#watching this frame by frame i truly almost had a meltdown | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soldierswar · 3 years

Text

Kobik - Chapter I

Bucky x Reader

(Fluff, Angst)

Plot: You and Bucky's relationship is anything but ordinary. Something that you've been used to since day one. But one day when Bucky brings home an unexpected little guest with superpowers, you reluctantly find yourself thrusted into something close to parenthood much sooner than you had ever expected to be.

Notes: I've been obsessed with Kobik and Bucky's father/daughter relationship with her since I read the Thunderbolts comics. Enjoy protective dad!Bucky.

*Ring* *Ring* *Ring*

“I’ve got to change that ring tone,” was your first thought after your atrociously loud phone woke you up in the middle of your mid-day nap. But you always felt the need to keep it off silent when Bucky was away from you for emergency use.

You groggily propped yourself up and picked up the phone.

“Everything okay?”

“Let me guess. You just woke up?”

There were no signs of real distress in his voice. So why the hell was he calling instead of texting?

“Mmmmm,” you groaned.

You being an investigative journalist had just finished working on an important writing piece that took over a month and a half to write. A piece that involved multiple trips across the ocean for in-person research. So you were pretty exhausted nowadays.

“What’s up?” you asked mid-yawn.

“Y/N…I need you to meet me somewhere as soon as possible. At…our spot.”

Now you began to get worried.

You and Bucky had a special secluded spot in a nearby building that had been abandoned halfway through its being built years ago. It was safe to assume that it was just another private abandoned project after the blip that was never followed up on. So you and Bucky deemed it your secret place to go to if you needed to talk about something urgent where nobody could hear or see you.

“Are you in some kind of trouble? Do we need a lawy—”

“No, Y/N. It doesn’t have anything to do about me…for the most part.”

“For the most part?”

You could suddenly hear Sam’s voice echoing in the background again.

“How worried do I need to be, Barnes?”

He hesitated.

Those pauses always made you incredibly anxious, and he knew that.

“Are you safe? Are we safe?”

Another pause as he swallowed nervously.

“James?”

��I wouldn’t have called for you to come if I didn’t think that we’d be safe.”

You shook your head. And although he couldn’t see it, he knew you enough to know that that was exactly what you were doing.

“You trust me?”

“Would I have married you if I didn’t?” you sighed lightheartedly.

“I can be there in 30, okay?”

And before you could hang up he said those three words that almost never faltered in making you smile, even in the worst of time.

“I love you.”

…

Despite the fact that he said that there was nothing really to be truly worried about, you couldn’t help but feel a pulsing anxiety surge through your body. In the years that you had been together, you never really had to use your spot for any type of unexpected emergency.

You stumbled your way to the building being careful to not fall over the chunks of broken concrete protruding from the dirt before making your way to the door that was almost completely broken off minus two feet of it from the bottom still hinged to the door frame.

“Hey,” said a familiar voice.

You turned around to see your husband’s beautiful face. You hadn’t seen Bucky in almost a week, so when he wrapped you in his arms you had no choice but to feel nothing but comfort and warmth. But after a two-second tender moment, you snapped out of it.

“James,” you said.

“What is this about? Why am I here?”

Before he could say anything, you could hear Sam’s voice in another area of the house. It sounded almost as though he were giving orders to someone. Which was then followed by the echoes of a little childlike voice…

You shook your head and reasoned that you were either hearing things, or things were about to get really weird.

“Bucky,” you said raising your voice and crossing your arms.

“How bad can it be?”

Suddenly the only sound in the house was the sound of little footsteps sprinting towards you followed by Sam’s voice.

“Kobi—”

And right before your eyes, there was a little girl. A little girl that couldn’t have been older than 4 or 5 years old. She was incredibly pale and had blonde – No, white hair in two high pigtails. But the strangest thing about her was her inhumanly glowing blue eyes.

“Everything okay Buckaroo?” she asked seeming concerned about him.

“Shit,” Sam said under his breath as Bucky gave him a death stare.

“Kobik,” Bucky scolded lightly, crossing his arms.

“I told you not to come out until I said –”

“I know,” she said as her little face and shoulders fell.

“But someone seemed mad at you. Are you okay?”

She turned her gaze over to you and gave you a once-over as if she were scanning you to see if you were a stranger and potential threat to your own husband.

Sam finally joined you guys looking somewhat embarrassed.

“Sorry, I couldn’t stop her.”

Now you were staring at Sam giving him the “What the hell is going on?” look.

He didn’t seem like he wanted to be the one to answer.

Great, now you had two men who didn’t want to answer any questions about the strangest looking child that you had ever seen.

“Kobik,” Bucky said.

“This is my wife, Y/N.”

Her intense stare immediately softened, which eventually evolved into a big smile, and waved at you.

“Hi!”

You were awestruck, and couldn’t even answer. You just turned your stunned gaze away from her and back on to Bucky.

“Bucky…” you said under your breath.

“I’m gonna ask you again. Why am I here?”

…

Bucky took you outside next to a pile of large concrete rocks to sit on which you were grateful for because you were feeling pretty dizzy, and even felt a little sick.

Who was she? Did he have a kid that he decided to never tell you about? Did he feel the need to take her for some reason? Those were all logical thoughts that any rational human could think up for this type of situation. Right? And also, why did the poor thing look like…the way that she did?

But when you finally did get Bucky to talk, everything came out of his mouth exceeded anything that you could ever imagine. In fact, for a moment of time if felt as though you were watching Bucky say a bunch of nonsensical sentences pre-exploding brain aneurism.

But the longer he continued to speak, you realized that he was serious. This wasn’t some type of psychiatric meltdown or a sick joke.

You shook your head as he reached over to put a comforting hand on your upper arm.

“I know it sounds crazy, Y/N but—”

“Crazy? No,” you shuddered, pulling away.

“Crazy would be telling me that, I don’t know, you had some kind of accident child with someone during our marriage and you’re just bringing her over to tell me for the first time.”

He opened his mouth to say something but you shoved your index finger in his face to continue.

“Crazy would be telling me that you found a literal child with superpowers and you just decided to take her to see what she’ll do. But you’re meaning to tell me that it’s not even a human?”

“Y/N—”

“You’re meaning to tell me,” you said pointing to the door.

“That I’m supposed to believe that some extremely powerful force of ‘cosmic energy’ formed itself into a little girl, and you decided to make the impulsive decision of just taking it with you?”

“It’s not like that, Y/N,” he replied.

“I’ve known about her for a little over a year now.”

You couldn’t lie, that shocked you a little bit.

“A year?”

“Listen,” he said.

“A year and a half ago were investigating a situation in Norway. One thing led to another and we ended up in an underground science lab with two scientists observing some type of glowing anomaly in the shape of a cube that they were carefully monitoring and studying. Sam and I made it our responsibility to keep this hidden and make sure it stays hidden.”

“So what does this have to do with—”

He stopped you from finishing your sentence.

“Two months later they call us to fly over and it seems that overnight this glowing anomaly somehow formed itself into this little girl that calls herself Kobik.”

If you didn’t trust him as much as you did, you would be calling bullshit at this point. You didn’t even know that these kinds of things were humanly possible. Granted, you also didn’t think it humanly possible for a bunch of aliens to pretty much destroy New York, or for another batch of aliens to come down and somehow make half of the earth’s—No, the universe’s population disappear. So you continued to listen.

“A few days ago we get a notice that the lab’s been breached, and by the time we got there, the two scientists are dead. When we get there to check out the scene we find that the five grown men that broke in were also dead. And a minute later we found Kobik shaking all alone in a corner.”

Your heart broke for her for a split second. But then you let his words sink in before realizing...

“Wait,” you said

“You said the intruders were dead.”

He nodded.

“Who killed…”

He knew that you knew that answer.

“She had to defend herself,” he shrugged.

“And how did she do that, Bucky? She’s tiny.”

And that’s when you realized that there was even more to the story.

“Once she took form, they made it their focus to study the extent of her powers along with her behaviors. She talks, plays, and overall acts like a child of the age that she took form in…But in the wrong hands she could be used and abused into being a powerful weapon.”

“So why did you take it?” You asked.

“It obviously can defend itself.”

He didn’t seem thrilled about you talking about it like it was an inanimate object.

“We don’t know if it was a fluke or not. She may not know how to properly defend herself and won’t get so lucky the next time. Next thing you know she could end up in the wrong hands. And she was scared, Y/N. I…We couldn’t just leave her.”

You stressfully ran your fingers against your scalp through your hair.

“So what now?” you asked.

“She’s going to just stay here? In this abandoned half build house?”

“No.”

“…So is Sam going to keep her somewhere?”

The longer he stared at you the dizzier you started getting, understanding what he was actually asking.

“Y/N,” he said softly.

“I’m the only one she trusts.”

His last words fell into the background as you suddenly leaned over and threw up the entirety of your lunch…maybe even breakfast.

He held your hair back until you finally stopped.

“Bucky, you’re not saying,” you croaked while wiping your mouth.

“Tell me you’re not saying that you want to take her in.”

“Y/N, she’s scared. And I’m the only one she trusts to be around.”

You shot up and involuntarily started shaking your head.

No. This was not happening. He was not bringing a lethal science experiment into our house.

The world began to spin again as you probably got up too quickly, but you were good at playing it off. Why couldn’t he just be normal and bring an abandoned puppy home or something?

Regardless, there was no way that this could happen. There was no way that you could let this happen. You didn’t know who was going to invade your house to try to come to collect it. Much worse, you didn’t know how dangerous this thing was. What it could do to either of you when you least expected. What if it…she got startled in the middle of the night and activated some type of lasers in her eyes and cut you in half?

So you said what you needed to say.

“No.”

“Y/N,” he replied sympathetically.

“I know that this may be a lot so suddenly but—”

“No!” you said again putting your foot down.

“We can’t…Not right now. It’s not a good time”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Damn it.

“This isn’t some abandoned puppy that you found across the road, James! You brought home this radioactive weapon that people, might I add, bad people are looking for. And they’re not even the ones that I’m scared of!”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“After all that just came out of your mouth in the past 15 minutes, you really just had the nerve to tell me that I’m the one that’s not making any sense?” you exclaimed.

“What doesn’t make any sense is that your excuse is that this isn’t the right time. What do you mean by it’s not the right time, Y/N?”

“We…I have a lot of serious shit going on right now, okay?”

“I thought you were taking time off of work,” he pointed out.

“I am, okay? It’s just…”

You paused, you didn’t know what to say or even how to say it.

“Is there something that I need to know? What does timing have to do with anything?”

“I…well…” you stuttered.

“Spit it out, Y/N.”

You sighed in defeat. You didn’t have a choice now.

“Because damnit, Bucky!” you shouted, startling yourself by how loud you were. But there was no stopping now.

“I’m pregnant.”

175 notes · View notes

hobbitsnapes · 3 years

Text

the elf in the café chapter 9

The ending to A corpse husband story

(Photo credits goes to vallact)

Summary: Never in his life, did he think going to a cafe and meeting a Harry Potter nerd could change his life. (I’m shit at summaries

A/N: here it is everyone, the end. I’m so very thankful to each and everyone of you who red this story. It truly means a lot and I'm proud to call this work mine. Many more stories to come for our little faceless man.

H/N means his name, being that we don’t know what his actual name is currently

Time seemed to drag on his entire life, going by each day slowly, waiting, for either something great to happen, or the end. That was, until he met her, and subsequently fell in love with her. Never had he felt such happiness, love, and joy. Even with his fans, he hadn’t felt as amazing as when he was with her, the woman who changed his life. Time seemed to be a blur, a thing that he wished he had more of, to spend with her.

That’s what led him to now, a content and warm smile on his face, heart thumping wildly in his chest, as he pressed share.

If you had told 22 year old H/N that he’d do this, he would’ve looked at you like you were mad. Absolutely fucking bonkers.

But now a 27 year old H/N, was doing the very thing he was mortified of doing.

Not only was it a photo, but the photo. The one that he knew would no doubt cause a total meltdown on the internet.

There he was, a smile on his face as he held his new baby girl. Having just had her placed in his arms a few seconds prior to the photo. His pale tattooed arms wrapping around the small baby, a hand placed on her tiny head.

You could clearly see his face, only half of it showed to the camera. His head leaning down, a large, proud smile on his face as tears streamed from his eyes as he looks at his daughter.

Under the photo, layed a caption, one that he truly came up with on the spot. Pouring as much as his heart into it as he could.

‘I always was apprehensive about posting my face, always pushing it off and never felt it was the right time. I always said I would do it when I was not only happy with myself, but my life. Well, today is one of the best days of my life. I became a father to my beautiful daughter Evee. Her mother, is one of the strongest, most selfless, amazing women I’ve ever met. Seeing her bring our daughter into this world, with a smile on her face through it all, shows just how fucking truly amazing she is. I’ve never felt so proud in my life, than first being a husband and now a father. I love you all, and my girls.’

He had turned his phone off for a week, after posting, and sharing the link to Twitter with the caption ‘sorry for my inconsistent posting these last few months. Something incredibly small, but big came up, and changed my life. Oh and face reveal.’ He wanted to completely blank out everything from the outside world, and only focus on his girls. The two women who both changed his entire life, who made him the happiest man alive. Once a broken man, now full of love, and happiness because of them. He wanted nothing but to spend as much time as he could, basking in the joys of fatherhood, and loving the woman he so proudly calls his wife.

It’s as if his daughter knew to come exactly a week before the day, the day he cherished for the second year in a row. The day he married the love of his life.

To commemorate it, he turned his phone back on, letting all the notifications come pouring in, and again went to post.

While his last post was dedicated to not only revealing who he was, but his daughter, his wife was absent from the photo. As per her request, claiming to ‘looking horrible’ that day. He argued that she hadn’t looked as beautiful, since the day they said I do. But he kept to her wishes, keeping the photos and videos of the day between them.

But this post, was purely dedicated to the first love of his life. The woman, who had changed his entire life, who he had never shared to the world. Wanting to keep her existence to himself and the ones he kept close to him. The woman he swears is proof heaven exists and sent her to him, with wings on her back and a glow that shines greater than any light, or star.

The first photo, was what had been his background on everything, and framed and kept between them and his closest friends, and one of his favorite photos to have ever been taken.

It was their first kiss as husband and wife, a promise to love one another to eternity, to seal the pure love between them. The moment she became his wife, and her husband and lover.

The second, was one of the best videos he’s ever had. Nobody but them had seen it, not even his friends. Wanting to keep it between them, until now.

She had hid the phone out of sight, perfectly filming their couch where she sat him.

It was his birthday, a day he grew to love in the 4 years he’s spent with her. A day he once hated, now loved because of her. It reminded him that another year was spent by her side, a reminder that he was here for a reason, to meet and love her.

She handed him a box, just a plain wrapped box. It was rather small, not that he cared, having loved anything and everything she gave him, knowing it came from her heart.

He opened it, and with a gasp, a hand flew to his mouth as tears instantly came to his eyes. In a state of pure shock, and pure happiness and joy, he looked at the positive pregnancy test.

A laugh bubbles out of her as tears fell from her eyes at the look of pure joy written on her husbands face, before being pulled into his arms, tears streaming down both of their faces as they clutch one another, pure love and joy between them as they embrace one another.

The next photo, was one he had not only framed but a small copy in his wallet, but in his car, and filming room.

She hardly showed the entirety of the pregnancy, that was until she hit 8 months. Only a month to two until their little girl came into the world.

Both of her hands held the side of her now large belly, her shirt pulled up revealing her bump. Her head leaning down with a smile on her face, looking lovingly at his hand that was placed in the middle of her stomach. He remembers the feeling of their daughter kicking his hand softly, laughter bubbling out of him at his daughter's excitement at feeling her fathers touch. Even without being in the world yet, they had a connection from the moment she was created.

The next was again a video, one that made both laugh when they would watch.

She was filming it, laying on her back. She was heavily pregnant now, due in only a week from the day.

He laid on her legs, leaning down with both hands on the sides of her stomach. He moved his face down to her stomach, mumbling a ready to her which she said go to. He blew a raspberry into her stomach, a gasp that followed with laughter as their daughter jumped visibly inside her. You could clearly see the moment through her skin, making both laugh.

He did it a few more times,finally stopping due to feeling bad, kissing her stomach while whispering “I’m sorry baby, daddy won’t scare you anymore.”

The next photo, was exactly a year from the day. And one of his favorites.

It was their first wedding anniversary, a day they celebrated by going to the same park they first went to, under the very same cherry blossom tree.

They both dressed up, looking rather odd under the tree, with a small picnic and blanket. But neither cared, as they sat under the tree, embracing one another in the love they created, all those years ago.

It was a simple photo really. Just them kissing under the tree, smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths. Her left hand on his cheek, showing the stunning wedding and engagement ring he got for her. His left arm wrapping around her shoulders, revealing the black wedding band she got for him.

The next photo, was taken the present day, not a minute before he started piling these moments into a post. One that he loved dearly, a smile on his face as he looked at it.

It was truly a candid photo, one that wasn’t staged or planned, posed or anything. But truly magical to look at.

There she sat on the couch, hair a tangled mess and glasses perched on her nose. One hand writing notes down, with the other holding their daughter to her breast, a smile on her face as she fed her baby girl.

He had always been facilitated with watching her feed Evee, joking that it was just to stare at her enlarged breasts. But it was more than that, it was the sheer magic and aw that would take over him watching her body be able to do such a thing, how he truly thought she was magic, being able to feed their daughter with her body.

He put another one, one that they both smile at with warm hearts at the memory.

It was their very first photo, from only 4 years ago. It was from the fourth of July, layed on the blanket they brought to watch the fireworks. They both lay with smiles on their faces, looking at one another with an unspoken, but bubbling love that they look fondly back to.

He ended the series of pictures with one last video, one that he would cherish forever.

It was the night they came home from the hospital, a night that they will remember forever.

Both her and Evee lay on his naked chest, sound asleep on each side of his wide chest.

Her head rested on his right shoulder, a hand laying on her daughter's back.

Their daughter laid on his other side, her small face squished as it laid against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat lulling the baby to sleep.

He looked up to the phone, a tired smile on his face as he snapped it. Truly in the best place in the world. A place he thinks as his personal heaven.

He captioned the post as well, again choosing to come up with it on the spot, coming from his heart as a declaration of love to his little family.

‘It’s almost like my daughter knew to come into the world exactly a week before our 2 year anniversary. Like she knew that it would make perfect timing, to make my world whole. To fill my heart with even more love, that I didn’t know was possible, until I met my beautiful wife.

Y/N is more than just that though, she’s the strongest, most amazing, loving, beautiful, and truly badass woman I’ve ever met. She’s the most selfless, loving, and truly mind bending woman in the world, truly changing my life no more than 4 years ago today.

I met her at a cafe that’s a few blocks away from my old apartment, never imagining to meet someone there that day, who would turn my world upside down in the best way possible.

It didn’t take long to fall deeply in love with her, with how amazing she is, and the purest, most loving heart in the world.

She has a care like nobody else, a love to help others that stretches past the world, a love that she gave me, that chose me, to love her forever.

The first, was the moment I kissed my now wife, a kiss I’ll never forget

This video I’ve kept to myself and her this entire time, not wanting to show anyone, the moment she captured my reaction to finding out that, I was becoming a father. A moment that’s engraved into my mind and heart forever.

The next, is one of my favorites I’ve ever taken. She has always looked beautiful, every second of everyday. But she truly glowed, and was the most breathtaking when she was pregnant, a time I’ll miss, but love like it was yesterday.

The next video was just something she had watched on YouTube, an idea she told me we should try at 3 in the morning, after I came back in from a long night of streaming with my friends and you guys. It was truly not only the funniest fucking thing to watch, but do eye opening, the feeling of my daughter jumping inside her, is a feeling I swear I’m still able to feel.

The next, was exactly a year ago today. Our first anniversary as husband and wife. An entire year spent with being her husband. And her my wife. It was taken under the same tree she brought me to the day after we met, feeling a connection to her that I didn’t think was possible to feel.

The next, was taken just a few minutes ago. A true 180 from last year, but truly a beautiful moment, between a loving mother, who’s studying to become the greatest therapist there ever is, and her daughter. A moment I’m proud to be a part of and to help create.

The next, was the first photo we ever took together. It’s funny to look back on, to see the early signs of love in our eyes as we look at one another. Not knowing what’s to come.

And the last, was from the night we came home from the hospital. Evee was only 2 days old then, feeling like it was so long ago, but at the same time only yesterday. I hadn’t ever been so content, and happy, as holding my 2 girls in my arms.

Today’s less about me, and the shock of not only showing who I am, and being a father and married man. But rather a day to celebrate the wonderful woman I call my wife, and my beautiful daughter. Thank you everyone, for being by my side, and being here to watch my wolf change

-Corpse.

He smile as he logged into the stream, watching as views and the chat blows up as he hears all his friends voices.

All of them congratulate him, on not only the reveal of his face, but his newborn baby.

The entirety of the game is spent with everyone asking questions, showing great love and joy to him.

“So corpse, how’s it feel to have corpse daddy trending for a week now?” Asks Rae. Laughter bubbles out of him at this, his hand coming to his mouth. “It’s, honestly really funny. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Many asked how his daughter and wife were, and asking when they could meet them. He promised that one day they both would make an appearance in either a video or stream.

He played for only 2 hours, having to cut it short when the monitor goes off with the cries of his daughter. “Uh hey guys, I gotta get going, Evee needs her daddy. Alright, bye guys, thank you.”

He lays in the rocking chair he had built, rocking her back and forth as he fed her a bottle. He watched with tears in his eyes, a smile on his face at his little girl, wrapped in a pink fuzzy blanket. Her little hand held onto his pinky, squeezing the digit tightly as he held the small bottle.

He hummed quietly to her, a song she always fell fast asleep to.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you, please don’t take, my sunshine away.”

He ended the song with a soft kiss to her forehead, a smile on his face as he watched her sleep in his arms.

He looked up when he heard her, a smile on his face growing as his heart flutters in his chest.

She stood at the door, leaning against it. She only wore one of his shirts, the wine stain on it making him laugh. A tired, but happy smile graced her beautiful face as she looked at her little family.

She walked over to him, bending down and kissing his waiting lips. “I love you.” She whispers, hun repeating the words back before kissing her again.

They all lay in bed, having decided to bring their daughter to their room as they slept.

Both girls lay on his chest, as he looks down at both of them sound asleep. Never, has he felt so happy. And never, would he think that going to a small coffee shop, would lead to this. He knew the little Harry Potter fan he met all those years ago was different, truly loving the elf at the cafè he met all those years ago.

#corpse husband imagine #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband #corpse imagine #corpse fic #corpse #corpse x you #corpse x reader

102 notes · View notes

spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

Trees and Seas Have Flown Away, I Call it Loving You

Summary: Derek says something hurtful, but it happens to lead to just about the best thing that's ever happened to Spencer.

Tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, making up, bullying, angst with a happy ending, autistic spencer, coming out, getting together

Pairing: Morgan x Reid

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Spencer is having one hell of a morning. He’d slept late, a significantly rare occurrence for him, and the metro had been delayed and diverted, leaving him to walk a decent chunk of his journey into work. To top it all off, he’d left his pencil case at home, leaving him stuck with cheap office supplies on a paperwork day.

He hates days like these, when his mood is so seriously affected by events beyond his control, and he knows he’s just going to continue to fester in his own self-prescribed misery if he doesn’t take some drastic steps to change the way he’s feeling.

After a moment of staring into space as he considers his options, he decides on a few deep breaths to try and calm himself down. Surveying the mess on his desk after opening his eyes, he tackles that next, sorting through case files that can be filed away and organising the notes he’s currently working on as well as rearranging his personal items to stop them taking up so much room. Already feeling better, he takes a few sips of water and some painkillers for the headache he can feel coming on, and locks eyes on the break room. His mid-morning coffee is due.

Elle and Derek are chatting at the counter when he pushes the door open, and he smiles at both of them. He’s still getting used to being around Elle. She’s so confident and intimidating that he’s not really sure if she likes him that much, and it definitely doesn’t help that she reminds him of the girls he used to go to school with, the ones who found it amusing to laugh at the much younger autistic boy, hiding his stuff and calling him names, standing by and laughing when the older boys would beat him up.

He tries very hard with her, though. Maybe this would be a good opportunity to build more rapport, he thinks, so he listens in while he refills the coffee machine’s water. It’s definitely got nothing to do with how much he wants to climb Derek Morgan like a tree.

Derek looks over and catches him up in that thoughtful sort of way that always gets Spencer’s stomach fluttering. “Elle’s just telling me about the hot date she had on Saturday,” he winks, nudging her in the side. “He seems like a catch.” He sips innocently at his coffee and Spencer realises belatedly that he’s being sarcastic and watches for Elle’s response. God, he wishes conversations weren’t so damn convoluted.

“Oh, fuck off, Morgan,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You’re just jealous because I got laid and how long’s it been for you? Months?”

It’s Derek’s turn to roll his eyes, looking over at Spencer in a way that has him flushing pink. “Come on, Greenaway,” he laughs, “you know full well I’m not exactly lacking in that department.”

Elle gives him a dubious look, before raising her eyebrows and sipping her coffee. “Whatever you say,” she says in a patronising tone - the kind that reminds Spencer of an adult indulging a fantastical child. Derek laughs again, tapping lightly on the underside of her mug and causing it to spill over her hand a little. Spencer envies how easy it is for other people to elicit such a beautiful sound from Derek’s mouth; the few times he’s intentionally made Derek laugh he’d felt like he won a trophy, the sort he’d frame in a cabinet and show off to visitors, giving them a tour of the limited map of Spencer’s victories with a proud smile on his face.

He watches the exchange a little awkwardly, not knowing how to respond to these two very dominant personalities discussing an area he’s not overly familiar with. Unfortunately, they don’t ignore him forever and Elle looks over at him, her intense, fiery gaze already stirring up nerves in his stomach. “Anyway, what about you, Reid, when was your last hot date?” she teases, and he cannot for the life of him figure out if it’s friendly or malicious.

He flounders for only a second, cheeks heating up steadily, before Derek interjects. “Oh come on, Elle,” Derek scoffs. “Not sure Reid’s whole ‘twink aesthetic’ thing is quite what women are after, is it, pretty boy?”

Instantly, humiliation bleeds into his veins. His stomach swirls and he feels dizzy, completely out of his depth as his face reddens even further and he starts to sweat. The playful nudge that digs into his side doesn’t do anything to bring him out of the protective trance his mind’s gone into. “I--” he tries, but he’s cut off by Elle clearly growing bored of the conversation and pushing off the counter-top to leave.

She turns around for a moment as she heads towards the door, walks backwards a few steps as she delivers the final, devastating blow. “Hey, you never know, Reid,” she grins, “maybe the whole virgin genius thing will win them over instead.” She chuckles to herself as she leaves the room, door swinging closed behind her softly, leaving Derek and himself standing there in a vacuum.

Today of all days. It’s been a long time since the last time such a crushing level of humiliation was burning inside him, but he remembers the emotion like muscle memory. His body knows exactly what to do as his gut swirls and his head spins, sweat beading on his skin as though the very little self-esteem he had left is leaking steadily: the stopper that had been keeping the small amounts of confidence he had inside him degraded and dissolved by his coworker’s careless words, nothing there anymore to stop it leaking out of him.

It’s not new. But the sting is so much more visceral when it’s shocked into him by two people he considered friends and one person he was hopelessly, desperately in love with. It feels exactly like high school and university did: the toleration of his presence for intellectual reasons, for everything Spencer had to offer, but ultimately the social rejection of him as a human being when it actually came down to it. He was useful to the team for as much as he could give them. And that was it.

Derek takes a sip from his mug as Elle leaves, but he doesn’t notice Spencer’s completely frozen state until he tries to move on to another topic. “Spencer?” he asks, obviously concerned at his non-response and completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. “What’s wrong?”

He can’t find the words to respond, but he does manage to meet Derek’s eyes and he just stares at him for a few seconds before he shakes his head and looks away again. Derek’s clearly confused, but that only makes it worse. Is he overreacting? Or is Derek just truly that oblivious to the cruelty in his words, to his feelings?

Feeling the tears burning in his eyes and adamantly refusing to cry in the middle of the breakroom, he turns around and hurries to the bathroom without saying a word.

⭐️

He barricades himself into a stall and sits on the closed toilet seat as tears steadily spill down his cheeks. This is exactly the reason he hasn’t told a soul at the FBI -- how would a group of alpha personalities who were likely the most popular kids in high school, likely would have bullied him if they’d attended the same school, that he was gay?

The humiliation stings more coming from Derek. Such negative association with his sexuality had proved himself right: this was a secret he needed to keep quiet. It just hurt so badly that the man he loved seemed so dismissive, so rude about something so integral to his being, and the allusions the entire exchange had to previous traumas had him struggling for breath through the steady stream of tears.

It takes him a few minutes but he eventually manages to calm himself down. He splashes some cool water onto his heated skin and tries his hardest to breathe deeply, even though it feels almost impossible at first. Usually when he gets worked up and has a meltdown or a panic attack he’s able to talk himself out of it after he’s calmed down a little; able to rationalise and apply logic to the situation, which tends to illuminate either an overreaction or a clear path through the problem.

That coping mechanism is not applicable, though - Derek and Elle truly hurt his feelings and there’s no way around that. Instead, he just tries to push it to the edge of his mind. He thinks through the quantum physics problem he’d started at breakfast, and the logical progression through the formulas and rational reasoning he has to use brings his heart rate down and he feels at least a little calmer, even if the twisted knot of dread and grief and pain still sits heavy in his stomach.

He’s just solved the physics problem in his head when the door swings open and he can hear Derek’s signature tread on the bathroom floor. “Spencer?” he calls quietly, pausing as the door closes behind him for just a second before making his way to the end stall. “I know you’re in there.”

“I am in here,” Spencer confirms, resenting how weak and watery his voice sounds.

Derek sighs heavily. “I didn’t get it until I talked to JJ,” he admits, speaking through the door. “I was confused why you suddenly acted so strange so I asked her what she thought was up. I thought it was all friendly banter. To be honest, I didn’t even realise what I’d said until I was explaining it to her. But you gotta understand, pretty boy, I never meant to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, but the tears still escape anyway, spilling down his tears in an expression of silent grief as he listens to Derek. He takes a deep breath in through his nose and swipes the tears away from his cheek with his fingertips before unlocking the door, revealing the most apologetic expression he’s ever seen. It doesn’t make him feel much better. He still meant what he said.

He smiles weakly. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, and his voice sounds so vulnerable, it’s giving him away.

Derek’s expression doesn’t ease at Spencer’s forgiveness, he doesn’t smile and consider the issue done and dusted, he frowns harder, eyes desperate. “No, don’t dismiss it,” he says. “I hurt you, and that was wrong. I shouldn’t have said what I said, and Elle shouldn’t have either, okay, kid? I’m really sorry.”

“I know, but I’m used to it,” Spencer says, trying for a light tone and missing the mark by an embarrassing amount.

“Well you shouldn’t be,” Derek frowns. “If you’re so used to it, though, then why did this affect you so much? I’ve never seen you lose your cool like that.” He looks genuinely confused, and combined with the sorrow smothered across his features, it’s a pitiful sight.

“Don’t push, Morgan,” he warns, looking back down at his hands. His back hurts from his awkward, hunched position on the cold porcelain of the toilet.

“Seriously, Spencer, I--” Derek looks completely bewildered, caught off guard by the way he clearly expected this conversation going and the road it’s actually taken.

“I’m gay, alright?” Spencer interjects, loudly. He looks up fiercely into Derek’s eyes as he says it, but the fight quickly drains out of him and he looks down at his hands again, tensing automatically in fear of his reaction.

Derek doesn’t say anything though, so when Spencer eventually looks up again, he finds a strange expression on his face. Not mild disgust or confusion or awkwardness, but relief and fear and frustration.

“Spencer, I--” He cuts himself off as he shuffles his feet and looks away, but Spencer doesn’t miss the mournful tone as he realises the true impact of his words, how they must have hurt him. “You’re gay? That’s… why my comment was so hurtful, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to imply any kind of homophobia, I mean… I’m bisexual,” he admits, the same fear Spencer had felt swirling in his stomach written on Derek’s features.

“You are?” Spencer replies, surprise colouring his tone. He feels a surge of hope rise in his chest and he forces himself to tamper it. Just because Derek likes men absolutely does not mean he likes men like Spencer. In his experience those kinds of people tend to be fairly rare. He stands up from his uncomfortable seat, meeting Derek’s eyes properly for the first time since he entered the toilets.

What he means to do is give him a hug, or maybe have some sort of conversation on a more equal playing field. He does not mean to kiss him.

But when all of a sudden Derek’s lips are on his and Derek’s hands are cradling his cheek and waist so gently, surely it would be rude not to kiss him back. So he does. Far too passionately for a public bathroom in an FBI building, by all accounts.

They break away eventually, and Derek immediately panics. Spencer can see it rise in his eyes and body language, so before he can say anything he pulls him into the stall properly, shutting the door behind them and kisses him again, more gently this time. It’s the most confident thing he thinks he’s ever done, and he’s damn proud of himself because he does not want to go another day without Derek kissing him as tenderly as he is right now, without his hands roaming up and down his sides, without the careful brush of his fingers against the side of his head as he pushes a strand of hair back behind his ear as they pull away again.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that, pretty boy,” Derek whispers, and Spencer can feel the gentle brush of his breath against his lips.

He’s lost for words again, but in a completely different way from just minutes before, and he absolutely cannot believe this is happening. Today of all days.

“Me too,” Spencer confesses, smiling slightly as he allows himself to convey the vulnerability he’s feeling on his face instead of building up a wall in front of it as he usually would. It doesn’t take long for reality to set in though. “But we are in an FBI building and we could definitely lose our jobs for this.”

“Right,” Derek acknowledges, looking up as he puts a bit more space between them, as much as the tiny stall allows. “Later, though, we could maybe do this… not in a government building?”

Spencer’s always wondered how it feels to be on the receiving end of Derek’s romantic charm and charisma, and it’s rather overwhelming. Derek’s smiling cheekily as he interlocks their hands and waits for an answer and Spencer’s finding it a little hard to breathe again.

“Like… a date?” Spencer squeaks, face flushing again -- though admittedly in a much more pleasant manner -- as he prays he hasn’t got the wrong idea.

“Yes,” Derek smiles, “like a date.” He pauses and takes a breath, grinning wider for just a second before he suppresses it slightly and looks back at Spencer. “How about… I swing by your place at 7 and we head to that new Italian place you’ve been talking about?”

“Really?” Spencer asks, face open and vulnerable and honest. He hopes to God that he’s not being mocked right now. It’s happened before. He’s not sure Derek really understands the amount of trust he’s placing in him, the burden that might bring.

“Yes, really,” Derek chuckles, bringing a hand up to rest at the side of his face again as he thumbs gently over his cheekbone. “I’m gonna wine you and dine you, baby, just you wait and see.”

Spencer knows he won’t be able to speak without squeaking embarrassingly again, so he just nods emphatically and beams at Derek.

“I’ll see you at 7, then, pretty boy,” he winks, pressing a brief kiss to his lips. “I’ll be counting down the hours.”

⭐️

Taking care to exit the toilets separately, they return to their desks, filling out the paperwork left over from their most recent case. Spencer is certain that more than one coworker picks up on their shy, knowing looks, shared over the top of coffee mugs and cheap printer paper, but he can’t find it in himself to care. The very thing he’d craved for almost three years, since he first stepped foot in the bullpen and was introduced to Derek Morgan, was within his clutches and he was going to hold on to it no matter what it cost him.

Things feel different almost immediately: ‘pretty boy’ is infinitely more affectionate, the previously platonic touches are lingering and meaningful, Derek’s completely unnecessary paperwork consults seem more affirming and reassuring than ever. The idea that he could possibly spend the rest of his life with Derek Morgan’s hands on him, his passionate kiss on his lips, his compliments and nicknames warming him from the inside out, feels almost dizzying. He knows he’s smiling stupidly, he also knows that JJ and Elle are smiling knowingly, but he just doesn’t care.

He drives himself home and dresses in his smartest suit as soon as he gets back, even though Derek isn’t due for another 30 minutes. For reasons he refuses to acknowledge, he tidies his apartment while he waits and then takes a seat on his sofa, tapping his foot in anxious anticipation. By the time he hears a knock on his door, his heart’s in his mouth and his stomach is fluttering wildly, but that all fades to irrelevancy when he locks eyes with Derek.

“Dr Reid,” he says calmly, smile providing a soft kind of light to his face and Spencer wishes he never had to look away. He passes him a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and Spencer knows enough to recognise it’s a curated bunch, not a hasty supermarket buy but a thoughtful, purposeful trip to the florist.

“Wow,” Spencer says, and he absolutely tries to fight down the emotion rising in his throat but he isn’t quite successful. He takes the offered bouquet and examines them in closer detail, tracing an index-finger along the petal of a yellow daffodil. “New beginnings,” he whispers as tears spring to his eyes. He stares at it a little longer before looking up to meet Derek’s softened, deep brown eyes. He’s still in disbelief that someone would go to the lengths of researching the language of flowers for him, knowing it was something that he liked. “Thank you.”

“New beginnings,” Derek repeats, taking another step closer, “love me, desire, wisdom, and affection returned.” He lifts a hand to rest on Spencer’s cheek again and looks deep into his eyes for just a moment, conveying all he needs to with one look, and leans in to kiss him.

⭐️

Aaaaand this is the conclusion to my 12 Fic Challenge! Thank you to everyone who supported my fics through this journey, I can’t believe all the amazing things it’s led to and I’m so happy that this is the fic to end it. I’m so excited for what’s next in store, so stay tuned! <3

@strippersenseii @criminalmindsvibez

#my writing #criminal minds #criminal minds writing #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #moreid #moreid writing #moreid fic #moreid angst #moreid fluff #derek Morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid

126 notes · View notes

apiratewhopines · 3 years

Text

Thanks to @teamhook for the artwork. Liam is so dreamy.

In the Offing

Chapter 15 — Red-Handed

Summary: In which our heroine is dragged through the mud

Chapter 15 on AO3

“When everyone

You thought you knew

Deserts your fight

I’ll go with you”

-My Blood, Twenty One Pilots

“What kind of sorcery do you have coursing through that beautiful body of yours, Swan?”

Of all the things she thought he would say to her now that he had her cornered, those were the last words she expected. “Excuse me?”

“David has been in love with Mary Margaret for most of his life. Although I can’t claim the same closeness you have with her, I’m fairly certain she has returned those feelings for at least as long. They have circled each other for years, neither moving on nor moving closer. Yet you’ve been here a month and one word from you has them skipping out the door, probably straight to their wedding,” he explained, shaking his head in wonder.

“Oh, that,” Emma chuckled as she relaxed. She could talk about their mutual friends quite easily. Especially if it kept them from talking about their relationship. “I”m not sure what David’s problem was but Mary Margaret only needed a little encouragement to step out of her comfort zone.”

“David’s a gentleman, love. When a woman tells you no, you back off,” Killian replied, dropping onto the couch and looking at her as she settled onto one of the stools in the kitchen area. “It disturbs me that you aren’t familiar enough with the breed to know one when you see one.”

She couldn’t stop herself from asking, “What are you doing here, Killian?”

“Being a gentleman, to my own detriment,” he added playfully. Becoming more serious, he said, “I am here to ask you, respectfully, if you are ready to talk.”

“We are talking,” she retorted, shifting uncomfortably when he groaned in exasperation.

“You’re right. The real question is are you ready to listen, Swan? I’m not the most patient man when it comes to you. I’ve made mistakes and I realize that I owe you an explanation although I can offer no excuses. Will you allow me the opportunity to do that now?”

He was being so formal that she wasn’t sure how to respond at first. She felt herself unraveling a bit and knew she was on the verge of falling all over again. The fear gripped her as she thought of what would happen if she let him in again. “There’s nothing to listen to, Killian. Yes, you kept things from me but I did the same thing when I came to town. So no harm, no foul. You can keep your apologies and explanations and I’ll admit my outburst was a slight overreaction. My only excuse is that it has been an emotional few weeks.”

“It wasn’t an overreaction, love. I was in the wrong and I hurt you. You have no idea how much I regret it. But I appreciate you trying to move beyond it.” Looking at her suspiciously, he offered, “So we can go back—“

Interrupting him before he could finish, she said firmly, “So we can go our separate ways with no hard feelings. We can be friends.”

“Friends...I see.” His expression was rigid and the muscle in his jaw ticked a few times. “You’re not even going to give us a chance.”

“I did. It didn’t work out,” she reminded him. “I didn’t come here to start a relationship, Killian. I came here to prove you didn’t hurt anyone. I still want to do that but the rest of this is too complicated.”

Jumping up and starting to pace the floor of the living room, he ran his hand through his hair raggedly. “Complicated? What the bloody hell does that mean? What’s so complicated about wanting to be with someone?”

“I mean you want too much. You want things that I can’t give you,” she admitted, jumping up as well. She held her hands out in front of her in a placating way. The last thing she wanted to do was wound him. Surely, he could see that they were a disaster waiting to happen. They hadn’t even managed a week without a complete meltdown.

“Is that right? And why can’t you, Swan? I know it’s not because you’re incapable so that must mean you don’t want to,” he accused. He faced her with fire in his eyes and she realized she had mishandled the situation cruelly.

“Killian, please. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. I fully acknowledge that there is something between us, something wild and barely restrained. Things like that don’t last. They burn out and I don’t want to be left holding ashes. I can’t do this with you.”

He watched her twist herself in knots trying to find the words to convince him to walk away without causing him pain. She knew she wasn’t successful but his bearing had shifted and he no longer seemed as angry. He was looking at her with calculation in his eyes. His next words were slow in coming but clipped when he finally spoke. “I never figured you for a coward.”

She winced but didn’t disagree with him.

“If this is truly what you want, Swan, I will of course honor your wishes,” he told her. Unhurriedly, he closed the distance between them. When he was close enough that their toes were almost touching, he paused and waited for her to bring her eyes to meet his. “When you change your mind, because deep down we both know that you will, you know where to find me.”

He was almost through the door when he turned back and said in a husky voice, “And if there’s any kindness in you at all, take pity on a man and be quick about it.”

—

Emma found that the dread she had felt about having a conversation with Killian quickly morphed into a different kind of dread. The kind that sprung from the certainty that he was right. She was a coward and she would crawl back to him eventually. When he walked out the door with his tragic, disappointed stare and desperate final plea, she almost stopped him right then.

Remembering the gut-wrenching misery she had felt when she found out he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her the truth was the only thing that stopped her. If he could upend her life so thoroughly and still have her wanting to be near him, she needed to stay as far away as possible. Otherwise, when he left, it would be bad. Because he would leave. Everyone did.

Trying to distract herself, she unpacked her things and then took a long bath. If the water turned cold while she stared blankly at the walls and relived every word of her conversation with Killian, there was no one around to call her on it. Mary Margaret still wasn’t back and it was approaching nine o’clock. She could only hope that David didn’t stay the night. Not that she had anything against him or cared if they wanted to move their relationship to the next level. No, her concern stemmed entirely from the lack of walls and doors in the apartment. Being separated in the loft bedroom would do little to block out the sound of any midnight exertions. With a smirk, she debated relocating to Granny’s in the morning.

It was a couple of minutes later that she hear a knock at the door. Wondering if her impulsive roommate had waltzed out on her dream date without grabbing her keys, she hustled to the door without bothering with her robe. Surprised, she saw it wasn’t Mary Margaret who was waiting for her but the sheriff.

“Miss Swan.”

“Sheriff, what brings you here so late?”

With a slightly apologetic air, he held up a piece of paper. “I have a search warrant for the premises. I ask that you have a seat and allow me to look around without interference.”

Offering no resistance when he sidestepped his way into the apartment, she stared blankly at him. When her mind finally thawed from the shock of his announcement, she said, “Whoa! What do you mean? A search warrant for what?”

With a wary look, he sized her up. She knew she didn’t look threatening in her pink flannel shorts and matching pajama tank so she could not come up with the reason for his grim expression. “The weapon used in the shooting of August Booth.”

“I don’t understand,” she said simply, still trying to figure out when things had gone sideways. “Why would you think it would be here?”

“You mean in addition to you having a motive for wanting Booth incapacitated?”

“If by motive you’re referencing the fact he named me his POA and updated his will without my knowledge, then yes that is what I am asking. There’s no way that’s enough to get a warrant. What happened?”

“Miss Swan,” Graham started. “Emma. I don’t like this anymore than you do but I have a job to do. Someone called in an anonymous tip that the gun that was used is hidden in your bedroom.”

“My bedroom? You mean the room I spent one night in before going to Boston for the weekend. Come on, Graham, you can’t be serious.”

His looked at her with a stern expression and pointed to the couch. “If you please.”

She dropped without another word and watched as he climbed to the second floor. In barely any time, he walked back down carrying something in gloved hands. When he reached the living room, he sank in the chair and put it on the coffee table. It was a small lump wrapped in what looked like a set of dirty rags. He looked at her and shook his head. “I think we both know what that is going to be.”

“Graham I swear, I didn’t have anything to do with it,” she whispered, for the first time actually accepting this was happening. Someone took a shot at her when she came to town, she had the bad fortune of falling into a pit that had been undiscovered for decades, and now someone was trying to frame her for the attempted murder of her friend. A friend who had made matters worse by providing her a motive in the form of giving her control over his substantial finances.

“I know. But I have to arrest you, Emma. I found the weapon in your bedroom,” he told her. “Do you know your rights?”

A devastating sense of deja vu swept over her. She was eighteen and alone, taking the fall for something she didn’t do. Only now she had more to lose. Henry, her new friends, a place she was beginning to think of as home. Squaring her shoulders, she reminded herself that she was also more resourceful than she was a decade ago and she had a life worth fighting for now. With a shaky breath, she said, “Yes. Let’s get this over with. The sooner you eliminate me as a suspect, the sooner we can find out who is really responsible.”

“I promise that’s all I want to do, Emma.”

In the end, Emma only had to spend about eight hours in the jail cell. Graham stayed with her the entire night, gently questioning her about her whereabouts at the time of the crime. Throughout his interrogation, he had revealed as much as he could about the circumstances of her arrest. The gun was registered to Liam and had been in the bag that they had held when she came to pick up their things after the accident.

Once he had traced the gun’s owner, he went to the records room and found the documentation showing she had signed out their belongings. Small favor that it corroborated her version of events that the last time she had seen the bag it was in the trunk of their rental car.

The call had come in shortly after she had arrived back in town and simply indicated that if they checked the upstairs bedroom, they would find the weapon. He had followed procedure exactly and the warrant had been issued within a couple of hours.

It was no wonder she didn’t have a hard time convincing Graham that she wasn’t involved. This reeked of a bad frame job and he knew it. She listened while he called the lab and requested a rush job on processing the gun for fingerprints and analyzing the rags that had been used to wrap the weapon. He left a few minutes later, promising to return with breakfast.

Sitting on the cot in her cell, she racked her mind trying to figure out who would do this to August. And her. Was she the collateral damage or was he the one who got caught in the crossfire? Sure, she had pissed people off in her line of work but no one who would have gone to this level of intricate plotting to get revenge. The only thing that made sense was that she was a convenient scapegoat to take the blame for the attack on the real target.

True to his word, Graham came back with donuts and coffee. Plus he had a visitor in tow. Before Emma could say anything, Mary Margaret rushed over to the bars and reached through to grab her hand while the sheriff hung back to answer the phone. “I’m so sorry you had to stay here overnight. I thought you had gone home with Killian. I never would have left you here. Thank goodness Graham stopped by to let me know.”

Shrugging helplessly, she gave her visitor a weak smile because honestly how could she blame the woman for thinking she had hooked back up with Killian when that was exactly what she wanted to do. In hindsight, it would have been a much better way to spend the night on a variety of levels. “It’s okay. Graham has been very professional.”

The man in question made his way over to them and passed her a coffee and two bear claws through the bars. “I heard these are your favorite.”

“Thanks.” She was humbled by his kindness, especially considering she had been fairly standoffish in all her interactions with him up to this point. Now that she was at his mercy, it would have been easy for him to return the favor but he didn’t. He seemed to feel personally responsible for this failure of justice and upset at being used to carry out some twisted form of torture.

“Mary Margaret, I have a few forms for you to sign and then she’ll be free to go.” With an encouraging smile at her, Mary Margaret squeezed her hand and then followed him to his office. They spent the next several minutes going through the bail paperwork, outlining next steps and consequences if she failed to show up for her court date. When she heard that her bail had been set at ten thousand dollars, her eyebrows rose and she protested, “Mary Margaret, I can get the bail money from my boss.”

Shaking her head, the other woman smiled again and said, “I have money in my rainy day fund, Emma. I think this qualifies.”

Feeling undeserving of her unwavering support, Emma crammed half a bear claw in her mouth before the lump in her throat could force tears to her eyes.

—

Emma and Mary Margaret walked out of the Sheriff’s department a few minutes later arm in arm. As usual, it felt like the entire town was watching her as she moved down Main Street toward the apartment. Although this time, their gazes seemed to hold less curiosity and more judgement. Emma knew that word traveled fast among the residents but this was ridiculous. How in the world did everyone from the garage mechanic to the flower shop delivery boy already know about her fall from grace?

Arriving home, she followed Mary Margaret in, swooping down to pick up the newspaper on her way across the threshold before collapsing on the couch. With a groan she said, “Please don’t let anyone in today. I don’t want to talk to anybody in this town other than you.”

“Emma, no one who knows you would think you had anything to do with August’s shooting. Not to mention, you’re much too smart to hide the weapon in your own room. I’m not sure who wants you out of the way but they’re no match for us. We’ll figure this out.”

While a part of her wanted to shake the naive optimism out of her friend, the larger part was grateful that someone was standing by her. Seriously needing a distraction, she turned her attention to the folded paper that she had tossed on the end table. Pulling it open, her eyes widened and she sat straight up, “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“What? What is it?” Mary Margaret made her way over with two cups of hot chocolate. When Emma didn’t say anything, she sat down next to her and peered at the front page. “Oh no.”

There in black and white was a large picture of her being taken out of the back of the sheriff’s car. While Graham hadn’t bothered to handcuff her, there was little doubt from the picture that they weren’t out for an evening stroll. The headline screamed, ‘Former Convict Suspected in Recent Shooting of Famous Author.’

The article went on to do a thorough job of retelling every stupid mistake and unfortunate decision she had made in her life. Glossing over her years in the foster system with a throwaway line about a rootless life and tendency to run away from homes that only tried to help her, the story went on to outline her unsavory history that culminated in an arrest for the theft of several thousand dollars worth of designer watches. Far from keeping a neutral tone, the writer included a high-handed recounting of the dangers of teen pregnancy and questioned the likelihood of people truly being able to be rehabilitated.

The end read like an indictment by a jury. Summing up her motive and opportunity in August’s attack, it seemed in the eyes of this community at least, she was already guilty.

“Well, I guess that’s that,” Emma sighed. Continuing to stare at the print with eyes that could no longer focus on the words, she asked quietly, “Do you want me to leave?”

“Absolutely not,” Mary Margaret declared. “Emma, don’t you dare give up. Your past doesn’t define your life now. Look at how much good you’ve done since you got here, at the lives you’ve touched. They are just trying to sell papers. But I assure you that I am cancelling my subscription immediately. Of all the reckless, irresponsible reporting...”

She wasn’t sure what she had done to earn Mary Margaret’s trust but she thanked her lucky stars that she had it. The other woman’s ranting about cancellations and honor and innocent until proven guilty bolstered her. Sure, she still wanted to curl up in a ball and mourn the loss of her privacy and the tenuous good-will she had fostered in the town but there would be time for that later. “You’re right. Someone at the paper obviously likes to sensationalize but they aren’t lying. I had a rough road to get where I am now but I won’t let this scare me away. I didn’t do anything to August and I’m going to prove it.”

“That’s the spirit,” her companion said. “How can I help?”

“You’ve already done enough,” Emma responded truthfully. “You’re giving me a place to stay and you bailed me out with what was probably your 401k or something. I need a day or two to regroup but I’ll come up with something. I always do.”

Exhausted, Emma forced down the hot chocolate and then went up to the bedroom for the sole purpose of trying to catch a few hours of sleep. Having been awake for over a day at that point, she knew she wasn’t firing on all cylinders. She laid there for hours, the words of the article mixing with the night she had shared her past with Killian and leaving her mind raw.

Why hadn’t he come? Or at least called? There was no way he hadn’t heard of her arrest by now. She knew she told him it was over and it wasn’t fair to expect him to come riding to her rescue. Or to her side at least, she could rescue herself after all. On some level she had expected him to be there despite everything. She thought he had meant it when he said he would fight at her side, even if she had practically thrown his feelings back in his face and told him they were unwanted.

That she wanted him there was beyond doubt. What a mess she had made of things.

Knowing that sleep was impossible with the chaotic stream of thoughts she was fighting through, she listened with vague interest to the occasional sound of visitors at the door. She could make out Elsa’s voice at one point and Ruby’s a little while later. There were other voices as well. It seemed that the news of August’s shooting had filtered to the world outside Storybrooke and now reporters from nearby cities were making their way to town and trying to get exclusive interviews with the man’s friend who had dramatically turned into suspect.

Mary Margaret was doing her job as gatekeeper and no one made it in but the noise was not conducive to rest. With no other recourse, Emma pulled her laptop out of her bag and decided that action would be her savior. Action would chase the feeling of abandonment away, it would keep her thoughts focused on the tasks at hand.

First on her list was transferring money from her savings to her checking so she could reimburse Mary Margaret. Never let it be said that Emma didn’t pay her debts. Her friend had been there for her in a way no one ever had, not even her own family. You didn’t leave someone like that hanging. With a sizable dent in her account, she pulled out her checkbook and wrote a check then and there.

Next she turned her attention to her emails. Apparently there were several business deals and decisions that had been pending since August was hospitalized and she did her best to make her way through what basically amounted to bill payments and book tour contracts. The final two emails from August’s attorney were a bit more unusual as they involved property acquisitions in Storybrooke.

With a kindling of curiosity, she opened the first one. It appeared to be the mortgage paperwork for the purchase of the former mayor’s home. Thinking of the stately white mansion she had scoped out her first week in town, she was baffled as to why August would be buying the property. Did he plan on staying in town after the publication of his book?

The second was even more surprising. It was a forwarded message from an auction house in Portland detailing the upcoming auction for land in Storybrooke that was currently owned by the church. The brief synopsis of the property included that it had been apart of the Blanchard family estate for decades but had been bequeathed to the church after the legal declaration of death was issued. Having no practical use for the land, the church had decided it was to be sold to the highest bidder in late July.

The pictures included in the announcement showed a variety of landscapes. Heavily wooded forest photos mixed with oceanfront views and the gently sloping overgrown lawn that led to a large and woefully neglected home.

Sitting back in bed, Emma stared at the ceiling. Why would the Blanchards have left the property to the church instead of their child? Did August intend to buy this property as well or was this more research for his fairy tales?

As seemed to always be the case in this cursed town, the more that she unearthed, the more that was hidden. One thing was for certain though. August was on to something and she intended to find out what.

8 notes · View notes

orbitariums · 4 years

Text

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟔)

note: it’s been a while y’all!!! i hope you’re still here & i hope you’ve been taking the time to educate yourself on everything that’s going on around the world!

this chapter probably took me the longest to write out of any chapter bc i was trying to get all the details just right. i felt like maybe something was missing, and i edited it all this week to get it how i wanted. now i feel more secure!!

i hope y’all enjoy it, i’m so excited to see and show y’all what’s up next for moonrose/yn and steve. leave your thoughts !! let’s gooo

playlist

word count: 8.1k

warnings: none really? other than mentions of sex work and the age gap btwn steve and moonrose. but no smut this time! this starts off where chapter five ended.

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐱: 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

The sight in front of you when that camera turned on made you sit right up, your eyes nearly popping out of your head. There was no fucking way. It was some sort of sick joke. Because the man behind the camera simply could not be who you thought it was.

“What. The. Fuck.”

| | |

"What the fuck?" you continued, less statically now that the initial shock was gone.

But there was no way in hell that the man you were talking to, had been talking to for over a month, was Captain America? He didn't have to be in his full attire, the face of Steve Rogers was noticeable anywhere.

And then it hit you, a flood of realizations. Of course he had used a fake name at first. It should've been obvious when he changed his name from Grant Roberts to Steve - short for Steve Rogers. It should've been obvious when he told you that he was a "scientist", such a vague term to use for the many branches of science that existed.

It should've been obvious why he wouldn't turn his camera on. And yet, it shouldn't have, because this wasn't something that you could even begin to suspect. Customers had their reasons for turning off their cameras - one of those reasons was not usually because they were secretly an Avenger.

But still, it didn't feel quite real. The logical, pragmatic side of you calmly figured that this was all just somebody's idea of a sick joke, that maybe this person behind the screen had set you up all along just for this big reveal, as some sort of way to deceive you. In fact, the logical side of you wanted to write this all off as a pathetic joke.

It didn't make sense. And you desperately needed it to. You needed answers, now. If this were some kind of highly calculated joke for whatever reason, you couldn't even find one, you wanted to know. And if it were a joke, you wanted to know why you. You wanted to know how much farther this person was willing to go.

And if it weren't a joke, if you really were talking to Steve Rogers... you wanted to deny it, but something in you urged that this was real, as unlikely as it seemed. The feeling that he was who you had truly been talking to felt as true as the connection you had created with Steve.

Still, that didn't mean you weren't shook the fuck up.

"What the fuck!" You repeated, standing up and bringing your laptop with you as you migrated into your office, turning on the lights and then sitting back down at your office table. This felt like official business. You wanted to really be able to take it in.

And Steve? Well, he was just waiting for you to finish reacting, all the while his eyes slowly watching you on the screen, his chest filling up with worry. He shouldn't have, he really shouldn't have, even if it were in the name of bettering himself and fixing things with you. But he knew he couldn't panic again, couldn't retract out of fear. He would face this, even if it meant having to endure a reaction from you.

The worst that could happen was you could expose him and it would lead to some unnecessarily huge scandal. Even worse, it could turn out that you were not to be trusted, and that somehow this would take a turn for the dangerous. But he had known that all along. He had thought about it long and hard before he made the decision to show himself, and he still did. So there was no turning back now.

"Are you kidding me?" you barked, not out of anger but out of pure confusion - you felt like you had to assume this sort of accusatory position to defend yourself, whether or not he was real. And if he was, you had some choice words to say.

"Moonrose..." Steve said, the first time he was speaking ever since he turned on the camera.

You focused in on the way his lips moved and his careful expression, the way he spoke slowly and calmly, like he was approaching a scared animal who was ready to attack. All of his words would be calculated, you could tell in the way his eyebrows came together, the way he watched your reaction as if he were concerned for your own well being. And to admit it, he was to some extent. He understood your freak out, but he was trying to be calm to avoid a meltdown that would ruin the both of them, depending on what you decided to do in the midst of said meltdown.

"Okay. You're talking," you noted, blinking. Maybe if he hadn't spoken you could slam your laptop shut and brush this off as some sort of glitch in the matrix. You still had questions. You were a smart woman. You weren't about to be played. "How do I know you aren't a deepfake?"

Steve furrowed his brows. All his years in this business and some of this new technology was still hard for him to keep up with,

"What?"

You ignored his confusion and continued on. Your request was more like a command, Steve felt like he was back in the army again.

"Blink," you commanded.

You wanted to see if you could spot any inconsistencies in him, just to cross out the idea that the person in front of you could be generated by an algorithm. Was it desperate? Maybe, but not unnecessary. If you were talking to Steve Rogers you bet your ass you would make sure he was real.

Steve wanted to ask why, but he figured he was best not going against your wishes in any way. So he blinked, and to your wondrous disdain, it seemed legitimate. You felt some sort of marvelous sinking feeling in your chest. Like this - your career, your customer interactions, your life - was realer than you had signed up for. Everywhere you turned these days, something was surprising you. But what made this sinking feeling so brilliant was the fact that you were seeing Steve. And you weren't just seeing anyone, you were seeing Steve Rogers. That was a big deal.

A quick bark of laughter escaped from your lips - first because of the fact that you thought you could prove whether or not what you were seeing on the screen was real, when all signs pointed to yes, and second because you were in genuine shock, processing what had happened to you. But you were laughing because it was almost funny. Lately your life had thrown you so many curveballs. It was almost unbelievably hilarious that of all the people in the world, Steve would be this Steve in particular. The universe would broaden those slim chances just for you.

And for what? You wondered. Maybe it was a test to see if you would break down again. But really, you had no reason to. You weren't necessarily upset over this revelation, in fact it made the discrepancies of your relationship with Steve make a whole lot more sense. It made the blow less heavy. So you weren't upset. You weren't on the verge of tears or a brand new breakdown that would take you weeks to recover from - you were just sitting motionless in a soup of disbelief.

It was kind of cool, though. This whole time you were talking to Steve Rogers, the Captain America. It was also worrisome, because you thought there might have been some reason in particular that he chose you, although you couldn't figure out why for the life of you. The most illegal thing you'd done in the past few years was neglect a couple of parking tickets and have a few underage drinks.

"How do I know I'm really talking to Captain America?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at him through the screen.

Steve sighed as if resigning and reached over beside him, where from behind his bed frame he pulled out the shield, showing it on camera like it was nothing. You squinted and folded your arms, observing it up close.

"That could be anything," you raised a brow, and Steve sighed again, this time closing his eyes.

"It's me. Really. I don't know how else I could prove it to you."

When you heard his voice again, the pure intention in his voice, hoping that you'd believe him, it all seemed to click. And any shred of denial you had left was gone, defeated by acceptance.

"Jesus," you breathed out, looking at him in silence for a second and then shaking your head, confused. "You know so many girls on here would kill to talk to you? I mean, seriously. I have a friend who dresses up in Avengers cosplay every night and uses a dildo the same colors as your shield. So why me? You know there's nothing illegal about what I'm doing, right? I can't get in trouble for this."

You realized you were sort of rambling and not making any sense, but this was one of those times where you let yourself. What was the appropriate response to this? The answer - there was none. Also, you wanted to make sure you were in the clear. Though you doubted Captain America would be prowling against sex workers, you had to make your innocence obvious in general. It was like you hadn't considered that maybe Steve, like anyone else, had needs, and that you were just helping him fulfill those needs... until it spiraled into, well, this.

"Listen," Steve started.

Even he hardly knew what to say. For all the time he had spent thinking about this decision, he was starting to feel that he wasn't really thinking at all. He didn't know how he would de-escalate the situation, and he didn't know what exactly he would say. He just figured it would provide a sense of relief for him and hopefully for you too, as well as resolve any discrepancies in why he stopped talking to you.

But now he felt like maybe this was just his selfish excuse for the fact that he wanted more, and that he was willing to show his face because of that fact. Did he feel better? Slightly. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of his chest now that you were talking again, now that he was seeing you again. The feeling was so odd, a kind of weird lightheartedness that didn't feel like it belonged.

He finally chose his words.

"I'm sorry. For everything. I... I don't even know what to say right now."

"You're telling me," you responded with raised eyebrows.

The situation may have been weird and more than either of you could deal with, but it was nice talking to him. The face was nothing like you had been expecting at all. But it was still Steve... right?

"Really, though. I want to apologize. And I don't have to show my face to do that, but I feel like I need to. I'm sorry for how things ended last time. I was afraid of the things that could happen if I let myself open up to you. I was trying to be extremely careful, and I let that take over me. It wasn't fair to you to detach myself the way I did," Steve explained slowly, and you listened, taking in each and every word.

It wasn't hard to understand. It made sense why he wouldn't want to open up to someone on the internet, being who he was. Still, you wished he hadn't been so sudden about it. You'd wished you could've at least understood him a little, so it didn't end out like that.

He continued,

"And I'm sorry for enabling any of this at all, even though I don't regret it any more. It's not that I don't think you'd be able to handle that kind of communication or that I found you immature. It's that I think I wouldn't be able to handle that kind of communication. And... and I was beating myself up for letting things go so far the way they did instead of just realizing... just realizing that..."

He swallowed down his words a bit, but you were curious, leaning your head in as if to prompt him. All his words were reassuring, a genuine apology. Like he was making up for his own failure, explaining his own faults. It made you feel a whole lot less naive and it cleared up so much for you, after things were left so blurry. And you were surprised he was even giving you an explanation. Why did he come back, if he were so busy and had weaned himself of you already? Why was someone of his importance being so caring when he didn't have to be at all?

You wanted to know.

"Realizing what?" you asked.

"That what we had wasn't something I could just brush off because I was scared. That just because a strong connection like that intimidates me doesn't mean trying to pretend it doesn't exist will help. It's not like me, honest. I value loyalty above all else. I consider you a friend, and I wasn't loyal to you. And I'm sorry."

The thoughts in your brain were running a mile a minute. If anything, you weren't expecting this to begin with. But an apology? You weren't expecting that at all, from the Steve you once knew, or from Captain America. And now that you could see who he was, this connection you had felt like something you were more willing to lean into. You were more willing to be honest about the fact that you liked each other, and not just for the purpose of your work.

You had so many customers who considered you a friend, but not in this way. Not in the genuine way, where even though you serviced him, you weren't being nice because of that. If he had been just some rando, you might have been able to brush his words off easier. And you wouldn't even be entertaining the idea of a conversation that was this exclusive, this revealing. Had he been anyone else, this wouldn't be happening. But you'd seen who he was, on the news and in the public world, and through a screen. It just made it easier to want to trust him and his intentions.

And right now, it sounded like Steve was genuinely sorry, and that he felt like he had let down a friend. And you were both surprised and ecstatic that he saw you in that way. It wasn't every day a public figure like Steve Rogers wanted to talk to you. It felt like speaking with an old friend, so mundane and nonchalant, yet so out of the norm.

Yet, even though you were happy to be talking with him, you couldn't help but criticize his methods. You thought of how he had thrown you completely off guard while you were in this carefree disposition, but you didn't forget that it was your reaction that mattered.

Your reaction would set the feel for the entire week. You were proud of yourself for not allowing the kind of reaction that would send you back to the place you had spent time getting out of. You were glad that this revelation didn't ruin the good mood that had been curated over the past few hours during the night out. He had just come out of the blue, and was giving some hearty apology that you weren't even prepared for in the slightest. Uttering your next words, you shook your head slowly as you expressed your feelings of disappointment in him.

"I'm glad you've come to your senses. And, I can understand where you're coming from. But I can't help but think that this isn't like you, or it shouldn't be. I mean, you're kind of a big deal. You should know how to handle your feelings instead of just leaving me out of the blue and then coming back to reveal that you're... well, you! It's really a lot to take in, I would hope you're not missing that."

Steve nodded, glad that you were expressing yourself. It didn't upset him that you were calling him out- if anything, he deserved it, and he liked someone that could point out his own wrongdoings, although that wasn't because he wasn't responsible for himself. He liked a woman who could call him out, but he didn't need a woman who could stay on top of him, because he was adult enough to do it himself. There was a difference, and distinct levels of maturity that came with that difference.

He had been so engulfed in his own shortcomings and anxieties and that wasn't fair to you, nor was coming back and doing this big reveal, being as prolific a person as he was. To be fair though, he hadn't really been thinking logically in the moments before he showed you who he was. But you had made all correct points - he was supposed to be the smart adult in the situation and communicate efficiently - you understood why that hadn't happened, but you just wanted to bring it to the table. You were vocal about your feelings. You didn't just make excuses for people.

"Yeah. I know. It's silly of me, I was thinking of myself and stressing over the details. So, I'm sorry, I know that wasn't very heroic of me. I feel a little selfish, because I don't want knowing who I am to put any added stress on you," Steve became slightly sheepish, apologizing for the fact that he was who he was, and that he was intentionally revealing himself to you despite his high importance.

You had settled into the reality of the situation, and ever since you took the time for yourself to heal, this sort of rolled off your back. Another conflict down, just like that. You were ready to take on more surprises, more shock. Maybe a month ago something like this would've blown you out of the water and put you on edge, especially if it were in tandem with the stressful things you were already going through.

But now, you were mellowed out. And you were thankful for the fact that you had been on a night out before this, the drinks in your system and the fun you had had definitely took the edge off, made you feel more in the moment without the anxieties of the present.

So you almost laughed it off, genuinely chuckling.

"You don't sound cocky at all," you joked sarcastically, and Steve made a playful face.

"What's that mean?"

You did your best impression of him, putting on airs and sitting up high and mighty, imitating his voice,

"I'm sorry that I'm Steve Rogers, defender of justice. Here's my shield, no big deal. Next caller."

Steve chuckled, lowering his head,

"Oh, is that how I sound?"

You shook your head slowly and playfully,

"Without a doubt. And by the way, the fact that you sleep next to your shield? Classic."

"Not next to it, it's just beside the bed frame," Steve defended himself, playing along with the joke.

"Same thing," you teased, with a dismissive wave of your hand.

A beat went by, silence. The two of you sitting in the acknowledgment of what you had, staring at the other on the screen. Sated, but not elated by what had just happened. As for Steve, he felt much more relaxed. Like he was in a better place, now that he had explained himself to the only person who it made a difference for. Now that he had finally broken past that wall of fear. And he wasn't thinking about the future, wasn't worrying his head off about the possible consequences of what he was doing, though there were so many that his brain could think up. Instead he was just sitting in his good feeling, floating in it.

He was being honest with himself, with no fear of what that meant. So many times he pushed back opportunities like this because of his own fear, or because he convinced himself he was too busy to pursue something like this. And though it wasn't like you two were dating or in an official relationship, there was something between you. It was clear that you liked each other, more than just in the way a customer would. And instead of running from that spark, Steve was letting it shine. Whether it turned out to be something more ot not wasn't what you two were worried about. It was just sitting in the moment. Although, the silence, the attraction in your gazes made you wonder where to go from here.

Would Steve be continuing to attend your shows, and carry on like normal? Would he want to talk more, now that he had gotten rid of this fear he was telling you about? Your mind wasn't going too far on that front - you weren't thinking of technical things, like what this would mean when it came to your relationship with Steve, that seemed like it was outlandish to be talking about. You weren't pursuing anything with him and he didn't seem to be pursuing anything with him. But you wanted to know what the hell would happen after this?

"So... what now?" you asked calmly - because you weren't worried about what was next, you just wondered.

Steve took in a deep breath, slowly shrugging his shoulders up and down. He raised his brows,

"I dunno. What's important to me is what's important to you. What are you hoping for?"

"I'm not hoping for anything," you replied, and to hear yourself say those words was such a relief. You were done wanting anything from men, or anyone, or hoping that they would follow through with your desires. Your hopes for how other people would act always spiraled into desperate measures, and that wasn't you any more. You continued, "Also, you're the one who wanted to clear things up. I think what's next is your decision."

"You're right," Steve nodded. That was fair enough. He didn't want to put any of this on you. To him, it was a matter of how this relationship would progress. He wanted to know you on a base level, not just through this. He wanted to know you the same way he knew a normal friend. He saw you as that, why not make things that way? But for now, it was best to just take things slow. Not out of fear, but for the sake of reality. "I guess I just want to get to know you on a real level. Not as a customer, but as a friend."

Steve's words struck a realization in you. Not only were you talking to Steve, but you had also performed for him. He knew your o-face. And that wasn't something that embarrassed you, because it was your job, and you were very comfortable with your sexuality because of your job. But knowing now that you were performing for Captain America? It felt like the stakes were just a bit higher, and you always put on a good show.

And it was just a tad bit flustering to know that the man you gave your all to sexually, the man whose groans and moans turned you on to no end, the man who needed you to please him, was Steve Rogers. Unbelievable, yet the proof was in front of you. You'd be lying if it didn't make you feel powerful to know that you had been the reason that a whole Avenger was pleasuring himself almost every night.

"Huh. So do I still show you my ass?" you asked, masking your flustered state with humor.

A laugh tumbled out of Steve's lips, and you could see him turning a shade of pink, see his face change as he got what he could only describe as flashbacks. You smirked at the impact you seemed to have on him. He cleared his throat so his voice wouldn't break as he continued, smiling shyly at the camera,

"Uh," he started, realizing he hadn't quite formulated a response. He chuckled nervously. "If-if you want to."

You nearly snorted, feeling especially devious now,

"Wow, Steve, I'm shocked. After all this time, I still make you nervous?"

You kind of felt like the shit. Who else could say they successfully got Steve Rogers off, without even touching him? You were the only one who could make him feel this way, and he didn't have to say it out loud, he already knew it. There was a reason he chose you specifically. The minute he saw you, he was drawn to you. That hadn't changed.

He chuckled at your question,

"I'm not such a tough guy when it comes to these things."

"Oh, but that can change. Trust me, I've seen it," you commented, and you both knew what you were talking about - the time when you had taught Steve how to be more dominant with you. That was probably one of your more intense sessions with him.

"Really though, I do want to get to know you better. You're a friend to me. I want it to feel like a friendship. If you're comfortable with that."

"I think so," you responded. Again, it was only because it was him that you were agreeing to this. But you didn't quite know how to make that happen, because it never had before. "I guess it's just a question of how to be friends outside of this."

Steve shrugged,

"We could talk outside of this. If you're okay with doing that."

You raised a brow, sort of surprised at that suggestion,

"Are you? I mean, what are you thinking?"

Steve felt secure enough that he wanted to be able to talk to you outside of this site, as long as he wasn't being reckless with his communication. He didn't want there to be some way for important information to leak if he started talking to you on his phone, or give up too much personal information of his own. But he knew he wanted to talk to you outside of just this site, and hear your voice, too.

"There's gotta be some way we can talk more frequently. I'm not really a texting guy, but I have... several phones. Some are for business and some are for-"

"Talking to cam girls online," you filled in the blank.

"Sure. Except you're my friend. Who happens to be a sex worker."

You laughed, grinning at him, a warm feeling blossoming in your chest at the fragile correction,

"Got it. I mean, I have a phone number. I'm sure one of your techie friends can find a way for us to text without revealing too much personal information, if that's what you're thinking about. But hey, you know I'm not gonna like... I don't know, try to rob the Avengers."

Steve nodded understandingly.

"No, I understand that. It's just, I don't know, a precaution thing. A job thing. It's less personal and more just, professional."

"Hm. Do you usually hide your number from friends?" you asked inquisitively, raising an eyebrow.

"Sometimes," Steve said shortly, then sighing as he began to think of the circumstances. This friendship was different from one he ever had. It was so based on trust and making slow progress, within the boundaries you both had to set. "You make a good point. I'll think about it," Steve decided.

"Here, we can compromise. I have two snapchats. One is a private snapchat, a special treat for loyal customers, and the other is my regular snapchat. The private is for nudes, the regular one is for... my life. You can see my boobs and my hiking trips. And, we can text on my regular snapchat, like friends would. But, just to be clear, you're... still a customer, right? You can be both a friend and a customer. Huh. Now that I'm saying that out loud, I realize that a lot of my friends have seen me naked."

Steve laughed, and you grinned just at the sight of his smile. It was nice to hear his voice, but it was more than enough to be able to see the face that went along with it. Maybe this was the start to your friendship.

"I get that. And I'll always be a customer. But I think, maybe for a few days, it would be healthy for me to just see you as you. It would feel weird watching my... friend, you know," Steve couldn't even complete that sentence, and he wasn't quite sure how he could.

You did a lot of sexual stuff on camera, it wasn't just one thing. But it was how he felt. He wanted it to feel like a refresh. That didn't mean he didn't want to see you that way at all, but it was the old fashioned part of him that made him feel like he needed to see you as just you. He continued,

"You know, not while you're performing as Moonrose."

"Sure, I can appreciate that," you nodded. "But in the meantime, don't be a stranger on here. I actually like doing those things for you."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I'll definitely be back," Steve replied quickly - there wasn't a big enough old fashioned bone in his body to keep him from interacting with you the way the site was designed for. He needed you in that way, he knew that was undeniable. But first, a fresh start. "And the Snapchat thing sounds good. You do have to teach me how to use it, though."

"Sure, Steve," you smiled. You felt some sort of excited pang in your chest, like this was the start of something new and good.

Lately you'd been circulating in such good energy, and even though this came to you as a shock, the end result was so positive. You were glad to be returning to interacting with Steve, to be feeling the joyous depth of this connection that you had. You were glad that he was who he was, because it made it that much more fun to talk to him, it felt like some sort of special occasion. Because you knew Captain America, without knowing that you knew him. And now you were becoming friends with him, and it was almost normal because you had been talking to him for so long. It was hard for you to get a clear grasp on, it was so unexpected, so irregular. But it was exciting. A rush, and not in a toxic, thrilling way. It was a fulfilling and wholesome rush, one that made you feel full.

"Oh, and by the way," Steve added, the thought just coming up in his mind. "What's your real name?"

You were practically beaming. Never in your life would you have expected to be telling this to a customer, to be becoming friends. But he was asking, and you were willing to respond. You wanted him to know you, just as he wanted to know you.

"My name is Y/N," you said, like you were letting out a breath and taking in fresh air. You couldn't wipe the smile off your face when he heard your real name, how it sounded just right coming from your lips, and he decided he wanted to say it all the time.

"Hi Y/N. I'm Steve. Nice to finally meet you."

| | |

"What's got you giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush on teacher?" Sam inquired as he walked into the kitchen, catching sight of Steve leaning over the counter, his phone in his hand, an unlikely grin on his face, laughter coming from his normally pouty lips.

Steve just looked up from his phone, trying to appear as serious as possible. Sam's observation wasn't totally off, after all. For the past week or so, you and Steve had been talking through Snapchat, a different means of communication like how you discussed. You taught Steve how to download it, which was an experience unique to you and you only.

How many people could say they taught the strongest, smartest supersoldier out there how to download and create a Snapchat account? (All while you were teaching him how to use the app, he kept insisting "I'm not that old", to which you did nothing to reassure him that he wasn't). Anyways, Steve had been preoccupying himself with that as of late.

During this time, the spring period of the year, the Avengers were a lot less busy, and had a lot more downtime on their hands. He spent that downtime on Snapchat with you, and with his team in real life. And it was safe to say, he was back up again. But not in the almost superficial, hyper-pleased way that he was when he first met you, the kind of happiness that was like a sugar high that crashed hard. No, this time he was happy, truly. There were no blurred lines between the two of you at the moment, only honesty, only truth.

So when he watched your Snapchat stories on your regular snapchat and got to see your real life, he was always highly entertained. He truly wrapped himself into your hiking adventures, study sessions and student life, your daily acai bowls, all the outfits you were making, all the things you enjoyed. You weren't perfect, but he admired you so much. You were hardworking and adventurous. You made everything you did beautiful, and you only wanted beautiful energy around you - you exuded energy of that very same magnitude.

And plus, you were always sending him funny snaps - pictures of yourself with filters on them, updates about your day, or just posts you saw that you found funny. It was so good to be interacting on a humane, friend level. He could admit he got caught up sometimes, like in this very moment.

He switched off his phone, putting it in the back pocket of his sweatpants, and offered a small smile to Sam, who was teasing him.

"Hello to you too," Steve chuckled, shaking his head.

He wouldn't answer that question though. Even though he was much more comfortable with you, he still didn't want his business revolving around you to circulate. But this time it wasn't out of fear, it was simply because he wanted to keep things private and be smart about it. He still knew that his team would probably be concerned if he was talking to you at this level, that he let it get this far, but he wasn't exactly worried about that.

He just didn't want to deal with the controversy if he told them about you. For now, this was just something for him. Not secretive, but not public, either. The shift was similar to your own healing transition - Steve was less robust and scared, less type A about the whole situation.

"I don't think I've ever seen you look at your phone like that. I don't even think I've seen you on your phone... at all," Sam continued, though he wasn't pressing Steve, he was just curious.

Everyone had taken notice, once again, of Steve's shift in energy - they wondered if it would be permanent or if he would just become withdrawn or irritable once again. And they wondered what brought these shifts on, but they mainly just admired the moments like these. Maybe it was just the fact that it was getting nicer outside, that the skies were clear and blue, and that they weren't overwhelmed with work.

Steve dodged the question yet again, watching as Sam filled up a water bottle.

"First time for everything, huh?"

Sam grinned mischievously,

"My man Steve. Finally adjusting to the times."

Steve chuckled silently - he was adjusting more than Sam even knew.

And when it came to you, you were glad to have Steve in your life. He wasn't a priority to you, and that was a good feeling. He was just someone you liked talking to, a friend who you felt you had a deep connection with. You were glad that you had each cleared your feelings up, that you decided to make this compromise in order to be friends, in order to revive and live through that connection that you both acknowledged you had.

"You could say that," Steve grinned at Sam, who was in athletic clothing and was filling up a water bottle at the fridge.

"Going for a run. Wanna come with?" Sam asked, Steve smirking playfully as he folded his muscular arms, which bulged through his t-shirt. He was already in athletic wear - a tshirt and sweatpants - he was ready any time.

"That something you really wanna do right now?" Steve teased.

After taking a big gulp of water, Sam pointed at Steve, indicating that the competition was on,

"Try me."

Steve shook his head and laughed,

"Sure, why not?"

As Steve and Sam embarked on their afternoon run, they were followed by the sound of snapping cameras and flashing lights, which was normal for any Avenger doing anything. Though, press generally respected their wishes and didn't ask them any questions or bother them much, they were still there. Though, it was generally something Steve could ignore, and this time in particular it didn't bother him much. He was too wrapped up in the moment, the warm spring breeze against his face as he ran alongside his close friend, the thought of you fresh in his mind, the image of your smile burning in his brain.

All these things kept him warm, and Steve was glad. He was much too used to the cold.

✺ ✺ ✺

You liked talking to Steve - scratch that, you loved talking to Steve. If you had a connection before, it was undeniable now. It was really him. And knowing that, you could sink into the comfort of talking to him. Neither of you felt like there was anything to be afraid of. You were just friends, and it was great like that, even if you both knew you had the bursting potential to be more.

Of course you understood the romantic undertones of your relationship, they'd been there from the start, first under the guise of flirting, then stretched out as you spoke to one another and got to know each other. And now that you actually knew each other, the possibilities for more were right above your heads, all it would take was a little reach.

But you weren't quite thinking of that. You knew it, but you let yourself rest in the friendship you had now. You were still taking care of yourself, not focusing on your love life at the moment. But if the feeling should become so pressing, who were you to deny it? You would be lying to yourself if you did, and probably denying yourself a good thing. You only wanted good things.

Each day, when you thought about your situation with Steve, your heart swelled up with the magic of your beautiful secret. No one could know, of course, but it was nice to know for yourself. If there were anybody that you were going to tell, it would be Aaliyah - she usually found things anyway.

You were getting to see him as the real Steve Rogers - not Captain America, not The Man Out of Time, not the Steve Rogers that all the news stories reported on - though he wasn't quite different from the loyal, strong minded and good natured person that he was known to be. And although you knew it was so special to talk to someone like him, you didn't idolize it as much after that week, and that was good. It meant that you really did have the capacity to be friends with each other.

Out of respect for Steve, and because you were being smart, you decided that you would tell no one. You didn't want to sacrifice the fact that every day you were talking to the one and only Steve Rogers on Snapchat, and he was your friend. You enjoyed sending him things just as much as he liked receiving things. You'd taught him how to use it, but he was still getting used to all the oddities and newness of Snapchat - filters, bitmojis, all that. It was still cool to know that you had this exclusive way to talk to an Avenger. If you weren't smart, you'd tell it on the mountains.

You were just opening a snapchat from him, a picture of him and The Falcon, yet Steve had the audacity to caption it: "Out with a friend." Looking at the picture, your eyes went wide, glancing between Steve and Sam and not being able to decide who to focus on. You slowly realized there would be more perks to talking to Steve than just Steve - after all, he was a part of a team with the rest of the greats. The perks weren't all you cared about, but they definitely garnered a reaction.

You were fixated on the image, hardly paying attention to Aaliyah who was in front of you. Again you were out for brunch together. You'd decided to take up your tradition of Sunday girls brunch yet again, ever since you'd started up therapy and your self proclaimed healing process. But what was great about that process was that you were in a space where you could say that you were happy. Still on ground, but at least you weren't beneath the surface of the earth.

"Hello! Earth to YN!" Aaliyah exclaimed, waving her hand in front of your face.

Quickly, you turned off your phone, the image of Steve and Sam disappearing (but how badly you wanted to screenshot it), and set it down on the table, letting a smile replace your entranced features. You folded your arms and tried to appear as nonchalant as possible. Luckily, Aaliyah didn't get on your ass about whatever was on your phone, because she had other things on her mind.

"What's up?" you quirked your eyebrow, taking a sip of your green juice.

"You know what's up. I've been trying to ask you about Alex all week," Aaliyah raised her eyebrows, and you nearly chortled at the mention of his name.

You remembered that incident, it had only been a week ago. But that was a moment of spontaneity. You weren't thinking of seeing him again, but Aaliyah seemed to have other plans.

"What about him?" you smirked, biting down on your straw.

"You know 'what about him'! You were sucking his face and then you never spoke again, that's what about him," Aaliyah replied.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but a blush came to your cheeks as you remembered the events that went down. Lucky for you though, both you and Alex had agreed that you weren't looking for anything. So you felt fine just leaving it the way it was. You liked those moments of spontaneity, liked the fact that you didn't need to worry.

"And let's leave it just like that," you grinned, and Aaliyah leaned back in her chair, impressed.

"Hmm. This is interesting for you. You really aren't a hookup girl, I mean, not in real life. I'd think you wanted something more out of that."

Aaliyah was right, you weren't a hookup girl. You had your attractions in the past, but even before your boyfriend, you'd been more traditional. You were attractive and flirtatious though, so you'd had a small amount of flings and hookups, but it wasn't your style. You did it so much on the internet to begin with. In real life, you had a good balance of spontaneity and regularity. But this was different.

You had done what you did with Alex for yourself, for your own pleasure with no strings attached, with the knowledge that this wouldn't be followed by the long, winding road of trust exercises and disappointment that came with an actual relationship. And it inadvertently taught you to stop resisting when you wanted someone, even if it didn't mean you'd be together forever. Would you do it again? Probably not. You'd satisfied that small craving you had.

In response to Aaliyah, you simply shrugged and said,

"I guess there's just more in store for me."

✺ ✺ ✺

After the run with Sam, Steve took a hot shower and let the water run down his body. As always, hot showers brought along thinking sessions. Usually Steve thought of the things he'd lost, the things he still had yet to adjust to. But right now, all he had on his mind was you. And it didn't make him melancholy or nervous the way that it did in the past.

This time he just thought of you with sweet pleasure, without even touching himself. And he thought of the things Bucky had said about trust, just a little while before he'd revealed his face to you; about how at surface level it can appear hard to trust someone, but that gut instinct reveals who you could trust, even if it didn't seem like you should. And you were gaining Steve's trust steadfastly.

To Steve, it was crazy that you had only just started talking to each other on this level. You felt much closer. It made sense, because you'd spoken for so much time before, but it wasn't the same as how you were speaking now. It was developing, quick and easy, it wasn't hard for Steve to call you his friend.

And maybe, even more. The same with you, Steve had known the romantic potentials of your relationship - it was a part of what had scared him off at first. He knew it, maybe even more than you did. Because while you solely acknowledged the romantic potential, Steve could feel himself looking a bit more into it. He was wondering what it might be like to be closer to you- the beautiful pros and even the cons. He wanted to know how much closer he could get, to satisfy the feeling of simply wanting to be closer. He couldn't get enough of you and your cute quirks and the conversations you had together outside of the cam site.

Being friends with you was more than enough, but the feelings that were bubbling up were hard to ignore. They made him so vibrant, and it was noticeable. He kept his head on his shoulders, but not pinned on too hard. Some part of him thought that maybe he was just letting his head go too far in the clouds because he wasn't used to being this spontaneous, wasn't used to the feeling of earning a new friend under such exclusive circumstances. That the freshness of the situation was getting him overexcited, and that maybe he was more of an old fuddy duddy than he realized. But another part of him thought that this was a slow blooming realization, and that he shouldn't clip it while it was still budding.

It was exciting, it was nerve wracking. He had felt this way before the reveal, but it was crushed beneath the ruins of his own anxieties and fears. Now that he felt he was free to connect in this way, he was hopeful, like there really was something out there for him. Months ago, he thought looking for love was pretty much a dead end, and something he didn't have the time for. Now, even though he wasn't infatuated, he was a bit more optimistic about the fact that there was something here for him, something he had passed roadblocks to get to.

He was already learning from you, he could only imagine what you could teach each other if you got closer. And so, the possibility, no matter how reachable or unreachable it was, intrigued him. He was walking around with the ghost of a smile on his face because of it. Again, he wasn't completely gone off you. The feeling was like he was just dipping his toes in to a very deep pool.

He was lying in bed, opening another snap from you. No filter, no makeup, just you in bed on your side, the sheets over your head, a small smile to match your sleepy eyes. The caption read: "goodnight!" Steve couldn't help but feel special about the fact that he got to see you up close like this, outside of your Moonrose act, stripped down, the same way you felt special about the fact that you were texting someone like him. He looked at the picture for far too long, in the same position as you, smiling before he was able to realize he was even doing it. If he could feel all these things just by looking at you, a friend, he knew there was more to come. And finally, he was thinking he could be open to that.

Thinking that he could want to take things further, on his own initiative.

note: EEP!!! this was a big chapter !!! how do we feel <3

#orbitariums #girls on film #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers reader insert #captain america x reader #captain america #captain america imagine #captain america x you #smut #marvel #marvel smut #marvel imagine #steve rogers series #marvel series

237 notes · View notes

notgonnarememberthis · 3 years

Text

find your way (back to me) - chapter two

The reception for this fic was so fucking sweet, this really went beyond what I expected I honestly just thought this would be a self service fic but it hit off so well. Honestly, wrote the next chapter to cope with the anxiety of being home and general holiday stress so I hope y’all enjoy it. And thank y’all for all the sweet comments they mean the fucking world to me.

Jessica tries not to let the sigh escape her throat, she really does. But when Gil comes in arms loaded with gifts it probably took him weeks to save for she can’t help it.

She can afford literally anything he wanted to buy for her or the kids and then some, but she resisted.

If not to see the proud little grin on his face when he knows he absolutely nailed the gift that the recipient never even knew they wanted.

He’s quite good at knowing what people never knew they needed.

She invites him in, nonetheless, taking some of the load off, only with a little chiding that he still shouldn’t carry so much. It has only been a few months since his injury. He needs to give his body time to heal.

Malcolm and Ainsley would arrive soon, hopefully carrying something that wasn’t a twist-on. But for now she would enjoy Gil’s company. His warmth wards off the cold that always seemed to linger in the hollow rooms. His smile lights up even the darkest corners as she leans into his embrace. He pulls out old records that collected dust for years, grabbing her hand and swinging her around the room with more grace than anyone would expect.

They don’t even notice when the children arrive. Only when Gil spins her and she nearly runs straight into Malcolm do they realize they are no longer alone. The laughter catches the air like a flame, spreading across the room with an infectious glee that most of them had not known for far too long. Gil pulls Ainsley in next, taking her as his next partner.

She almost bursts with joy when Malcolm takes her hand to dance without hesitation. His movements are still but he is letting go, allowing himself to enjoy the small moments in life that don’t revolve around homicide.

She’s so proud that she feels tears building behind her eyes.

The music fades and the silence takes over, no longer as deafening but rather content.

Jessica startles awake to a loud crash. Immediately she regrets opening her eyes as pain rips through her head. She reaches up to feel where it hurts but something is holding her down.

It takes a few seconds for the world to come into focus, once it does she wishes desperately for the peace of the dream. Her hands are zip tied to the chair she’s sitting in, her neck and head both ache like nobody’s business. She shuffles through her mind to try to remember what the hell happened. There was a crash, then her world was spinning, she checked on Adolpho… Oh god, Adolpho.

A soft sob of realization takes over her. What happened between the crash and now? How the hell did she get here? She was on her way to a meeting for becoming the head of Eve’s charity in her honor.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Fake sincerity drips from a figure previously hidden by the shadows. She stiffens, suddenly all too aware of her situation. She holds still, as if that would help, if she wouldn’t move they wouldn’t see her. If she closes her eyes she can open them again to the warmth and happiness radiating from her family. “Sorry for the mess, had to improvise.” The shadow gestures absentmindedly.

“Who are you?” Her voice rasps painfully. She wonders how long exactly she was out for.

“Oh, that doesn’t matter. I’m much more interested in you.” He comes closer, enough for her to recognize that he’s wearing a mask. “Jessica Whitly, my you are a sob story if there ever was one.” He walks across the room, footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. “Disgraced daughter of the Miltons, married to a serial killer, and dated another socialite exposed to be heading a dubious business,” he sighs. “Truly Shakespearian, have you thought about selling the rights to your story?”

“Are you done?” She tries not to let her voice waver, her fear shakes just beneath the surface, but she’s not running or hiding now. Malcolm and Gil will find her. She just needs to stall as long as she possibly can.

“Hardly.” The venomous glee sends a chill down her spine. He tilts his head in a way that flashes her back as if she were in Claremont all this time. “Just killing time until our guest arrives.”

“I can give you all the money you want, just let me go.” The bark of a laugh makes her jump, immediately regretting the sudden movement as pain pierces her skull yet again.

“I don’t want your money. It can all burn for all I give a shit.”

“What do you want then?” She pleads.

Even with the mask she can feel his deadly grin, like a cat taunting it’s prey just before it pounces. “You.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gil checks his phone yet again, waiting for Malcolm’s text. He told JT to get Ainsley and get both of them back to the precinct immediately. He almost wishes he’d done it for himself, having them in his sight would be a hell of a lot more comforting right now especially as he stares at the lieu of pictures scattered across his desk.

He trusts JT, though. He’s getting them here as fast as he possibly can with two out of three of the most stubborn people he’s ever met in the back of his car. No doubt they have hundreds of questions that poor JT doesn’t even know the answer to, he’s simply following orders and right now they’re on a strict need to know basis.

Colette will lock Malcolm down as soon as he arrives. He’ll be able to loosen the reigns, but only a little. He’ll be lucky to leave without Dani or JT personally handcuffed to him. Hell, Gil will be lucky if she doesn’t choose him to be handcuffed to Malcolm.

He hears the door to his office open and he feels the lump in his throat develop once again.

“Why are the FBI here?” “Why did I just get pulled out of work and rushed here?” “Why isn’t mom answering my calls?” “Why did we get escorted here by two more cop cars?”

The two siblings speak simultaneously and he sighs raising a hand to stop them. He braces himself delivering the news as impersonally as he could to the two people he basically watched grow up. “You’re both familiar with the kidnappings and murders in Boston?” They nodded, going to talk again but he stopped them with a pointed stare. “This morning there was an accident, one of the cars matched the plates of the car Agent Swanson has been tracking for that case.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Ainsley asks, fingers playing with the hem of her sleeve, it’s a nervous tick he’s known since she was 12. Her mother tried to break the habit but was never really successful.

“The other driver was Adolpho.” Ainsley’s eyes widen, she looks to Malcolm who only nods solemnly. “He died on impact.”

“Oh my god.” Malcolm reaches over, squeezing her hand. He watches the younger man straighten, preparing himself for the next blow. He’s all too familiar with the practices and knows that Gil has more to deliver to them. He nods, silently telling him to continue.

“We found this in the backseat of the car.” He turns the photo of Jessica’s phone to them and watches as the dots connect in both of their heads. “We also found blood on the back window that we believe is your mother’s.”

“You believe?” Ainsley’s voice cracks for the first time that he’s heard in years. Even after Paul Lazar, even after Endicott Ainsley didn’t waver. “What do you mean you believe is hers? Where is she?”

“You think the killer took her.” Malcolm whispers. Almost as if he says it too loud, it will make it true. His hands fly to his eyes sucking in a breath when Gil nods in confirmation. He knows it’s his way of trying to keep tears back, just long enough to keep his head from going into full meltdown and instead switching to investigator. “Dani found CCTV footage of the wreck. The suspect’s car redlight, crashing into Adolpho without even slowing down. The man climbs out of the car and goes out of frame. A couple minutes later an ambulance shows up, another man helps your mother into the back and they drive off.”

“Shouldn’t she be fine then? We just need to find out want hospital they took her to. She’s probably logged as a Jane Doe if she doesn’t have her purse either. She probably hit her head and she’s confused or unconscious and we need to-”

“Ainsley.” Malcolm’s tone stops her. He’s already read Gil’s expression, knowing what’s coming next.

“The ambulance on the scene was reported stolen just an hour before the wreck.” He watches as Ainsley’s face crumples, despite her best attempts to hold it together. Malcolm pulls her into a loose hug, rubbing her back in comfort. He can tell only by the slightly uneven breaths that Malcolm is crying as well.

His eyes sting and every fatherly instinct wants him to go to them and hug them. Tell them everything will be fine just like he did 20 years ago. He gives them time to settle again, determination overpowering their shock and grief. “What can we do?”

“Right now, stay in sight. I’ve already got the FBI pressing hard enough on this pushing for a clean end but I don’t think that’ll be the case. Something doesn’t feel right. I’m assigning each of you an officer and if either of you tries to shake them or go off on your own I’m putting you in a holding cell.” He raises a brow at the two of them. “Understand?”

“Yes.” They answer in unison. Gil tries not to think about the two kids, hardened too young. With only each other and their mother to hold onto in the storm that raged around them. Now with one less thing anchoring them to this earth.

“Let’s get to work.” XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The clanging of metal pulls Jessica’s attention from the deep abyss she allowed herself to sink into. The man had long left with the promise of the “guest” lingering over her head. She busied herself praying to every deity that she could think of that Malcolm, Ainsley, Gil, all of them were safe. She stopped believing in God long ago but her desperation outweighs her beliefs right now.

Different, slower footsteps shamble in front of her. This man looks younger, his physique, at least. He places something down against the wall before dragging a chair in front of her. She feels bile rise in the back of her throat when the something against the wall groans in pain. The man shuffles back over to the body, lifting it with ease yet again and placing it in the chair across from her. He secures the wrists individually to the chair before standing behind it. She stares at him for a moment, she swears his movements almost seem hesitant.

The static of a radio starting up breaks the relative silence. “Take off his hood.” She recognizes the voice of the man who was taunting her earlier. The other figure does as he says, removing the bag from over the tied up man’s head. Fearful bloodshot eyes meet hers. “This is Tommy Moore. He is a resident at Montgomery and from what I hear? He will make a promising young surgeon one day.” She swallows hard trying to calm the nerves building up in her stomach. “Do you know who she is Tommy?” The poor boy can only get out a whimper. Her heart sinks when she hears the sound of a gun cocking from behind him. “Answer me!”

“Y-yes.” He chokes out. “I saw her on the news. She was looking for a missing girl o-on Christmas.”

“Do you think she would choose your life over her own?” Tommy bows his head sobbing openly. “Please don’t do this.”

“Let him go.” She begs.

“Well would you Mrs. Whitly?” The sentence cuts deep. “Would you choose your life over his?” She closes her eyes, a few tears sliding down her cheeks. She thinks of Malcolm and Ainsley, no idea of where she was. She thinks of Gil, pouring everything he has into finding her. She even thinks of Martin, the horrid man who no doubt has caused this somehow in some way.

And then she thinks of her dream. She holds onto the smell of Gil’s cologne surrounding her as they spin around her living room, the sound of Ainsley’s laugh bouncing off of the walls as Gil dips her, Malcolm’s smile brighter than she remembers it being in so very long. And she hopes they forgive her. “No.”

The silence feels as if it stretches for hours. She waits for the gunshots. She waits for the pain and then the utter nothingness of death. “Perhaps you didn’t understand my question. Would you die so that Tommy here can live?”

“Yes, I would.” The boy cries only get louder, mixed with tragedy and relief. She almost wants to cry with him.

“No!” The voice roars and they hear something from the other room crash. “You’re doing this wrong!” Another stretch of silence, this one even longer than the last. “You would rather die, so that he can live?!” Tommy looks at her, finally, and the realization strikes her. His eyes looked familiar, the same shade as Martin’s. His curly, unkempt hair even the shade so similar she’d assume he was a relative had she not known Martin had no other family. Everything was a subconscious push so that she’d choose her own life over his. This was a losing game.

“I choose his life over mine.” She says with more anger than before. She wouldn’t fall for this game. Even if it meant her own she wouldn’t put an innocent life on the line. She hopes for her children’s sake that they find her eventually. She hopes that they find peace.

“Shoot him.”

“What?” The man with a gun asks before either of them could.

“Shoot him!” The shot makes her ears pop. She never knew a gun could be that loud. Blood hits her face causing her to flinch, watching in horror as the boy slumps forwards. A cry rips through her throat as she struggles against the bonds tying her down.

“Why?!” She screams. “Why did you do that?!” She folds over on herself trying to contain the panic threatening to swallow her whole. Every fiber of her wants to fight back, to fight her way back to her family. Her head screeches in pain, spots flashing in front of her eyes. It only seems to get more intense though as her world tilts and spins with an effort to stay awake.

“You chose wrong.”

#gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #gilssica #gil arroyo #jessica whitly #malcolm bright #Ainsley Whitly #prodigal son #prodigal son au #kidnapping au #find your way (back to me)#find your way (back to me) chapter two #fanfic #notgonnarememberthis fics

10 notes · View notes

austarus · 4 years

Text

HR Wells x Reader Hidden Among The Fairy Lights (Part 3 of 3)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to @countlesswells

*Oops, my hand slipped again, now to work on MCAT Prep and Crisis of Infinite Wells

Word Count: 3844

Part 1 Part 2

You took in one slow breath as your mind registered the pesky sunlight. Morning already? Cracking your neck, your eyes gradually fluttered open as your arms reached across the bed only for you to realize the cold emptiness of the other side. HR? Where did he go? You sat up and looked around, sleepy confusion written all over your face. Did I do something weird in my sleep? Oh my god, did I accidentally slap him? …Do I even move much in my sleep? Ridiculous thoughts flew in and out of your brain before you were hit with the face that YOU HAD SLEPT NEXT TO THE ONE GUY YOU WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR (i.e. HR, your crush and possibly the unrequited love of your life, duh). Was it necessary? Yes, very. It should be noted that you’re very much of a cuddler when you’re asleep. Maybe that’s why he got up? I bothered him, didn’t I? Oh, he probably didn’t sleep much because of me and-.

The collar of HR’s shirt slid slightly over one shoulder. Hm, it seems my girls are still free. You automatically placed your hands over your cheeks at all the thoughts hitting you at once, feeling how hot they’ve become that you literally slept with HR, but you didn’t sleep with HR. Caitlin and Cisco must never know. But that didn’t stop your heart from beating just a little bit faster at the thought. Before your mind and heart can go into full meltdown mode, your stomach grumbled, interrupting the countdown to melting down. I’m hungry, what time is it? You fished around for your phone only to realize that it’s still dead. Maybe there’s a spare charger around here? Your stomach grumbled again in protest after the thought. Or I guess food can come first.

***

A tiny tune left HR’s lips as he entered the Labs again, bag in hand with the notion of heading to the breakroom’s kitchen to make some breakfast for you and himself, obviously with the accompaniment of his special blend of coffee. He assumed you’d still be asleep at this hour since it was only 7:22 AM. The fantasy author ran a hand over the back of his neck as he strode to the breakroom. Upon arriving at the doorway, HR’s eyes widened slightly, and an amused smirk teased his lips as he watched the scene unfold across the kitchen area. He leaned against the metal frame of the door soundlessly. The cabinet had been open wide, cups settled on the top shelf as well as the bags of Jitters coffee. The Wells doppelganger noted that you still had his clothes on, which allowed his heart to thrum warmly in his chest, and your hair had been pulled into a messy bun. Yes, the sight did please him greatly.

A frustrated puff of air had left your lips as you climbed the counter in one fluid motion. HR silently snickered as you stabled yourself on your knees, reaching up for a bag of coffee beans. Looking through each shelf level, you couldn’t find your mug as you moved some over to find yours. Quietly, the novelist padded over to you while you clinked around with the cups. How did my mug get all the way over there? You spotted your ceramic mug on the other side of the big cabinet in the farthest corner. You set down the coffee bag beside you on the counter. I swear Barry and Cisco are going to get an earful for this. Shuffling your knees over, you stretched an arm to move some mugs while successfully grabbing your mug only for your knee to slip under the weight and pressure of your body at this particular angle. The world slowed until you felt yourself hit something firm, but definitely not the cold and hard ground.

“You know,” HR started, his arms around you held you tightly to himself as he set you down. Your cheeks had flared up. “You could always ask for assistance. If you truly desire it.”

“I didn’t need your help, I had everything perfectly under control,” you retorted in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. HR quirked a knowing eyebrow at you.

“And I assume the wobbling backwards to almost falling onto the floor was also part of your brilliant plan.”

“Of course.” It wasn’t, I could have almost split my head open if I landed on the ground oddly, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. You set down your mug beside the coffee maker.

“You never fail to entertain me, little birdy.” He chuckled at your little pout, reaching for the bag he had dropped. You quizzically looked at him as he handed it over to you. “I… went out to buy you somethings so that you’d be able to freshen up in the morning since-” HR proceeded to ramble on about what had happened yesterday. A bashful smile made its place on your face at his generous thought. Why are you so sweet? You opened the bag to find a toothbrush and toothpaste along with other things like facewash and such. Is that why he got up early in the morning? You thought, going back to the bathroom to fully freshen up. You wanted to ask, but you did not want to use up your third question even though this one might just be killing you on the inside to know. Meanwhile HR raked through the refrigerator for a decent breakfast to make for the two of you while looking over the ingredients you had pulled out already.

Once you were back to the kitchen, heavenly scents wafted towards you as well as the sounds of low whistling had greeted your ears. The balcony door had been cracked open to let a little air into the breakroom, allowing the heat to dissociate.

“What are you doing?” You obviously knew what he was doing but felt the need to ask as he flipped scrambled eggs on one pan to switch to another for pancake-making. Did I really take that long to freshen up? In truth, no, because HR’s quite capable in the kitchen when it comes to breakfast foods seeing as that is what he’d lived on when he lived alone on Earth-19.

“Making breakfast?”

“But I was going to make you breakfast to repay you for your kindness.”

“But you don’t need to repay me, little birdy.” Well, I mean you can repay me by giving me a kiss. HR felt the tips of his ears warm up at the intruding thought.

“But I want to,” you poked his upper arm, giving him an innocent-ish look and grin.

“Nope.”

“Please?”

HR took one look at you. “Non.”

You huffed at him before sneaking behind him as he went back to handling the eggs. “Then I guess, I’ll just have to take this.” You grabbed his special coffee bag off the counter and dashed off as if you had super speed. A mockingly evil-ish laugh left your lips as you ran away.

“Hey!” HR quickly turned the stove off and hurried after you. “My special blend! That’s my baby!”

Your messy bun bounced a bit with each quick step you took, the cool ground against your bare feet. Taking one look back, you caught HR glide around the corner and semi-crash into the concrete wall. Giggles left your mouth as your brain directed your feet subconsciously to the direction of his room. Right as you entered the room, you took a few steps forward feeling caged that you had no other exits other than the bathroom. Long arms wrapped around you before you could turn to an exit or duck away from the taller man as you held the coffee bag close to you. You squealed at being caught, a huge grin refusing to leave you face. Your limbs had entangled with his at one point as you struggled against him, causing the both of you to tip backwards instantaneously only to land with a plop on his plush bed.

“I gotcha,” HR breathed out, a smile on his face matching your own. You noted the odd look behind his eyes, a different emotion held in the depths of them. But your heart had leaped at being caught.

Of course, he caught me eventually, he literally goes out for a run every morning. And works out like a freaking champ… Not that I- He’s told me- Come on (Y/N), don’t be a thirsty hoe.

“Oh boo,” you whispered, handing the novelist the coffee beans bag to which he set it aside somewhere to be forgotten on the bed. You watched him prop himself up on an arm, his muscle flexing automatically as he gazed down to you. HR reached up to the top of your head. You felt his hands weave through your tresses to gently tug out the hair tie. Perfection, he mused to himself as he raked his eyes over every detail of your face as your hair fell into place. HR blinked, realizing that he had said his thought out loud to which you blushed at his comment. The bashfulness returning to your person. But the novelist made no effort to apologize, because he truly did think you were the definition of perfection even with all your flaws and quirks. He wasn’t going to take back the truth in his words.

You pursed your lips, feeling yourself get lost in his eyes as you became conscious of your slow breaths. HR couldn’t help himself but after setting your hair free and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, he had gingerly cupped your face.

“Would you let me ask you a question to fulfill?”

“I thought I was the one to ask the questions.”

“Humor me, would you?” You did with a sly-ish grin and rolled your eyes. “Close your eyes?” he whispered, and you did as you were told. Jitters weaved through your body as butterflies fluttered about as you anticipated what he would do. HR leaned in close, gently planting a kiss to your cheek. It’s not what I really wanted, but it’s close. I’m not hers to just spontaneously kiss out of nowhere and whenever I please. He didn’t want to be ambitious in case you wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings. Your eyes snapped open, disappointment jabbing at you a bit. HR watched your eyebrows knit together a bit and panic grasped at his heart. He swallowed thickly as you opened your mouth.

“HR.”

“Yeah?”

“You missed.” HR blinked at you a few times, his brain short-circuiting because he thought you were going to tell him off. Your heartbeat echoed throughout your body, feeling a bit heavy as you boldly spoke once more. “W-well?”

Your words finally sunk in. “I won’t miss this time,” a wry smirk formed on his lips as he snapped out of his mind space, HR leaned close once more with half-lidded eyes, but this time you met him halfway out of sheer curiosity of what his lips would feel like against your own. He kissed you sweetly and slowly, your mouths melding together before pulling away for air. You ran your teeth over your bottom lip, the small action urging HR to go in for more. You met his mouth with the same amount of passion again and again, revitalized from your air break. Intoxicating, the novelist thought as he nibbled on your lip, earning him a little gasp from you. He smirked against you, his limbs entangling with yours. Simple kisses becoming longer and longer, and soon your tongues had joined in the mix as they explored together. You had rested your hands on his chest, one hand slightly clutching his shirt as if to bring him impossibly closer to you. HR gently threaded his fingers through your hair which caused a shudder to go down your spine as he held you. His other hand moved to lie on your hip.

When you both finally pulled away, you noted how pink his cheeks and ears were as you were a bit breathless from the kisses. HR noticed the dazed gleam in your eyes, of course he did. Pride and joy swelled inside of him as he watched you with haziness in his own eyes, knowing that he could render you in such a state. You gently grasped his face with both hands after a few seconds, truly examining him with clearer eyes now as you had caught your breath. The pads of your thumbs lightly ran over the slight bags under his eyes. “You didn’t sleep well.”

HR snapped out of his trance, losing the hazy stardust that had resided in his eyes. He quizzically looked at you. “I slept fine.”

“No, HR, I can see the bags. You didn’t sleep well.” HR avoided your gaze, but you held him gingerly in your hands. “What’s wrong?”

“I- It’s nothing, I’m ok. I promise,” you watched him plaster a fake smile onto his face. It hurt your heart that he did that to you. That he wouldn’t want to confide in you about his dreams or nightmares.

“I heard you whimpering in the middle of the night.” Your hands slowly left his face as you moved to sit up against the headboard of the bed. HR gazed up at your from where he laid, electric blues observing you. You looked to your lap before folding your legs to your chest. “You- you were muttering, and you looked like you were in so much pain. I tried to wake you up, but you wouldn’t. So… I tried to calm you down and you eventually did.” You rested your chin on your knees as your arm wrapped around your legs. “I just wanted to help.”

HR moved his eyes from you then to the ceiling of his room. He shut his eyes slowly, guilt biting at him at how sad you sounded, how you saw his pain and tried what you could. Even if he did try to push you away in this instance. “I’ve been having nightmares.” You moved your gaze to see him adjusting himself to sit beside you. You held out a hand for him. He placed his into your own, fingers automatically intertwining together. His eyes met yours and you couldn’t help the small and sympathetic smile on your face. HR sent you a sort of solemn smile as if to say that ‘it is what it is’. He never talked about his nightmares. He’s been told too many times in life that his problems, thoughts, and ideas weren’t really essential in conversations for others to know or care about. He just didn’t want to burden you.

“For my third question before I set you free,” you stammered out, wondering if… “What did you see in your nightmares?”

“Why do you care?” His retaliation took you off guard. You blinked at him. “Why do you care so much? Why do you have such trust in me? I’m just… me.”

“Because you matter, you’re a person too, HR. You deserve to be able to confide in someone. To have someone to breakdown to.” You wanted to hug him. You wanted to scream that you love him, that you’d do anything for him and that he deserves so much better. Bile rose to your throat as words fell out of your mouth. “Why can’t you see that you deserve happiness?” You wanted to go after all the people who’s told him otherwise. All those cruel and cold-hearted individuals who have completely broken this man to the point where he questions his worth. But you remained frozen in your spot, wondering if HR could be as volatile as Harry when pushed to a certain point.

HR’s eyes locked onto yours once more, analyzing the intentions behind your words, the emotions behind your eyes. Searching for ill intent to him as others have. But time after time, you had proven no malicious motive. No sign to want to damage him any further. HR sighed harshly, narrowing his eyes at his lap and squeezing your hand. The silence killed you, but you waited. If not now, then maybe he’d open up later. You didn’t know. You didn’t know if you’d shattered everything that had happened either.

“At first,” HR spoke up before you’d come to a decision to leave him to his space, “my nightmares were mild.” He glanced at you before continuing. “The popular theme of my cowardice, always running away from problem to problem. And then, before I knew it, I would be reliving my mother’s death. Traumatizing as a child, my mind echoing each harsh word that my father had spoken to me.” You pursed your lips, moving your gaze down. You despised his dead father. “The toxic relations that people had forced onto me on Earth-19 in attempts to discredit my father and the family name, especially after I was outed. Everyone just wanted something from me. And they took it, disregarding the collateral damage that they had done to me.”

“And last night?”

“I- I- You-” You furrowed your eyebrows at him. “I was in a sea of blood and carcasses; the acrid smell was stinging and foul.” Like the author he is, he painted the scene of his nightmare vividly, goosebumps running over your skin. “I was the reason you would die.” He whispered softly, not daring to look at you. You scooted closer to him, patting a free hand on his shoulder while he held onto the other as if he was holding on for dear life. He couldn’t tell you about who Gypsy really was. He couldn’t risk jinxing what little he’s built here on his own. “They all ended the same, with a gaping hole in my heart. I was empty and alone.” HR looked helplessly at you with glistening eyes. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, he slowly returned it as he hid face in your chest. “I’m not a coward.”

“I know,” your voice shook as you swallowed thickly. “You’re not alone. You’re not empty.” His breath hiked up at your words. “You don’t need to be smart or a genius physicist to have the heart and courage to protect the ones you love.” HR pulled away with red eyes. You cupped his face and wiped his tears away, unknowingly seating yourself in his lap. “You’re a good man, HR. Don’t let anyone ever take that heart of gold away from you.” His eyes widened a fraction, those words sounding similar to what his mother had told him before she passed away right before his eyes. “I’ll always be here for you. Right by your side, no matter what happens.”

“Thank you,” he sniffled, smiling genuinely at you.

You smiled at him, kissing his cheek before reaching over to pet his floofy hair. He perked up at the adoring affection. Sorta like a puppy. The two of you found yourselves cuddled up in each other’s arms on the bed, exchanging little kisses and small, goofy stories to one another in hopes to lighten up the mood. HR thought back to his conversation with Wallace as you giggled at his pun before resting your head against his chest and shutting your eyes.

(Flashback)

“You like (Y/N), don’t you?” Wally has asked the Wells doppelganger as he had seen all the lingering glances and longing looks, he had thrown you since his time here on Earth-1. HR had almost dropped his drumsticks at the Wally’s sudden voice. He had moved his gaze to Wally form watching you work on the other side of the Cortex, fully invested in your coding and algorithms to track

“What? What? No, I- No.”

Wally took a seat beside his unusual friend as he spoke, “Mm, so then care to explain why you’ve been staring at her for the past 15 minutes?” HR looked sheepishly at the young speedster.

“She doesn’t see me like that. I’m a nobody and she’s-” HR took a glimpse at you before looking back to Wally. “Smart, kind, goofy. That cute smile of hers. Devotion and work-ethic. A heart of true gold that I could never compare her to any heavenly being ever.”

“Can’t forget oblivious.” They’re both oblivious.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Wally patted HR’s shoulder, an amused smirk on his face. “Just shoot your shot, man. You never know what’ll happen.” The speedster stood up; HR looked at him quizzically with furrowed eyebrows. “And you never know who’ll capture her heart first. You know, if you haven’t already.” Wally had left HR with more to think about than discovering his worth on the team.

(End Flashback)

“Will you be my one one one?” Your eyes snapped open as HR started. He decided now would be the best time to head the young speedster’s advice. Are we really that oblivious… to each other? To all the signs? You tilted your head a bit and knitted your eyebrows. Clear confusion written on your face.

“You’re ‘one one one’?”

“It’s when one soul, mine, plus one soul, yours, equals one soul. Us.”

The way he softly said ‘Us’, made your mind almost go blank. You swore your heart did a thing and then stopped. “If this is your way of asking me to be your girlfriend, I’ve got to say it’s pretty cute,” you pecked his lips, “and it works.”

“Is that a yes?”

You kissed him once more before nipping back at his lips for earlier, your face happily flushing coral-pink, “Does that answer your third question, oh noble writer?”

“… I may need a reminder or two… maybe more,” HR smiled sheepishly, already leaning in for some more smooches. Before you two can smooch, your stomach grumbled one last time, the bite of hunger hitting you again for the third time that morning. “But first, we need to get some food into you.”

You stuck your tongue out at this teasing, “But I’m cooking this time.”

“Mm, but I’m semi-done so. Checkmate, little birdy.”

“I’ll just have to make you something else then.”

“Is that so? Lead the way, my little songbird.”

***

Wally opened the door to HR’s room, hoping to find HR for today’s secret training session while Barry deals with Savitar. You were apparently MIA, who Wally was also tasked with finding today. A proud smile had crossed the speedster’s face as his eyes landed on you cuddled up to HR in the bed with the covers pulled around you two. You two were sound asleep, your back against HR’s chest whiles his arms held you comfortably. See, HR had muted his phone when the two of you had started your cuddle session so that no one would interrupt the two of you. Just for today, at least.

“That’s my man,” Wally snickered to himself as he turned off the fairy lights and quietly shut the door, leaving the two of you to sleep. Dorks, I’ll make sure the others don’t bother them too much.

#harrison wells x reader #harrison wells #hr wells x reader #hr x reader #hr wells #The Flash #the flash cw #the flash fanfiction #the flash x reader #the flash imagine #team flash x reader #team flash #team flash imagine #dc #DC comics #DCTV #dctv fanfic #harrison wells imagine #hr wells imagine

77 notes · View notes

kaitycole · 4 years

Text

Barely Breathing

Summary: Liam continues to process and learn more about his mother, Eleanor

Word Count: 2521

Pairings: Drake x Riley, Constantine x Eleanor

Warnings: N/A

Part 10 of WP. To catch up read here.

Tag List: @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @bobasheebaby @bascmve01 @burnsoslow @the-everlasting-dream @ao719 @sirbeepsalot @janezillow @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @kimmiedoo5 @choices97 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite@lodberg @edgiestwinter @marshmallowsandfire @hopefulmoonobject

**I don’t own the characters, just borrowing them**

“No.” Liam’s voice doesn’t raise above a whisper. He shakes his head repeatedly as if what he’s just read will change.

Panic fills his lungs with each breath as his chest tightens up. He presses his palms firmly into his desk as he stands up and walks over to his bookshelf. An entire shelf was dedicated to his mother; her favorite books, books she had read to him, framed photographs, her journals. His fingers gently grazed the spines of the books before he picked each one off the shelf one by one and threw them as hard as he could across the room.

He knew it would only be moments before guards burst into the room to check on him, he was surprised they weren’t already there. Book by book slammed against the walls of the office before he turned his attention to the photographs. Without hesitation, they too were smashed into the walls; glass shattering on impact and scattering across the wooden floor.

He wanted no reminders of his mother in the palace and soon stormed out and practically ran to the grand hall. Several guards tail him, but he just waves them off. He is on a mission now. Each step causes him to walk pass an oil painting of a previous ruler of Cordonia; each king and queen hung on this wall. Finally, he stopped in front of his mother’s: Queen Eleanor Rys. The commoner queen from Auvernese. Kindhearted Eleanor.

For months after her death, Liam could be found at this portrait. Sometimes he could be found sitting there reading one of the books she’d read him, but more times than not, he’d be found asleep, having cried himself to sleep.

But today, today he stands in front of this portrait and feels anger. He wraps his fingers around the frame and tries to rip it off the wall. For several minutes, Liam pulls and tugs at the painting trying to remove it from the wall.

“If she didn’t want to be Queen, Cordonia doesn’t need a reminder of her.”

“Your Majesty?” A guard slowly approaches the king.

“Have this taken down.” He walks pass him, “NOW!”

“Liam, honey.” Her voice is full of sleep which causes him to turn his neck in her direction. He looks down at his watch: 3:45 am and then back at Olivia, who is pulling the belt of her robe tighter.

He doesn’t answer her, he doesn’t know what to say to her. He doesn’t even think his voice would work if he tried; his throat burns from screaming at the night sky.

She takes a seat next to him on the bench near the garden that saw his wrath earlier that day. It’s not until he turns to look at her, just inches apart, that she can truly see his face. He’s paler than usual, black circles line his red, puffy eyes and he looks exhausted.

Something is said, but it’s too low for her to hear and when he repeats it, she watches the man she loves, completely shatter.

“She’s gone, Liv.” He starts crying, “She died three years ago.” He sinks to his knees in front of her, placing his head on her lap before letting, all the pain he’s ever felt, out.

----

Liam grips tightly to the side of his mother’s dress as they walk through the palace courtyard. It was one of the last days of autumn, the coldness slowly creeping into the air which meant the days of Liam and Momma adventures were winding down.

He looks up at her and smiles, he loves his momma. She’s was his favorite person and tied for his best friend with Drake. Lately she seems to be busier than usual, but Liam didn’t mind because she always made it up to him. She even snuck Leo and him into a restaurant so the three of them could enjoy a nice meal without the press a few days ago. And now they were going somewhere special on the palace grounds.

Eleanor looks at Liam who is beaming with happiness and her heart melts. Before she thought maybe he was missing out on having younger siblings since her and Constantine didn’t have any after him, but seeing him like this, he seemed perfectly content. Maybe Drake was what she hadn’t been able to give him, either way, she was happy that he had someone to lean on when she couldn’t be there.

“What’s this, momma!” Liam runs over to the brick structure before leaning over the side.

“Liam!” Eleanor sprints over there and pulls him back. Her heart beating out of her chest.

“Momma, did I do a bad thing?”

She looks down at him, his bottom lip poked out and trembling as tears pool in his bright blue eyes, “No, sweet boy. You just have to be more careful. You could’ve fell in.”

“I’m sorry Momma!” He throws his arms around her and she pulls him close to her.

“I know, baby.” She kisses the top of his head, “Wanna see what it is now?”

He nods, but keeps his head buried in her chest. She holds him for a little longer before they both stand up.

“This is a wishing well. You come here, make a wish and drop in a coin.”

“Does the wish come true?”

“Legend has it that they do.” She smiles at him as he looks at her with wide eyes.

“Momma, do you have a coin I could borrow?”

Smiling, she pulls two out of her coin purse and places one in his hand, “One for you and one for me.”

“You go first Momma. I want to make sure I do it right.”

Eleanor chuckles before closing her eyes for a moment and then flicks the coin off her thumb and they both watch as it falls down the well.

“You didn’t say your wish, Momma!” Liam whines.

“If you say them aloud, they don’t come true, silly.”

Liam straightens up his posture and holds the coin firm in his hand. He racks his brain, trying to come up with a wish. He could wish that Drake and him would be friends forever. Or that his dad would start treating Olivia better. Then it finally dawned on him what he should wish for and then he gently tosses the coin into the well.

“You want to tell me your wish?” Eleanor teases.

“No, Momma! I want it to come true!” He stomps his foot down, determined for it to come true.

“Okay, okay, sweet boy.” She reaches for his hand, “Let’s head back to the palace.”

* *

The sun shines on his face, the warmth wakes him up as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. His head is heavy and throat sore from his meltdown last night. He rolls over, finally opening his eyes to see red.

“Liv?” Liam is completely confused.

She slowly wakes up, having fallen asleep kneeling by the side of Liam’s bed. Olivia tries to stand up but the stiffness in her knees cause her to stumble; Liam lunges forward, grabbing her arm and pulling her on the bed.

“What were you doing on the floor?”

“I planned on leaving once you fell asleep, but I must’ve been more exhausted than I thought.” She runs her hands through her hair, trying to tame it.

“Uhh,” Liam rubs the back of his neck, “There’s another half of the bed.”

Her face turns red, partially from his comment and the fact that his shirtless. And while she’s seen him shirtless before, she feels more vulnerable in this moment; plus, she knows now is not the time for such thoughts.

“I didn’t want to cause any rumors or cast shade on your reputation.”

“My reputation? How would my reputation look if people found out you slept on my floor?” He chuckles, shaking his head.

“I…Well…I’m sorry.” She drops her head down, completely embarrassed, “Sometimes it gets hard to friends with the king.”

Liam’s face drops, growing up titles didn’t hold much value to them, a title was a title in the eyes of a child. Maxwell, Bertrand, Leo, Madeleine, and Olivia all had titles and they just really shrugged at them. Well maybe not Madeleine. Even the fact Drake and Savannah didn’t have one, never mattered when they were children.

“Oh. I guess I never realized how much my title changed and how that changed our dynamic.” When Liam assumed the role of Crown Prince and then King, he took it in stride. He had never taken the time to think how his personal relationship had been changed.

“No, it’s just…” she sighs, “It’s hard sometimes to walk the line of Liam and the king. With just Liam, staying the night wouldn’t be an issue, we’ve been friends since childhood. But as the king, an unwed king, it’s a huge issue and inappropriate.”

“I’m sorry I put you in a compromised situation, Liv.” He begins to kick himself all over again when his father’s words ring in his mind: Kings don’t express emotions. Kings stay firm and strong. Him telling Olivia he didn’t want to be alone was him allowing his emotions to be in control of him once again.

“Don’t be,” She smiles at him, “Last night you didn’t need to be a king, you needed to be a human. A grieving son mourning the loss of your mother. I understood that.”

He presses his lips to her temple, a gesture he’s done several times before, “Liv, I don’t think I’d be able to function without you.”

She watches him walk to his bathroom suite before she turns her attention to her thoughts. Ever since Liam told her that the deaths of Eleanor and Jackson were faked, she felt she was holding her breath. She wanted to be there for Liam, to stay clear headed, but then last night happened and she learned Eleanor had actually passed.

However, Olivia wasn’t exactly sure what to think, while she didn’t think lowly of Queen Eleanor, she also didn’t hold her in such high regard as Liam did. Most of her childhood, Olivia was made to feel unwanted, like damaged goods and a stain of the fabric of nobility, but Eleanor never treated her that way. She took her in and tried as hard as she could to hold her close to her side, but Constantine would only allow a Nevrakis so close to the throne.

Part of her was almost happy that there was news Eleanor could be alive, she had lost one mother, losing Eleanor hurt just as badly. Though now, that hope was gone and if it crushed her as badly as it had, she couldn’t fathom what Liam felt.

* *

“That’ll be all, Bastien.” Liam nods as Bastien bows and exits his office. It has been a little over two weeks since Liam had finished reading the files; since the night that Olivia had stayed with him through the night.

He thought maybe there was something between them, that their long-lasting childhood friendship would blossom into romance. A Nevrakis as the queen, Liam chuckled at the idea of his father rolling over in his grave. But once the initial haze of events blew over, he realizes that Olivia someone who should stay in his inner circle, not directly by his side. It was his need to cling to something constant, something that reminded him that his childhood wasn’t just a bunch of lies.

Before returning to Lythikos, Olivia expressed her concern and hesitation on him going to Montana to talk to Jackson. She made several points on how she didn’t think he would find the answers he was searching for, that what Jackson told him might not bring him the peace he wanted and that it could even backfire. While he wanted to side with her, to see where her concerns laid, he knew that he had to go. If anything, he needed to put a person to what he’s discovered instead of a fuzzy memory from years ago.

* *

The next week is a long and tiresome game of phone tag between Liam and Drake; between Liam being on a business trip and Drake spending more time at the Walker Ranch, they missed each other’s calls frequently.

It isn’t until Liam has gotten back to the palace that he finally answers the phone when Drake calls.

“I was beginning to think you ghosted me.”

Liam laughs, “I’ll schedule diplomatic matters around your calls from here on out then.”

“How did the trip go?”

He rolls his eyes, “The country’s business part went fine, I gained enough support to pass the bill. It went downhill when my personal business was then discussed.”

“Uh oh. This sounds bad.”

“I was presented suitors. My father was unwed for way longer than three years when my mother…” He stops, he’s not sure what to say. When his mother died? When she ran off?

Drake catches on, “It was like ten years or so wasn’t it? Until he married Regina?”

“Exactly. Three isn’t that long.” Liam shakes his head, annoyed.

“But he did have two heirs,” Drake pauses, “Just saying.”

Liam sighs, “Maybe I’ll just name your child as my heir, get them off my back.”

Drake freezes, “What!? You can’t do that. That’s insane!” He continues rambling until Liam’s laughter causes him to stop.

“I’m kidding, that wouldn’t make any sense. Then what would happen to my first born?” Liam is still laughing, “Plus you hate nobility, there’s no way you’d allow it.”

“And the court says I’m the bad influence.”

“Anyway, the reason I’ve been calling isn’t just to give you a heart attack. I want to come to Montana.”

Drake slowly processes Liam’s words. They had the space to accommodate him staying for a few days and Riley would love to see Liam again, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for the two worlds to collide. He and his dad had just started talking more often and he wasn’t sure he was ready to open that part of his world up to Liam.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I just want to hear Jackson’s side. I have questions too. I have things I want to lay to rest with this whole situation.”

“Yeah, I understand. Does next week work? Just so I have time to tell Dad and Riley.”

“Of course. Just let me know and I’ll have Bastien take care of the arrangements.”

* *

“Everything is in order, sir. Whenever you’re ready, we can leave.”

“Maybe I should stay here.” He lets out a sigh, “I mean what can Jackson really tell me, he’s not my mother.”

“No, but he was a part of her life and does have insight that could help.”

“What if…what if her life was better? Better without me?”

“Sir, I watched Queen Eleanor with you, there’s no world where her life was better without you. Don’t forget that you were everything to her.”

“That used to be easy to remember, nowadays, not so much.”

35 notes · View notes

monsieur-hadrien · 4 years

Text

Quarantine Harry Potter Fanfiction *READING LIST*

I’ve spent the past months reading copious amounts of fanfiction and now my amount of AO3 bookmarks is absurd. I really need to share these because if I don’t I think I might implode. Drarry-centric but not all!

These are in no particular order nor is there a particular time frame that these were all posted. I have a little bit of everything in here just you wait.

On Punching Gods and Absentee Dads by Enigmaris

56 Chapters, 247k Words, Complete, no slash, T Rating

Marvel, Norse Mythology, Harry Potter Crossover

TW: Past Abandonment

Harry finds out that his dad is alive, has been the whole time. Instead of being overjoyed, Harry's disgusted. His dad left earth and abandoned his friends. Every painful thing he's ever gone through can be traced back to one man. Now Harry's got super strength he can't control and an almost unnecessary amount of magical power. His dad might be living it up with the Avengers now but not for long. With the help of his friends, Harry comes up with a plan for revenge. Get ready Avengers, Harry's out to punch a god.

We’re starting off strong with a Marvel crossover fanfic wow. Who knew that crossovers could be done tastefully as 2013 Wattpad kind of ruined it for us. However, this fic changed my mind! This fic is funny as fuck and is just a goodass time. I love a good multi-chapter fic (as you’ll soon see) and this one is a showstopper.

The Man Who Lived by sebastianL

42 Chapters, 254k Words, Complete, Draco/Harry, E Rating

TW: Major Character Death, Graphic Deptictions of Violence

Draco breaks a cup, and one thing leads to another. A story of redemption, tattoos, dreams, mistakes, green eyes, long conversations, and copious amounts of coffee.

With all of the Black Lives Matter protests happening right now, I think that this fic is super relevant. Draco has moved to New York City and is working as a receptionist at a tattoo shop and a mentor for inner city kids, but he accidentally gets forced to work out his differences with Harry, who at this point hates his guts. This fic is pretty serious, tackling themes of mental health, suicide, and police brutality. Every OC in this story is completely lovable and I cried my eyes out many times. When people ask me for a fic reccomendation this is the one I give people. Dare I say that this is my all-time favorite fic.

Warm Bodies by Betty_Hazel

Work in Progress, 37 Chapters as of 6/12/2020, 108k Words, Draco/Harry, E Rating

TW: D/s Dynamics, Graphic Porn, Dubious Relationship with Food

Draco Malfoy has spent his whole life wanting to go down on his knees for other men, and that's by far the least of the depraved things he fantasises about. He's wanted it all for so long that he's stopped believing that there might be someone out there who might be able to give it all to him; it comes as something of a surprise to find that maybe Harry Potter can, and that maybe Harry's looking for something too.

ALRIGHT MY PORN LOVERS THIS ONE IS FOR YOU! Don’t lie I know you’re horny. Somehow this fic is so fucking gorgeous and sweet yet so sinfully hot. It’s literally two boys who have never felt like their emotional needs have been satisfied learning to help and love each other like how much more wholesome does it get. I mean it’s all fine and wholesome until you get to the kinky sex which is WONDERFULLY WRITTEN MIGHT I ADD! I always say that if porn can make you feel something other than just horny, you’ve found a winner, and this story does just that.

Definitely check all the tags and I mean all the tags before you read this, but this is definitely one of my favorite porn with plot stories.

Running On Air by eleventy7

17 Chapters, 75k Words, Complete, Draco/Harry, T Rating

TW: No Archive Warnings

Draco Malfoy has been missing for three years. Harry is assigned the cold case and finds himself slowly falling in love with the memories he collects.

Might I just say that classics are considered classics for a reason. This is one of those stories that has the vibe of high school summer after senior year where all you do is try to escape reality and figure out your place in the world. While the plot is wonderful and the characters are great, I think what shines the brightest from this story is the writing style. It’s so enchanting and poetic with the best one-liners that make your heart hurt. On my AO3 bookmark i captioned it, “This just ripped my soul in half and restitched it together again,” and I still stand by that.

Lokison (Series) and How To Train Your Godling (Series) by sifsshadowheart

Main Story (Lokison): 33 Chapters, 244k Words, Completed, Harry/Various Characters, E Rating

14 Spinoffs/ Sequel Stories, Completed, Harry/Various, Various Ratings

Norse Mythology, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Various Fandoms Crossover

TW: Major Character Death, Graphic Violence, Underage Sex, Spiralling Mental Health

James and Lily Potter had a secret, one which led to Thanatos saving young Harry from a dreary life with the Dursleys and changed the face of the Second British Wizarding War before it ever began.

This story feels much more like a 12 season television show than a two hour movie if you know what I mean. The plot is pretty slow going but the character development and interation makes it worth it. The story blends the lore and events of the HP and PJO to make a completely new story without making it feel like a goddamn recap. The reader follows Harry from when he’s young all the way into adulthood and it’s a fun time to watch him grow as a character and bond with his parental figures. Also some of the spinoffs are really wild and I never would have thought of the pairings but they just work somehow?? My personal favorite spinoff is the Pirates of Caribbean/Calypso and Leo arc like HELLO?! hot pirates. The total word count of the two series is 465k so beware it takes a hot second to chug through this one.

This Worship of an Extinct Fire by Lomonaaeren

Oneshot, 30k Words, Draco/Harry, M Rating

TW: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Deppression

Unspeakable Draco Malfoy has planned for nearly six months how to take down Thomas Linwood, a man who has discovered the secret of converting wizard bodies to pure magic. He was prepared for anything--except the discovery of the missing Harry Potter in Linwood's compound.

This one, I don’t know how it’s not considered a classic. I’ve seen it floating around on drarry tumblr and wow is it good. I especially like the detailed magic system and mechanics that Draco is investigating. How the author managed to have so much detailed and gracefully planned out backstory in 30k words is beyond me. Also gentle Dracoo Malfoy is my favorite Draco Malfoy :) absolute angel mode.

Little Compton Street (One Rainy Night in Soho) by LLAP15 and Writcraft

Oneshot, 66k Words, Draco/Harry, Past Sirius/James, E Rating

TW: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light D/s Dynamics, References to Cancer, References to HIV/AIDS

Draco is lonely, Harry hates the press and it won’t stop raining in London. Harry discovers a magical street that’s close to disappearing forever and Draco realises he’s one rainy night in Soho away from finding everything he’s been searching for.

This fic is, in every sense, a masterpiece. Especially for pride month, the story surrounding LGBTQIA+ activism, the AIDS Epidemic of the 80s, and the gentrification of historically queer communities is one that should be read by everyone. Every single place, OC, and historic event has real world ties and is historically accurate, making this fic even more enchanting. Everything about this fic is graceful and slow burning I can’t help but fall in love with it. I’ve only seen this fic once on HP tumblr, but I feel like it should be considered a classic as it is truly a moving piece. This fic is one of the biggest reasons why I became so enthralled with LGBT history and am writing a fic that takes place in a wizarding version of the AIDS epidemic.

Sensitive Touch by Raserwolf

45 Chapters, 194k Words, Complete, Draco/Harry, E Rating

TW: Racism and Racial Slurs, Homophobic Slurs, Ablism and Ablist Slurs, Rape and Sexual Assault, Sensory Overloads and Mental Breakdowns, Extreme Bullying and Hate Crime, Past Abuse, Anxiety Disorders, PTSD wow this is a long list

When Draco Malfoy encounters a struggling and frustrated Harry desperately trying to tie his shoes after a meltdown in the Great Hall, his curiosity regarding the incident leads him to seek the help of the two people closest to Harry: Ron and Hermione.

After even they are shocked to hear the extent of Harry's issues, though Hermione had her suspicions, he discovers more about the man than he ever thought he knew before.

As a Neurotypical, I found this fic to be absolutely wonderful. I don’t know much about the typical traits of those who are one the autism spectrum and how they affect their everyday lives, but from what I was reading in the comments from those who are on the spectrum or who have family who are, this fic was pretty accurate and realistic. Harry, who lives with aspergers, goes without a known diagnosis until 8th year and it’s just heightened by his PTSD and anxiety and ugh I just want to hug the boy. The story follows Harry and Draco and the rest of the 8th year gang through the year and has multiple arcs in which the wizarding world are just dumbass bitches who can’t fucking seem to accept people for who they are. Not only is Harry on the spectrum but he’s also Desi with a purpose and not just mentioned and forgotten which is wonderful. The boys go through a lot of trauma in the story but there’s also a lot of teeth-rotting fluff that I live for. This is one of the fics that I have read and reread because I love it so much.

This definitely is not my full list I have a ton more stories in my bookmarks if you are curious. I’ll probably post a part two to this just cause I have so much and read so often. These, however, are definitely the biggest highlights.

44 notes · View notes

peterparkerxtrauma · 4 years

Text

studying each other

summary: you like MJ but you’re 94% sure she’s into Peter.

Characters: MJ x Reader, Peter x MJ (unless?)

Warnings: Mentions of studying and exams ew but nothing else

Words: 1806

basically just very fluffy

the large pile of books threaten to spill over the table, taunting you with every tired glance. Learning all the contents becomes more and more unlikely as you realise you’ve been concentrating more on the concept of failing the exam than actually studying. Stress sets in and feeling of despair makes itself at home at the bottom of your stomach. With a heavy sigh, you tip your chair back slightly and stretch, peering around the café and cracking your neck as you decide a short break is very much needed.

The café is quiet, a result of the late hour, the only noises are a couple murmuring a few tables away and what sounds like two workers in the back talking in hushed tones. There is a soft patter of rain tapping on the windows, a calming constant in the background. You draw in a breath, concentrate on chilling out.

“Another one?”, a smooth voice breaks through your thoughts. You focus on MJ in the chair opposite you and raise your eyebrow in question. She gestures to your empty coffee mug and you grin gratefully.

”Would love that, thanks,” you reply to your friend, your attention now on her.

You watch as she takes your mug and hers and makes her way to the counter. Her long hair originally fell in loose waves when you both entered the café earlier that day but 5 hours and three existential crisis’ later, it sticks out of a messy bun, frizzy tendrils hanging out, randomly framing her sharp cheekbones. She blows a piece of hair out of her face and your attention increases, hyperfixated on the pout of her lips as the hair falls back in the same place. You notice the crease between her eyebrows as she blows again, this time fractionally harder and then watch as she sighs, placing the cups in front of her and undoing her hair from its scrunchie.

Your heart rate quickens as she shakes her head, allowing her curls to tumble down onto her shoulders. In front of you stands a beautiful temptress with wild hair and dressed in an ugly Christmas sweater, making her just a little more amazing. Slowly you shake your head and lower your eyes back to your notes that had gotten more unintelligible as the evening went on.

Against your better judgment, you give up trying to decipher what the hell you've written and your eyes flit to your best friends figure once again, only to be met with her thoughtful gaze, her chocolate coloured eyes scrutinizing you. You give a fleeting smile and quickly turn your head back to your work.

After ordering, she saunters back over to the table and collapses in her chair, her hand once again coming up to her hair to tame the mess.

“You look like you’re about to pass out any minute,” she observes quietly, peering at my face. Not in a mean way, just an MJ way, saying things as she sees them.

You shrug your shoulders, “pour the coffee down my throat when I do please, I can’t be sleeping until I’ve at least finished this chapter.” You lean your chin on your hand and your eyes fall on MJs face, momentarily catching your breath, before you focus on the stray hairs that refuse to be tied into the bun.

She reaches over and pats your hand that’s resting on the table and your fingers twitch in want.

“You’re so dramatic,” she jokes, “you should have taken Drama and these meltdown study sessions wouldn’t be so common.”

Although the study dates were something you definitely cherished as it was an excuse to spend hours alone with MJ, you go to agree with her, but before you can reply, your phones buzzes, catching your attention. You read the text and let out a laugh.

“Peter says he’s locked out of the apartment…again”, you inform MJ as she gives you a quizzical look.

MJ raises her eyebrow and takes her hand back from yours to play with the locks of hair by her face, twirling them around and around. Your hand feels wrong without hers and you frown momentarily.

“Vanilla latte and medium Mocha,” the waiter appears by our table and smiles, “have a nice day”. We smile up at him before he leaves. Instantly, you pick up your drink to replace the lost heat in your hand.

“Tell him to meet us here then,” MJ suggests and frowns for a second before taking her drink. The way she wraps both her hands around the mug and brings it up to her face to sip, warms you up as if you were the one drinking it. You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face, she truly is beautiful in all small actions.

An odd sense of disappointment sinks into your stomach. Hanging out with MJ alone was a rarity, especially since Peter moved into yours and MJs flat. Not that there was anything wrong with him being with the two of you, you just missed MJ being yours and yours alone. Especially lately, she’s been acting weird when Peter comes around, causing you to worry that she may be catching feelings for the boy. Every time he enters the room, she repels from you, often leaving him to sit between the two of you like a physical barrier. You guessed it was because she wanted to be closer to him, perhaps prove to him that she definitely doesn't like you so he knows she’s available.

Jealousy stung at your eyes.

”I’ll tell him to now.” You answer eventually and shoot him a quick text, making sure to tell him to take his time getting there, “Want to test each other until he’s back?”.

You and MJ continue to study together, working well as a team, just like you had done in high school, until the door of the café rings, signalling Peters’ arrival.

Peter ambles towards your table, managing to trip on the short walk over, causing MJ to snort and catch your eye.

“Hey guys. Sorry to bug you on your date, I can’t believe I left my keys again. I even left them on the table right next to the door just so I wouldn’t. There’s even a reminder on a post it note on the mirror in the bathroom I put there just last night.” Peter rambles as he sits down between MJ and you and takes your drink to sip from, a bad habit he picked up years ago and seems to be keeping.

MJ looks between you and Peter, eyebrows raised, “nobody is surprised, Peter,” she says, “anyway, let’s pack up and go. If I write down one more word my wrist will definitely never be the same again.”

You take both of your mugs this time and head to the counter to leave them there. You’re only on your feet for a second, but when you turn around, Peter and MJ are laughing together over something you must have missed. It causes an uneasy feeling, the two of them so close and once again, you feel jealous of Peter. You turn back to the counter and mentally scold yourself for allowing yourself to be so selfish. As long as they are happy, you should be too.

Later on, when you’re in your room getting ready for bed, there’s a tentative knock on your bedroom door, which is odd because your flatmates have the tendency to waltz into your room unannounced when it seemed fit to them.

“It’s open!” You call and MJ slips into the room. She seems wary as she sits on your bed and begins tracing the flower patterns on your bedsheet.

“Hey,” she begins, and takes a deep breath before continuing, “I know that it’s not really any of my business but I was just curious because I’ve been seeing some things that mean it but also I could be wrong so I figured to ask and it doesn’t matter really but-“

“Oh my god, MJ, spit it out,” you laugh as you sit beside her on the bed, but alarm bells have started ringing in your ears. Is she on about how you have been seeing her lately? Oh my god, has she noticed you like her?

“Do you like” -oh god- “Peter?”

Wait what?

“Wait, what?” You breathe out.

“I don’t know. I was just wondering… for no reason.” She mumbles and there’s a splash of pink on her cheeks that makes your heart swell.

You nudge up closer to her, “god no, Peter is definitely not what I’m into. Not that there’s anything wrong with him. He’s a swell guy, honestly. He’s just… not what I want,” you say and inwardly cringe at your answer; could you make it anymore obvious?

She furrows her brows and looks you straight into the eyes for the first time since entering the room, “what do you want?”.

Your eyes widen at the straight forwardness and you know that with all her attention on you it will be impossible to lie to her. You bark out a laugh that is way more forced than you intended, “Good question! Um, well, the thing is... Wait. Do you like Peter? Is that why you wanted to know?”

MJ blushes and you feel another spike of jealousy.

“Peter? For me? It’s less likely than you think.” She giggles and it’s absolutely beautiful, a symphony strung together by angels. It’s almost as if you can feel a weight lift off your shoulders and the jealousy whooshes out of you like a cool breeze.

It makes you chuckle, the dismissal of Peter being the butt of the joke, but the laugh dies on your lips as you notice the close proximity of you and MJ. Her curious eyes inches away from your own. It’s too tempting and when she parts her lips slightly, letting out a small breath, you find that you can’t hold back your feelings anymore. In this moment, nothing stands in your way except your own fear and you’ll be damned if you let that stop you from the most extraordinary person you've ever met.

It’s sudden, but your lips meet hers in a rush of bravery. Your heart almost beats out of your chest as your feel her soft lips move against yours. Kissing her feels like everything you had imagined when gazing at her smooth, full lips and more. It’s almost too good and when she eventually pulls away you are breathless. It makes you smile to realise she also seems to be short of breath. Unable to be away from her lips any longer after being so lucky to kiss her a first time, you lean in again and somehow, the second kiss is even more spectacular than the first. You feel tingles begin in your toes and move up your body until it feels like your whole being is alight with this euphoric feeling only MJ can give you.

This time, it’s you that pulls away, much to both of your chagrin. You blush as you stare at her, and you don't think you've ever been so happy.

“So... would you like to go on a date with me? Without Peter and our textbooks?” You ask, unable to tear your eyes from her own starry ones.

MJ laughs, “God, I have been waiting for you to ask me out for the longest time. I would love to,”.

She then leans back in and the both of you smile into the kiss that was much awaited for.

102 notes · View notes

mx-sfthrs · 4 years

Text

minhyuk + his three-year-old daughter

okay it's been a Minute since i wrote for this series but here i go again

SO minhyuk has this 3 yr old little girl

she is indeed his whole world

his moon and stars

so here's the thing . you and him mayhaps among the chaos of everything kind of over scheduled yourselves

but determined not to break any commitments, you guys decide to just take a deep breath and go w it

you guys had been running around w your little girl all day and she'd been so so good the whole time truly an angel

you were very proud of her

so finally, right before dinner the last event was finished

you said your goodbyes and minhyuk noticed that your daughter was looking a little sleepy

"do you want me to carry you to the car sweetheart?"

"no daddy i want to walk"

she was newly independent to a lot of tasks so she had been pretty insistant on doing things on her own lately and he didnt fight it

so he held her hand all the way to the car and got her buckled into her carseat

like 1 minute into the drive home you looked in the rear view mirror and saw your little girl passed tf out

so you turned the radio down and let her sleep, she had been up earlier than usual and wasnt able to have a nap today

once you guys got home you got out to unbuckle her and take her inside

she was a little >:( when you woke her up but she quickly fell asleep as soon as you got her out of her car seat and into your arms

you set her down on the couch so that u and min can make some dinner

"hey baby girl what do you want for dinner?"

she didnt respond so you walked closer and asked again and you got a very disgruntled "i. dont. know!!!!!" in response

you figured she was just tired and hungry so you made a pb&j and asked her to come sit and eat it

she walked over all sulky and huffy

you and min were making dinner for yourselves but you looked over and she hadn't touched her food

"why are you not eating baby?"

she angrily mumbled under her breath

"what'd you say?"

"i said I WANT MILK"

that outburst got minhyuk's attention and you guys looked at each other

you met at the fridge for a quick pow wow

you had both decided to just help her out and give her what she wants since you knew you pushed her today

so you came back with milk and backup (minhyuk)

"is that better? can you eat your sandwich now?"

"no."

minhyuk came and sat on the other side of her to see if he could persuade the little munchkin to eat something, she had to be hungry

"why don't you just eat one bite? can you do that for me?"

"no !!!!! i ! dont ! want ! to !!!!!"

she was never one to shy away from the dramatic (she takes after min) and she pushed her plate away

"hey ...?"

her little head now hung low and she was crying

you started to rub her back and tried to calm her down

but then you suggested that she ate some food to make her feel better and that, apparently, was a mistake

because now she is WAILING like we have entered full tantrum mode people

"nOoOooO!!! NO NO NO I DONT. WANT. IT!!!!"

minhyuk is has always been a comforting person even before your little girl came into your lives

so he immediately knew what to do and jumped into action which thank god because this is one of the biggest meltdowns she's had, she's usually very happy and smiley (also like minhyuk)

"okay baby" he leaned over and picked her up

"okay, it's okay"

he held her against his chest and rocked side to side saying soft and comforting things

she gave in almost immediately and clung around his torso while she cried out her frustrations into his shoulder

once she calmed down to just sniffles minhyuk tried the food pitch one more time

"do you think you can eat your sandwich now? hm?"

she shook her head no against him

"well what about something else? what do you want to eat baby you have to eat something for us"

she mumbled "cheerios" just loud enough for you to hear

while you poured some cheerios into a cup, min walked over to the couch and continued to hold her in his arms

you met them over there w the cheerios as he was pulling up her favorite show on the tv

minhyuk held her and stroked her hair as she slowly munched on her cheerios

you snuggled up to minhyuk as all three of you watched peppa pig

you checked to see how much she'd eaten and she was almost done

minhyuk was periodically checking in too

"do you feel better sweetheart?"

she let out a tiny "yeah"

you kissed her cheek and tickled her belly a little bit

once she finished her cheerios you took her bowl back to the kitchen and started finally making dinner for you and min while he washed her up and got her ready for bed

you finished dinner and set it onto the table before walking into her bedroom and leaning against the door frame as minhyuk finished tucking her in

he turned around and motioned for you to come over

you guys said your goodnights and tucked her in, happy your little girl could finally get some rest and that you guys could eat some dinner

#oof this got long but min is so good w kids #monsta x #minhyuk #fluff #imagine #headcannon

55 notes · View notes

spoookymuulders · 4 years

Text

perchance to dream

read it on ao3 here word count: 17,374 chapter word count: 2,227 summary: With two families dead, the BAU is called to Colorado to try and connect the murders. Something about the deaths seems familiar to Reid, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. And when a familiar face shows up, it throws another cog into the machine, complicating things further. chapter warnings: mentions of murder, kidnapping.

chapter four. those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.

The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams. - Eleanor Roosevelt

Parker’s meltdown completely wipes her out. Fully exhausted now, she lets Spencer lead her back up to her room in the hospital. As he gets her settled into the bed and sinks into a chair beside it, his knee twinges painfully and he winces. Parker, burrowing down into the blanket her mother had brought earlier, notices immediately.

“Are you okay?” She asks, squinting at him. He nods, waving a hand.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” He says, smiling. The suspicious look in her eyes tells him she doesn’t believe him in the slightest, and he shrugs. “I messed up my knee in September. It still bugs me sometimes if I move it the wrong way.”

“What’d you do?” She hums. He debates not telling her, but he knows she’ll keep bugging him until he tells her, and if he doesn’t tell her, she’ll bug Morgan or Prentiss or someone else on the team - Parker is nothing if not persistent.

“I got shot.” He says simply. Parker sits bolt upright, her eyes widening as she does.

“You got shot?!” She repeats, her voice incredulous. Spencer nods, shrugging like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

“I work for the FBI, Parker. People shoot at me all the time.” He tells her. She scoffs a little, shaking her head.

“That doesn’t make it better.” She huffs. Spencer smiles softly, resting his chin in his hand and watching Parker for a few moments. “What?” She asks, squinting at him again.

“I missed you.” He says softly. Parker’s gaze softens a little, and she settles back down in her bed. Reaching out, she brushes a lock of shaggy hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear gently.

“I missed you, too.” She murmurs. Spencer smiles again, brushing Parker’s wrist. “So what happened? When you got shot?” She asks softly. Spencer hums, taking Parker’s hand and brushing his fingers along her palm slowly. He tells her about the case, about Hotch being missing for most of it, and about shoving the doctor out of the way and the unsub shooting him in the leg instead of his intended victim. Parker nods slowly as he finishes his story, watching their hands.

“The guy kept practically begging Doctor Barton to let him die, but he wouldn’t. He’s a good guy.” Spencer says. Parker hums softly.

“Is that why Hotch is all..” Parker searches for the right words for a moment and makes what Spencer is sure is supposed to be an intimidating face. “Mr. Serious?” Spencer grimaces and shakes his head. Parker tips hers curiously, and Spencer sighs.

“Do you remember ever hearing about the Boston Reaper?” Spencer asks. Parker nods, frowning thoughtfully.

“Yeah. It was way messed up - he’d been killing people for years, right? And he killed that girl but left her boyfriend alive in ‘96?” She says. Spencer nods, exhaling softly before continuing.

“Amanda Bertram and George Foyet, yeah. And then he just.. Stopped. The reason he stopped is because the lead detective agreed to shut down the investigation.” He says. He tells her all about Shaunessy’s deal with the Reaper, and about the Reaper offering Hotch the same deal.

“Oh, my God.” Parker says quietly. Spencer nods.

“As it turned out, the Boston Reaper was George Foyet.” He continues, nodding again when Parker’s eyes widen. “Foyet staged his own murder before we realized he was the reaper, and when we finally caught and arrested him, he managed to escape. Back in September, the same day I got shot, Foyet broke into Hotch’s apartment and stabbed him. He brought him to the ER at a local hospital and dropped him off with Morgan’s credentials that he’d stolen.”

“Jesus.” Parker breathes.

“Hotch had to put his wife and his son into protective custody with the witness protection program. It worked for a while, but in November..” Spencer sighs, rubbing the back of his neck absently. “Foyet killed Hotch’s wife. We almost lost Hotch, too, because he got there before any of us and he killed Foyet. He’s been on his own with his son since then.”

“God, that’s horrible.” Parker says softly, shaking her head. She gets it now, truly. Her heart aches dully for the stoic man she met at the precinct. In a way, he reminds her of her own father.

Eric O’Hare had always been tall and intimidating, and that had certainly rubbed off on Parker’s brothers - as well as on Parker herself, a little. Growing up with three older brothers played a key role in Parker being as fearless as she is, but her father teaching her how to properly throw a punch or where to hit someone so their nose breaks played a bigger part. Her mother often called her father a gentle giant, and she gets that same feeling from Hotch.

Tall and intimidating, yes. But kind and gentle at the same time. The earnest concern in his eyes as she’d relayed everything that had happened during her captivity had reminded her of her father, and she’d found herself wanting him to wrap her up in a tight hug and promise that everything would be okay. Spencer continues talking, but Parker finds herself tuning him out as she stares out the window quietly.

****

The computer chimes in front of Hotch and he looks up sharply as Garcia’s face fills the screen.

“Sir, I’ve got something!” She says quickly, and before Hotch can ask. He raises her brows, indicating for her to continue as JJ and Prentiss come to stand on either side of him. Garcia’s fingers fly across her keyboard and a photo of a studious-looking middle-aged man overtakes the screen. “This is Jacob Malloy, he’s an English and drama professor at the Lockwood community college. He fits the profile to a T.”

“What’s his story, Garcia?” Prentiss asks, glancing at her tablet as it chimes. She scrolls through the file Garcia has just sent each of them, humming absently.

“He grew up nearby, his mom was involved in a lot of theater stuff. Dad wasn’t around much but when he was, it wasn’t pretty, that much is certain.” JJ muses, paraphrasing the file in her hands. “If his mom was so into the theater, it explains his obsession with the Shakespearian aspect of all of this.”

“Where is he now, Garcia?” Hotch asks, frowning thoughtfully. Garcia hums, tapping at her keyboard for a moment.

“His last known address was in ‘99.” She says, “I just sent it to your phones.”

Hotch splits the team, telling JJ to stay at the precinct and calling Morgan as he hurries out with Prentiss. He instructs Morgan to meet him and Prentiss at the house and tells Rossi to meet JJ back at the precinct and call Reid. Morgan is at the house by the time Prentiss and Hotch arrive, and the three of them rush in -

Only to find the place empty and long since abandoned. They clear each room quickly and meet back in the room at the front, Hotch digging his phone out of his pocket to call Garcia. He calls JJ next and tells her to have Reid and Parker meet them back at the precinct.

****

Spencer’s cardigan dwarfs Parker’s thin frame as they slip into the precinct, Parker clinging to his hand tightly. Spencer brushes his thumb over Parker’s knuckles slowly, squeezing her fingers gently.

“Did they say why they wanted us to come back?” She asks softly. Spencer nods, glancing down at her as they near the conference room.

“Hotch said they think they’ve found our unsub - for your kidnapping and the murders. He wants you to see if you recognize him.” He tells her gently. Parker stops short in the doorway, looking up at Spencer. He stops beside her, tipping his head and watching her. “Parker, if you don’t think you can handle it-”

“No.” She says quickly, shaking her head resolutely. “If it’ll help stop him from hurting anyone else.. I’ll do it. I have to.” Spencer watches her for a moment, then pulls her closer and presses a kiss to her forehead gently before leading her into the conference room. She trails after him, hovering at the end of the table and nodding once when JJ gives her a gentle smile. She perches in a chair, chewing her lip nervously as JJ taps a few keys on the laptop in front of her. A picture fills the screen and Parker stares at it for a few moments, acutely aware of the seven pairs of eyes on her.

“I don’t - I don’t know.” She says quietly, looking up. “It’s - I never saw his face. I only ever heard him talk.” The picture disappears from the screen, replaced with a paused video.

“I found a video of him doing a monologue.” Garcia’s voice chimes in. Before Parker can open her mouth to say anything else, Penelope plays the video and the voice that’s tormented her for the past twelve years fills the room.

Parker instantly feels her heart jump into her throat. Her fingers curl tightly around the ends of the sweater sleeves in an attempt to keep her hands from shaking - it does little good, because she can feel her entire body beginning to shake now. Her breath is coming in quick, short bursts, and before she comprehends what she’s doing, she reaches out and snaps the computer shut quickly.

Spencer’s voice pushes through the fog of panic clouding her brain, his eyes swimming into focus as he touches her elbow gently.

“Parker, hey.” He says softly, dipping his head to catch her gaze. She looks at him, tears welling in her green eyes.

“It’s him.” She whispers, her voice barely audible. “That’s him.”

Very suddenly, everything is too much. The lights are too bright, the sweater is too scratchy, the noises of the precinct are too loud - even Spencer’s gentle hand on her arm is too much. She jerks out of his grip and jumps to her feet, practically knocking her chair backwards as she hurries out of the conference room. Spencer hurries after her, moving to stand in front of her.

“Parker, hey, breathe.” He says gently. Parker shakes her head quickly, running her hands through her hair anxiously.

“I need - I can’t, Spencer, I need - outside-” She gasps. Spencer nods, but she rebuffs his offer to go with her. “Myself. Please. I’ll stay by the windows-” Before he can argue, Parker steps around him quickly and hurries outside, leaning against the cool glass of the window and putting her face in her hands. She runs her hands through her hair before pushing away from the window and pacing, first towards the door, then the alleyway. As she turns at the end of the building, she feels a pinch in the crook of her neck and swats at it, frowning curiously as the world goes dark.

Spencer watches Parker go, wanting to give her her space but unwilling to let her out of his sight. Her promise that she’ll stay directly in front of the windows at the front of the precinct alleviates his anxiety a little, but not much. As she slips out front and leans against one of the windows, he watches her run her hands through her hair and try to slow her breathing.

It’s understandable, her wanting to be out of the building as soon as possible. The way her breathing had quickened and her eyes had widened when Garcia had pulled up the video had told him she was on the verge of a panic attack, something he knows well.

Morgan calls his name and he inclines his head in that direction, not taking his eyes off of Parker.

“Garcia said his last known address was in ‘99, but it was empty when we checked it out.” Morgan says. Spencer hums thoughtfully, brows furrowing. “What’re you thinkin’, pretty boy?”

“Parker said he kept her in an old mansion out by the woods.” He says, finally glancing away from the window for a moment. “Have Garcia check satellite maps for anything that fits that description. She said it was in a field surrounded by woods.” Morgan nods, and when Spencer looks back to the window, his heart jerks into his throat and he sits up straighter.

Parker’s not there.

He stares out the window for a moment, waiting to see her come back into view - she’d been pacing a moment ago. When she doesn’t, he stands and pushes past deputies and detectives to get to the door. The rapidly cooling evening air stings his cheeks as he shoves the door open and hurries to where Parker had been thirty seconds ago. His heart begins to pound dangerously in his ribs as he turns on his heel.

“Parker?” He calls, moving towards the alley at the end of the building. He’s glad for the lights on the edge of the police station as he moves down the alleyway, eyes roaming anxiously. “Parker!”

A glint on the ground catches his eye and he stops dead in his tracks, stooping to pick up the delicate silver chain lying half in a puddle. The small silver circle with the S hammered into it confirms his worst fear, and he feels his throat constrict for a moment before he leaps to his feet and runs back into the precinct. He stumbles into the conference room, eyes wild, the necklace clutched in his hand like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. Everyone looks up at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Spence?” JJ says, approaching him.

“She’s gone.” He says breathlessly, his voice cracking. “He took her.”

Life is never fair, and perhaps it is a good thing for most of us that it’s not. - Oscar Wilde

#mine*#my writing #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #fic: perchance to dream #i kind of hate this chapter tbhhhhhh BUT I WANTED TO GET IT DONE AND OUT!!!! IT'S BEEN S O L O N G #this one is So Short :(#series: vienna

3 notes · View notes

thebarefootking · 4 years

Text

The Rocket Ship

It's a well-observed fact that the strange ones tend to find one another.

We all have heard of cliques in high school (or even earlier) that, over the course of life, individually discover themselves (and often, then, each other) to be queer, neurodivergent, or some other kind of not-normative. Many of us belonged to them.

This is the story of my friend KV and how we fell into mutual weirdness.

KV and I met for the first time in daycare, just before I aged out at ten years old. They were half a year younger than me, and a grade lower in school. (They, like myself at the time, were not out as nonbinary; I didn't know anyone who used singular they pronouns or who was out as nonbinary, or even what that meant, until I was well into adulthood.)

We were fast friends, possibly because neither of us had bonded particularly well with any of the other kids at daycare. Maybe one or two would acknowledge and chat with us at breakfast, but most of our recreation time was spent just the two of us, playing imaginative games among the playground equipment.

The next year, I aged out of the daycare, and KV aged up into the same middle school I attended. I frequently made time to visit their locker between classes, and we grew closer.

One catalyst for this closeness was a number of musicals we performed in together. The first was a local production of Children of Eden which had open casting for children, and which was being directed by a mutual friend of our families. Both of us were accepted into the production.

As the children's cast for this play was only needed for two scenes or so, there was plenty of time to screw around doing whatever we wanted to do (so long as we were quiet about it). There, one of our playground games solidified into a full-on roleplay of sorts, an unending game in which the two of us took the parts of anthropomorphic cat people sent by a rocket ship from the planet Meowmix in the Eukanuba galaxy, in order to complete a long-term recon mission.

It suited our (to this day undiagnosed, but very much present) autistic traits. What autistic person hasn't at least once felt like a different species, trying to learn the culture and habits of Earth's dominant lifeform? We simply made a canon of it, and developed that canon everywhere.

We even had a secret substitution code, full of words that meant other things. "I'm going to buy a pineapple," they would say, before slipping off to use the restroom.

"I'll keep an eye out for sprinkles," I'd reply, and begin to covertly sweep the area for cops/untrustworthy adults/mall security… for some reason.

It was the sort of game that could truly be an artificial context for anything else.

Mostly, though, it tended to be an artificial context for our profound isolation and loneliness, even if we never dared break character long enough to say so to one another. If our alien characters talked about being misunderstood and missing home, it meant we never had to admit to being estranged from our cohort. I, for my part, didn't even admit to myself what emotions we were loading off onto our game.

Besides, our 'Cat-Human' counterparts had something we did not, when it came to that topic: hope of a return to 'normalcy'.

I could write for hours about our game, and all the fun and weird things we got up to. (For a while, our thing was giving individual nickels [which we called 'engravings of Thomas Jefferson'] to random mall-goers, just for the thrill of human interaction, and to see how they would react. Once, one dude gave us an 'engraving of George Washington' in return, for a profit of 20 cents!)

Instead, though, I'll tell you about the ostensible end of the game.

It was another play we were in together, some two years after the first. Both of us had tried out for middle school 'children's' roles in the high school's yearly musical, and gotten our parts. Mine was a major speaking role; theirs was a chorus part. Even so, I still had few enough scenes that we had time to play in between.

Things went pear-shaped, though, in a way I didn't expect. On the first night of the show, KV was dealing with unexpected and intense stage-fright. I walked onto the backstage floor from the back entrance, and half a dozen other kid actors were surrounding them, trying to talk them down from what I now know was either a panic attack or an autistic meltdown. (Maybe both! Hell knows I sometimes can't tell the difference in my own.)

I told all the other actors to back off and give them some space, and then I moved in to check on them. They were speaking rapidly and almost incoherently about there being too many humans in the audience, and how they weren't ready to be seen. They were talking to me as if still in the game.

And I, twelve-year-old that I was, and in an empathic panic on their account, didn't understand.

I didn't know that they were communicating their emotions about the impending performance in the only way they knew how (that being, through the game we had both used for so long to frame our emotions). I thought they were confusing the game with reality. I thought that they were legitimately convinced they were a humanoid cat alien and that the Earthling audience was dangerous.

And with about twenty seconds to go before our scene, I was pissed. They picked now to play a stupid game?

I snapped on them. "It's not real, KV. You're not a freaking cat person. You're a human, and you already committed to doing this show. No one here is dangerous. There's just you, and you've done plays with a way bigger audience than this, before."

I didn't stop to think that this role was much more intricate than most they had performed before. Or that it was much closer to home, with their father leading the pit orchestra below, and likely with their entire extended family watching. Or any of the other reasons they might have had on this particular night that I couldn't know about. It didn't even occur that I was taking away their last support in the face of sheer panic.

In my opinion at the time, they were just being childish. And I let them know it, as viciously as I could manage in fifteen seconds. Then I pushed them into the lineup, went to my own spot, and seethed.

Really, I thought, how dare they try to use our game as a way to avoid responsibility?

We didn't talk much for a while after that.

Thankfully, it was a short while, and -- somehow; I have no idea how -- we eventually came up with a new game. Somehow -- I have no idea how -- we fell into a solid friendship again, if a slightly more formal one.

After all, we had to hold the fort; both of us were the topic of bitter rumours, usually about our sexualities and what we did with them. (Oddly, despite us both being rumoured to be lesbians, no one ever rumoured that we were together. I suspected it was because of the class year difference, but it's more likely because we each had closer friends that filled the rumour role better.)

At any rate, things moved along, all the way past my graduation from high school. Even then, I frequented the school football games, just to hang around the band, in which they played the saxophone. (This irritated KV’s father, the band director, to no end! haha)

And one night, at a house party one of our mutual friends was hosting, they verbally pulled me aside. We moved to an out-of-the-way porch swing in a darkened corner of the yard. For a while, we just played catch-up; there had been something of a lull in our friendship, just on account of scheduling. And then,

"There’s something I wanted to tell you. I'm a lesbian."

We were both silent for a moment.

"I know," I eventually admitted. Because I did; there had been too many hints for too long. Even beyond just rumour.

This, in retrospect, was a fucking shitty way to respond, but they took it in stride. After another silence, they prodded me further. "And what do you think about that?"

"I think it's a sin. But I still care about you, and this doesn't change my opinion of you."

Again, a shitty thing to say.

"Well," they said. "It's just... how I am."

I really can't overstate how unfailingly kind and polite they were to me, when I very much did not deserve it. Maybe they were trying to salvage the friendship. I don't know for sure. For my part, I just assumed that being gay meant you weren't trying hard enough. After all, I was attracted to girls, too, and I wasn't gay. Right?

Not that I said that to them. We didn't really hang out much after that, and they soon moved away for college.

College, and then the subsequent year and a half spent living away from my family, had an enormous impact on my views toward many things, but sexuality in particular. Eventually, I was able to apologise, some time after I got kicked out of my parents' house for coming out as bisexual. (Surprise!) We discovered at that point that we had both drifted away from Christianity in favor of eclectic paganism.

We've been oddly in step, that way.

When I told them recently that I was nonbinary, they told me that they were as well. Later, when they came to town, we got Mexican food and had a long talk, during which we discovered that we are both neurodivergent, and in some extremely similar ways… which caused us both to drop out of college.

We each finally got a cat, which we'd both been wanting for years.

Halfway through lunch, KV said one of the most weirdly intimate things I've ever had said to me: "If there was anyone on Earth I was drift-compatible with, it'd be you."

It was blown away for a second or so; that's like admitting to a form of soulmatedom. But then… I got it, y'know?

Because, honestly, there's no one I've been more understood by than them, even if we sometimes had to create a new language to make it happen.

I wish I got to see them more frequently. I feel like I can appreciate them now in a way I didn't know how to before. I haven't been the best friend to them; in fact, I've been downright abhorrent at times. But I think I can make it up, now.

#a year of writing #03102020 #homophobia #biphobia #internalised biphobia #antiautistic ableism #actuallyautistic #long post #in which lauren is NOT the hero of the story >_>

11 notes · View notes