraping your jaw and the taste of pot in his lips.

It took a moment for the shock to wear off. For you to start kissing him back because it was the only thing you’ve been wishing for this last month.

“Why?” you gasped once he let your lips go and rested his forehead against yours, breathing hard, his hands rubbing gentle circles on your back.

“Because I couldn’t get you off my head? Everywhere I went, everything I did, reminded of you and how much I missed you and I didn’t know what else to do. I’m not good at this.”

You knew what he meant. You were learning you weren’t all that good with this, with feelings, either.

“Maybe we can work it out together?” you asked, brushing some hair away from his face, watching as his expression opened in a small, hesitant smile, that was still so bright and one of the best things you’ve ever seen.

“Yeah,” Matt nodded and this time, the kiss didn’t take you by surprise. “I’d like that.”

xxx

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paigerambles · 3 years

Text

A happy belated birthday to my darling Gemma <3

(( four little drabbles based on some of our pairings )) @gemmamakeslists

A Dangerous Affair with Faith and Antonin

The door had closed much too loudly behind him. It mirrored the finality of this moment. Antonin had never pretended and that perhaps was what had made him so uniquely cruel. When he’d chosen her, when he’d decided to ‘see what happened’, he’d been open to feel whatever he might have. After all, the more open you were, the easier you were trusted. The more receptive you were to the little things she did, the more you noticed and became intrigued by. It was a dangerous tightrope he walked but Antonin hadn’t lost sleep about it. After all, he would always finish the job.

He was supposed to finish the job.

His hands never shook, not ever but tonight they betrayed him. If she had suspected, if she had been worried, it didn’t show. Instead, concern flashed across that almost unreadable face. That alone was a punch to the gut. Of course he didn’t exactly look his best. He was about to make the single most impactful decision of his life - his hair had not taken it well. Neither had the dark circles under his eyes, the palpable anxiety he felt causing a trickle of sweat to make its way down his neck.

If he made it quick, it could be a mercy. She was a target now and even if he let her go... It would be a life of looking over her shoulder. Faith may have been tougher than most but she wouldn’t survive, not now. Loneliness was easier to accept, to live with, when you hadn’t tasted the alternative. He knew that all too well now. This was just supposed to be another job. Another name scratched off a list. Another day.

What did it matter if he loved her? What did it matter that his father would kill him himself if he didn’t see this through? What did anything matter when she was looking at him like that, eyes hopeful and trusting and all too familiar with disappointment and pain?

The loaded gun felt impossibly heavy in his hands as he watched the colour slowly drain from her face as that trust started to falter. Surely not...? He couldn’t, he wouldn’t-

“Antonin-,” but he’d made his decision long before she breathed his name. In truth, he had made his decision long before even now. He had been interested every time she spoke, dizzied by her rare laugh and moved by the way she saw the world and all its dark, terrible corners. She’d danced with the devil and never known, until now. He took a step towards her and to her credit, to her grit, she barely flinched and did not move.

The cold touch of the metal ran up his spine as he put the gun away. Of course he put the gun away.

“We have to leave. Tonight. There’s no time to explain-,” his mind was moving faster now, catching up, calming down. This he could do. This he could manage without shaking. “They want you dead. My father, his organization. I won’t let that happen to you, do you understand?” Usually she would argue, questions, rage until she was blue or purple or red in the face. There was an ache in his chest as he saw the tears in her eyes, too stubborn to fall. Convincing her that his feelings were real would take time and maybe she’d never believe him which she was well within her right not to but that didn’t matter now. Now his only thought, his only goal, was to keep her safe.

Antonin stopped moving for long enough to look her in those burning blue eyes. It had to boil down to one thing now and it wasn’t love, it wasn’t longing or truth. It was this: “Do you trust me?”

And perhaps against her every better judgement, in that moment she nodded, gripping tightly onto his outstretched hand.

“Yes.”

A Reckless Serenade with Krystal and Luke

The pub was probably the dullest, stickiest, faintly rancid place in town but it let his band play and paid them in free drinks. So, really, who’s to complain? Luke was usually nervous before a show, anxious right up until he was bouncing around the stage and even then. Tonight he was especially nervous. Tonight, he’d asked the prettiest, coolest, sassiest girl from the record store to come to his show. He’d made some big song and dance about putting his homemade poster up in the store to which she’d said ‘nah, pal’. Luke had just been pleased as punch to chat with her anyway.

The likelihood of her actually showing up tonight... He wasn’t sure what made him more nervous. Would she? Wouldn’t she? He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was about Krystal Mercury but he thought an awful lot about holding her hand. That was enough to inspire screeds and screeds of poppy poetry, some of it beautiful even. When it came to writing a song, he could say it all. When it came to talking to her? Forget about it.

Now, all he had to do was convince himself that he wouldn’t be perfectly miserable if he didn’t see her tonight. It was a decent crowd, anyway. At least fifteen people. If you counted the bartender (which he always did). It was all peachy.

Except, he really wanted her to be in the crowd.

“Come on, mate.” Luke blinked at his band-mate, as if suddenly remembering the fact that the whole point of tonight was to play a show. Right, here we go. No matter what happ---

For half a beat, he held his breath entirely. After all, it wasn’t terribly well lit in here and he might have been mistaken. Although, wasn’t she quite unmistakable?

Krystal’s hair was down, hanging by the shoulders of her denim jacket with what he thought might have been sewn on patches for a splash of colour. She was here. When he met her eye, he reckoned he caught a smile and time might have slowed down. He’d always been hopeless and maybe even romantic but he never thought he’d get himself quite this tongue tied over someone. Not a very handy thing when you were the lead singer, mind.

Then just like that reality return and he opened his mouth at last, the sound of rip roaring guitar and faster-than-your-racing-heart drum beats filled the air, and his head. Luke felt giddy, elated and it wasn’t just from the adrenaline of playing a show. It wasn’t that at all.

“And truth be told, I’d be terribly content to hold your hand.”

Funny how much effort it took to make it seem like you were very cool and casual around someone you definitely didn’t feel cool or casual around. Luke gave it his best once he’d exited the stage.

“Alright, Songbird.”

“Well, you weren’t shite, then.”

Luke let out a laugh, still clad in his leather jacket despite the stage lights.

“Do you want to see backstage?” Luke took the world’s longest breath, holding out his hand.

“Backstage,” he shot her a grin at that comment. Fair enough, this was hardly the Grammy’s. Still, she took his hand.

A Brighter Day with Olivia and Ian

Ian Morrison had just been some guy on vacation when he noticed her. A totally normal, very stylish and slightly drunk guy on vacation. Olivia Winters had just been some girl working her part-time job and going to classes. Sometimes she remembered to text back her annoying BFF Samson too. She was perfectly normal, happy and a little bit no-nonsense especially when it come to guys on vacation who thought they were stylish.

It was perfect.

The first time Ian noticed her, she was sitting outside of a café with a stack of books and a black coffee. Her bangs threatened to cover her eyes, her brow was furrowed in concentration and she was about to lose one of her papers to a summer’s breeze. Now, being a perfectly normal, perfectly human guy, Ian had to run like a fool to catch it for her. Did he expect to be showered in thanks? No but a compliment on his Hawaiian shirt would have been nice.

Olivia didn’t even give him that.

The next time Ian sees her, she’s wearing dungarees and eating an overly shiny apple. He smells strongly of daytime tequila (it was vacation, after all) and was just on the way to meet his brother for a late lunch. Ian doesn’t have a good excuse this time but damn it all, he goes for it anyway.

“You know, an apple a day keeps the doctor away.”

“And what exactly would keep you away?”

“Pineapples. They freak me out.”

“There are at least seven pineapples on your shirt right now.”

“It’s a power play, I’m letting them know who’s boss so they don’t smell my fear. I’m playing the long game here. I’m Ian, BTW.”

“Right... Olivia, BTW.” She wasn’t nearly as accustomed to using the acronym out loud, hence the sarcasm.

“Well, I’ll see you around O-L-I-V-I-A,” he grinned, shooting her a wink. She rolled her eyes. She smiled. What a weirdo.

The next time again that Ian sees Olivia, the sun is setting over waves and he’s wearing shorter shorts than you might think appropriate for a Sunday evening. He was just giving the people something to smile about. He has his sunglasses on, sitting under one of those absurdly large beach umbrellas, half-asleep, when she sits herself down without even a ‘hello’. How rude. He didn’t mind.

“Here.” Ian opened his eyes lazily, glancing down at the apple in his palm. A smile tugged at his lips. What a weirdo. “For the doctor,” she added, as if that made sense. Ian let out a laugh. She felt funny but not in a bad way.

“Thank you, O,” he said around a crunch, peaking over at her before nudging his sunglasses down his nose. “So, you planning on sticking around or are you actually a mermaid en route to the sea? Either one is cool with me.”

“Not a mermaid. A sea-witch and if you’re not careful, you won’t leave here with all your fingers and toes still attached.” He was only almost certain it was a joke which only made Ian Morrison grin wider.

“Only one way to find out then.” Olivia stayed beside him long after the sun had set, telling herself it was fine because he was just some boy on vacation with a nice smile and a ridiculously warming laugh.

The last time Ian sees Olivia is when he’s on the bus, feeling a keen hangover as he presses his face against the cool glass. Mark Morrison is putting their luggage under the bus, making sure Ian has plenty of water and crackers for the uneasy ride back home.

Ian doesn’t know why or how he opened his eyes at exact, perfect moment to see her but he did. He was so glad he did. An easy smile came to his face and the same happened for her.

Olivia lifted her hand up in a wave, minimum effort and very meaningful all the same.

Ian pressed his palm to the window, dramatic and very meaningful all the same.

Mark made his way onto the bus, backpack in tow and Ian turned to shoot his best bro a grin and by the time he looked back around, Olivia was gone.

A Little Hope with Autumn and Oliver

There was only one bed in the motel and the bath tub was abysmal. Oliver would have taken the chair- it’s not as if he slept much these days anyway but Autumn had insisted. Well, perhaps that was the wrong word. She said he would be no good to her if he was exhausted and hadn’t he been the one who had dragged her into this mess? That he could not argue with.

Still, he couldn’t sleep.

Oliver wasn’t proud of the weakness, of the cruelty he had inflicted by having Autumn conjure up the soul of his beloved. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t know just how Angel had died, the fire, the explosion... The way that Autumn had to feel that just so he could have a scrap, a false echo of the woman he had loved more than anything in this wretched world. What’s worse is that he needed her to do it again.

Autumn needed the money. She needed to start over so if that meant sticking with Oliver DiLaurentis a little longer then fine. He shouldn’t have lied to her, shouldn’t have left out the part where there was a price on his head. They’d been on the run for weeks now and he had begged her to leave him to perish more than once. Autumn refused, for whatever reason.

Well, it was the money, wasn’t it? Of course it was. They had a deal. Had his father not taught him how to be a good businessman? He couldn’t back out of a deal. That would be dishonorable. How goddamn backwards his family had been. Were. Oliver turned on his side.

He owed Autumn his life, whatever was left of it. He would see this through. He’d protect her the way that he hadn’t been able to protect... To protect Angel. A haggard breath left his lungs as he looked over to her lying beside him. He felt his chest ache. Then-

Autumn turned, turned too far in fact and now she was leaning against his chest. Oliver stopped breathing. He hadn’t felt a moment of peace since the fire. Since he’d... Just, since. He doubted he’d ever feel a moment of peace again but for the briefest of moments, as he let out his breath, he felt the first real glimmer of hope that he might. It was a foolish, frivolous thought but he had it nonetheless.

Her breathing was even, her sleep yet to be interrupted. For reasons entirely beyond him, he gently touched her shoulder and felt the real weight of exhaustion he had been fighting off until now. He was bone tired, desperate for sleep but too scared to close his eyes. Autumn wasn’t though. From what he had seen of her, from what he had seen her do, he thought she was fearless. A survivor. Beautiful, in her own special way. He fought the thought off but still it whispered in the back of his mind- not like her though, not like Angel.

Oliver closed his eyes, a tear falling down his cheek. He didn’t move his hand from her shoulder and she didn’t move her head from his chest.

For the first time, he slept.

#gemmamakeslists #gemma #for you my dear <3

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