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loyally-unfaithful · 4 years

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—; even if i am fooling myself, my feelings are true . (1)

word count: 811

pairing: origami cyclone | ivan karelin / gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

summary: even if he was lying to you by pretending to be your lover, he told himself it was worth it. it made you happy. it helped you. he’s helping you. this ruse is only done in good faith.

if it were to make you smile, if it were to help you brighten up, then all his lies and deceptions could be forgiven, he rationalised.

a/n: initially, this was supposed to be a simple hurt/comfort one shot with ivan, but because i never do anything in moderation this had ended up being over 10k words and so i thought that i might as well break it up into a multi-chap fic for ease of reading

i haven't written an actual fic in literally a year so i hope this is ok kasdjfk

« something on your mind, my love? »

your partner asked you, noticing that you were trying to conceal your own smile. barely missing their question as you concentrated on your own footsteps, you hesitantly lifted your gaze off of the floor and faced your partner’s inquisitive face. no longer hidden, they could finally see your lovely smile grow grander as your eyes met. with a soft voice that they found equally pleasant to the expression you wore, you replied:

« it’s nothing, just… you look away sheepishly. i guess, you faced them once more, i just didn’t expect you’d still be here. visiting me, and helping me, and stuff… your partner pressed their lips in a thin line. – that—their voice cracked—i really truly am sorry for not being able to come soone— – i’m not mad, you know? you quickly corrected yourself. i’m really happy that you’re here. »

as you said that, a grateful smile graced your features. it may have been infectious as your partner soon found themselves mirroring your expression.

« of course: i’ll always be here for you. »

they wonder how you always manage to captivate them, how the way you smile made your features soften, how, despite everything, your eyes always seemed to be brimming with life, shining with a brilliance that never ceased to mesmerise them.

they shifted their attention to where your hands rested. intertwined with their own. they found that they rather liked how your hands fitted with theirs. your hold would tighten and loosen every so often as you relearned how to walk, and they found that the warmth from such a contact comforted them.

your partner smiled absentmindedly.

taking the silence as a cue, you shifted your attention back to the floor. they were about to leave you back to your musing and allow you to concentrate in the comfortable silence, but it seemed like gravity—and your own joints—had different ideas as your legs buckled under you, causing you to trip with a small yelp.

reflexes allowing them to quickly jump into action, your partner adjusted their hold to catch and steady you before you fell. shakily, you slowly pulled yourself back up, hissing slightly as pain shot up your legs.

« now i’m really glad you’re here, otherwise i would’ve made out with the floor. you joked between winces. »

were it not for the tightness of your grip on them, your partner would find your reaction to be worryingly blasé as they fret over your general well being. « are you okay ? – i’ll live ! ». however, before they could continue giving you a once over, they heard a sound that is all too familiar to them: a telltale beeping which could only mean that agnes was about to inform them that some incident had arisen and that she required their presence.

your partner quickly removed their hands from you to cover their wristband « bonjour her— » just in time to muffle agnes. your partner winced slightly, hoping you didn’t hear the notification. the sudden movement nearly made you stumble once more, but thankfully enough, you brushed it off and simply peered at them in confusion. you kept watching them, your expression a silent question your partner knew they couldn’t answer. it became unbearably clear that the comfort they derived from your gaze suddenly became the source of a previously ignored anxiety. it filled them with a sudden nervousness which made their hands shake and their skin cold and clammy.

the both of you remained at a standstill as your partner tried to find an excuse while you waited for them to elaborate for their sudden alarmed demeanor.

their uneasiness must’ve been noticeable as you decided to break the silence and voice your concern: « taylor, are you ok? is everything alright? »

‘keep it together.’ they thought. ‘don’t mess up now, ivan.’

« y-yeah, i’m… it’s nothing, don’t worry... »

“taylor” took a few hesitant step back before continuing: « hey, u-um, look… something came up and i’ve got to dash… think you’ll be alright without me, love? » his attempt to make light of the situation only gave him an uncertain « uhuh. » from your part. he wanted to continue to apologise to you, but time was running short and it wouldn’t do any good if you saw his communicator. the hero just hopes his own apprehension to leaving you conveyed how sorry he was.

as he was about to run off, you called out to him: « stay safe at work, ok? ivan can’t help but feel like there was something else behind your plain well wishes; something he can’t decipher, but he tried not to linger on that thought for too long. – i’ll be careful! he glanced back and caught your piercing eyes. were they always like that? i’ll come visit as soon as i can alright? »

ivan tells himself that he’ll come clean the next time he sees you.

a/n: ehe, so yes, ivan is impersonating reader's ex... "taylor"... i made their name, and general identity, be ambiguous. i'm not here to assume anyone's romantic orientation.

also, kinda slow-ish start...? the ivan x reader stuff picks up by chap 2-ish?

LIKE MY WORK? CONSIDER BUYING ME A COFFEE // CHECKING OUT MY MASTERLIST | LINKS CAN BE FOUND ON MY DESC

#tiger & bunny #tiger and bunny #ivan karelin #origami cyclone #ivan karelin x reader #origami cyclone x reader #falselywrites #i havent written a self insert in literal years #hope its ok

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morrisondauthor · 5 years

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“Behind the Platform”

I remember a time when I enjoyed doing a photoshoot with Jamal. We’d smile and have fun while the photographer snapped shots of us and the mood would be so genuine. After the photoshoot, we’d go back home and have sex like two wild animals. Hell, there were times where we couldn’t even make it home and we’d have to get it on in the back of his Chevrolet Tahoe. I truly missed those moments. Now, five years into our relationship, I constantly found myself wondering if being with him was still worth it.

“Turn your head toward me,” the photographer directed as he got in position to take another shot.

I turned my head towards him while facing the wall and he snapped a few shots of me. When I looked up and saw the way Jamal was watching me from across the room, a shiver ran up my spine. I could tell he was still angry because of the argument we had the night before. He hadn’t said a word to me that morning but every time he stared at me; I could feel his anger. When the time came for him to join me, he finally spoke to me.

“I wanna do a separate shoot, Corey,” he told me as he took his shirt off. “I’m not really in the mood to do that lame ass couple shit.”

“Lame ass couple shit?” I asked. “You really are on some other shit today. We’re supposed to send in solo pics and pics of us together. They’re not gonna pick us for the ad if we don’t.”

“So?”

“Jamal…”

“Can you go the fuck on already? You’re done.”

“This little pissy attitude of yours is really getting old. I can’t believe you’re this mad because I used the last bit of laundry detergent last night. It is not that damn serious. All you had to do was take your ass down to the store and buy some more.”

Me (Corey McMillan)

“It ain’t even about that.”

“Oh, what the fuck ever, Jamal. I’ve had it with you picking petty shit to argue with me over. And I’m tired of defending your stank ass attitude whenever my friends are visiting.”

“Fuck your bitch ass friends. All they do is talk shit and eat my food and junk up my apartment.”

“Your apartment?!”

“Yes! I pay most of the bills up in that mothafucka! You’ve had it with me, huh? I’ve been had it with your sorry ass! Now get the fuck out my way!” He pushed me out of the way so that he could begin his session with the photographer.

Jamal Grant

Everyone working around the room was staring at me and I was so embarrassed. It was the first time we’d had an argument in front of strangers. The fact that he could talk to me like that in public had me on the verge of crying. It’s one thing to talk to me like that when we were at home, but it’s another to do it while we were at a photoshoot to promote our brand. It was like professionalism meant nothing to him anymore. I was beginning to believe nothing, including me, meant anything to him anymore.

My relationship with Jamal began during our senior year of high school. We’d known each other since ninth grade but it wasn’t until our last year at Braxton-Jacobs High that we noticed each other. Things moved very fast between us and after we graduated, he came out to his parents. They didn’t accept him and threw him out of their home. My parents wouldn’t let him come live with us so I turned down the chance to go to a local university and left with Jamal. He had a cousin living in Los Angeles so we traveled all the way to the other side of the country. While living with his cousin, we began vlogging on YouTube and that was the beginning of it all.

Our YouTube channel, JCGrantENT, grew into a pretty big business venture for us. We got all kinds of endorsements and had millions of subscribers as well as large followings on several social media accounts. The thing I loved about it the most was that we had a platform to promote being black and gay in America. We had a voice and influence in things that mattered and no price could be put on something that valuable. It was so sad that after building such a platform, we’d reduced ourselves to pretending to still be happy. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time we actually were happy.

“Don’t forget the damn detergent,” he snapped at me as I was getting out of his Tahoe at the grocery store. He handed me the debit card in a rude manner without even looking at me.

I snatched the card from him and asked, “Do you want anything else?”

“We’re low on Red Bull and get me some Hot & Spicy Cheez-Its.”

I slammed the door and headed into the store. After putting the laundry detergent, Red Bull and a box of Hot & Spicy Cheez-Its in the shopping cart, I headed over to the restrooms because I had to pee. I left the shopping cart by the water fountain and hurried into the men’s room. When I got in there and saw my fitness trainer Kevonte taking a selfie, I called out, “Hey, Kevonte.”

He looked at me and smiled as he said, “Wassup, Corey.”

Kevonte

“Wow, this is my first time seeing you outside of the gym.”

“Yeah, I know. How are you?”

“I’m good. You?”

“Same. I’m supposed to be picking up a few things but thought I’d come in here and take a pic for the Gram since I’m in a mood.”

I laughed and said, “I feel you.”

“See you around.”

“Alright, later.” After I watched him leave, I went over to a urinal and relieved myself. I then washed my hands and when I headed out of the bathroom, I was surprised to see Kevonte standing by my cart. “I thought you were going to pick up the items you needed?”

“I am but I was hoping we could talk while I did that. I see you already got your stuff.”

“I still gotta get some bananas.” I began pushing the cart and he walked alongside me. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Well, you haven’t been at the gym in a couple of weeks. Everything alright with you?”

“Yeah, everything is fine.”

“Are you and your dude still having problems?”

“Um…not really.”

“That’s good. I don’t see how anybody could be mad at you for a long time anyway.”

I blushed and rolled my eyes as we made it to the produce section. I grabbed two bunches of bananas and put them in the shopping cart before asking him, “Will you be working with anyone else tomorrow?”

“Nope, I’m free tomorrow. You wanna get in a good workout?”

“I sure do.”

“Cool, I’ll think of some good routines to put together for you. I hope you’re ready to put in some work. You know how intense I like to get with it.”

“Oh, I know.”

“You know what?” Jamal asked, popping up out of nowhere.

“Baby, what are you doing in here?” I asked. “I got everything and I’m about to go to the register.”

He put his finger in Kevonte’s face and asked, “Who the fuck is this nigga?”

“Whoa, get your finger out my face, bruh,” Kevonte said as he pushed Jamal’s hand away.

“I know you didn’t just put your hands on me!”

“Jamal, stop!”

“You might be taller than me but I will fuck you up, my nigga.”

“Jamal!”

Kevonte took off his backpack and told me, “You better get your lil’ man, Corey. Because I ain’t the one.”

“I ain’t the one either, nigga! What the fuck is good?”

I put the shopping cart in between them and pushed Jamal back while telling him, “You are making yourself look so fucking stupid! Kevonte is my gym trainer!”

“I heard what y’all were just talking about. He said something about doing routines and getting intense. Corey, if you’re fuckin’ this nigga I swear…”

“My dude, I got a girlfriend,” Kevonte snapped. “I am straight. You really need to chill.” He gave me a look and asked, “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Man, you need to fuckin’ walk away,” Jamal said to him. “Asking my boyfriend if he’s gonna be okay. I’m really about to lay hands on your bitch ass!”

“I’ll be fine,” I told Kevonte. “I’m really sorry about this.”

He gave Jamal a look and Jamal stared back at him until he began to walk away. Once he was gone, Jamal looked at me and said, “Go pay for this shit and then bring your dumb ass outside. Had me out in the car waiting forever on your ass!”

He continued to talk out loud as he walked away from me and everyone near me stared. For the second time that day, I felt so embarrassed. I paid for our items and as I walked back out to his truck, I prayed that he would just drop it and go back to not saying anything to me. I was so afraid of one of us saying something that we couldn’t take back. We were halfway home when he decided to break his silence.

“Did he fuck you?” he asked while keeping his eyes on the road.

“I’m not even answering that,” I replied. “Because you’re not going to believe anything I say anyway.”

“Corey, just be honest with me. Has he ever fucked you or did you give him head or anything?”

“Jamal, he is straight.”

“But you’re attracted to him, right?”

“No!”

“You never mentioned that nigga to me.”

“Because we never talk like that anymore. I try to tell you things and you just tune me out. Jamal, I’m really fed up today. Just leave me alone.”

“You’re fed up? I’m tired of your bullshit, too. I’m tired of your friends always coming over and I’m tired of your bitching! Now, you got some nigga about to fight me up in the damn grocery store!”

“Oh my God! You’re the one who came in trippin’ when I told you he’s just my gym trainer!”

“A gym trainer you never told me about! Is he really even a gym trainer?” He stopped at a red light and waited for me to say something but when I didn’t, he shook his head and said, “You know what, fuck you.”

The moment he said that to me, I realized that he wasn’t the same Jamal Grant that I fell in love with back in high school. That person simply did not exist anymore. The way he said it was so blasé as if he just didn’t care how I would take it. On the rest of the ride home, I didn’t say another word to him. I was so upset that I felt like crying but I kept it all inside. We made it home and I hopped out of his truck and hurried inside our apartment building. I went up to our apartment and into the kitchen and made myself a glass of ice water. When he came in with the grocery bags, something just snapped inside me.

“You need to pack some of your stuff and leave for a day or two,” I told him.

He looked at me and responded, “I pay half the rent in here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re the one with the problem so you should remove yourself from the situation, Jamal. I’m not going to sit here and allow you to talk to me that way. I am an adult just like you are and that means we discuss things in a civil manner. I understand you’re jealous…”

“Jealous?” He smirked and said, “I ain’t jealous of any damn thing. That overgrown ass nigga ain’t shit for me to be jealous over.”

“You pose for pictures and laugh it up with so many other guys yet you can’t stand for me to have a conversation with my gym trainer in a grocery store? You are so wrong. And then you have the audacity to talk to me like some random guy off the streets.”

“Corey…”

“Pack some of your shit right now and go stay with one of your friends. Do you need me to call one of them and ask if it’s okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Corey. You might as well get over yourself.” He placed the grocery bags and detergent on the counter before telling me, “Put that stuff up. I gotta go take a piss.”

He left the kitchen and ran upstairs and after I took the few groceries out of the bag and put them away, I went upstairs and into our bathroom. He was at the sink washing his hands so when he looked up into the mirror and saw me standing there, I told him, “I can pack some stuff for you.”

“I already told you I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not either. You’re not getting me out of here so you can bring that punk bitch up in here and you’re not going to go stay with him.”

“See, this is why I don’t tell your insecure ass anything.”

“I’m insecure now?”

“You’ve always been insecure. But I make excuses for your insecurities and I have to stop doing that.”

He laughed a little and asked, “You really are on some shit today, aren’t you?”

“I’m not the one acting like a child today. I’m serious, Jamal. I want you to leave.”

“You say that now and then like thirty minutes later you’re gonna want to do a prank video for YouTube.”

“I guess I’m going to have to prove how serious I am.”

I left the bathroom and went into our bedroom. I pulled one of his luggage bags from his side of our closet and opened it on the floor. When I began snatching some of his clothes down and dropping them into the bag, he pushed me deeper into the closet and shouted, “Don’t touch my fucking clothes! See, there you go playing and shit!”

“I’m not playing with you, Jamal! Get your shit and get the fuck out!”

I stood there and waited for him to pull some of his own clothes down but when he didn’t, I bent down and grabbed a pair of his shoes. He knocked them out of my hand and when I tried to get him out of my way, he punched me. And it wasn’t a light punch or a little smack; he punched me in my mouth with his fist closed as hard as he could. Immediately, the look on his face changed and tears filled his eyes. I was in shock for about a second but the moment I tasted blood; I went crazy on him. I lost count of how many times I hit him back. I kneed him in the balls and when he went down, I ran out of that closet as fast as I could. He was right behind me though and almost caught me as I ran into the bathroom and locked the door.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he said through sobs as he knocked on the door. “Corey, please open the door. I swear to God I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Fuck you, Jamal!” I shouted. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw how busted my lip was. I began crying as I screamed, “You motherfucker!”

“Oh my God, baby. I fucked up. I didn’t mean to do that shit. Come out here and hit me as hard as you want to and I promise I won’t do that shit again. Baby, please!”

I reached into my pocket to grab my phone but realized it wasn’t there. I’d left it downstairs on the kitchen counter. As angry as I was with him, I was angrier with myself. I let it get to that point instead of calling one of my friends or his friends to help diffuse our argument or help one of us leave the apartment before it went too far. Still, he crossed a line when he punched me. I just never expected him to ever do something like that to me.

“Corey, please just come out and let me know you’re alright. Don’t go silent on me, baby. I love you so much and you know I would never do some shit like that to you on purpose. I just…I got so mad. It’s all my fault and I promise you I will make it up to you somehow.”

“You can’t.”

“What? What did you say, baby?”

“I said you can’t, Jamal. You can’t make this up to me and you…” I got choked up but continued, “I really need you to go for a walk or a drive right now.”

“I’ll do anything. How long do you want me to go?”

“Go away for two hours. I need like two hours.”

“And you’ll be here when I get back?”

I almost broke down as I lied, “Yeah. I’ll be here, baby.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go downstairs and get some ice for my eye and then I’m gonna go for a drive. I love you, Corey. I love you.”

He waited for me to say it back but after a little while, he gave up and I heard him go downstairs. I listened closely as he moved around in the kitchen and when I heard the front door open and close, I unlocked the door and left the bathroom. I went downstairs and made sure he was gone before I ran back upstairs and packed some clothes and essential items I’d need. I randomly chose a friend in my phone and called to ask if I could stay with her for a little while. She told me I could and I caught a Lyft to her place. That night, I sent a long text to Jamal telling him that we were over and that I’d be back to get my things soon. I then blocked him before he could respond to the text.

“Those boxes are going to storage,” I told the movers as I pointed to the boxes. “Please be careful with them.”

“Yes, sir,” said one of the movers.

“You don’t have to put some of your stuff in storage, Corey,” my friend Nick said to me. “I have enough room for it.”

“Nope. I am only staying with you and Darnell until I can save up enough money to get my own place. That shouldn’t take me long. I’ve already withdrawn my half of the money from me and Jamal’s joint account so it won’t take much added to it to have enough to get my own place.”

“I still can’t believe it’s over between you two. I mean; damn, y’all were together before you even moved out here from back east.”

“I’d been having doubts, Nick. We’d been arguing more and more and when he did what he did…I just didn’t have any option other than this.”

“You’re stronger than me. If Darnell ever hit me, I’d still stay with him with my low self-esteem ass.”

I laughed a little and said, “Darnell would never hit you though. He has too much respect for you to ever do that.”

“Unlike me, huh?” Jamal asked as he entered the apartment.

“You told me you weren’t going to be here, Jamal. I’m calling the police.”

“Baby, wait. I’m not here to hurt you. I just needed to see you in person. It feels like it’s been forever.”

“It’s only been two weeks.”

“That is an eternity when it means being away from you. Please, I really need to say some things to you that I probably won’t get to say after you leave this apartment. Can we have a moment alone?”

“Nope, whatever you have to say will have to be said in front of Nick and these movers walking around in here.”

“Okay, I can do that.” He moved closer to me and looked into my eyes as he began, “Corey, I apologize for putting my hands on you. I honestly don’t know what got into me and I have already signed up for counseling. We can put JCGrantENT on pause while we work through this. I can sleep down here on the sofa. I won’t go to any parties or hang out with my boys and I’ll do anything you need me to do. You are my everything, Corey.”

“Are you done?”

Tears rushed to his eyes as he pleaded, “Baby, please take some time to think about this. You know you’re all I have. You were there when my family threw me out. I don’t have anybody else and you know that. Now, I take full responsibility for everything. I know I have work to do and I am going to do it and I know one day I’ll be the man you fell in love with again.” He waited for me to say something but I just looked at him. As if I’d just punched him in his chest, he began breathing heavily as his tears rolled down his face. He placed his hand on his chest and managed to say, “You’re looking at me like this is the last time we’re going to see each other.”

“That’s because it probably is. I have spent the last two weeks trying to come up with a reason to stay with you and…it shouldn’t be that hard. I love you; I know that much. I miss the way things were between us. But baby, there is a disconnection between us and it happened when we were in your truck that day and you told me, ‘fuck you.’ For those words to even leave your mouth the way they did was enough for me to know you lost whatever amount of respect you had left for me. It was that lack of respect that told you it was okay to punch me in my mouth.”

“But Corey…”

“No.” I tried to fight back my tears but once again, the tears won. They streamed down my face as I stared into his eyes and told him, “I would rather be alone than give you another chance. You’re simply not worth it. And I’m not saying that to break you, I’m saying it because it’s the truth and I’ve always kept it real with you. I left my family to move out here and start this life with you. That was your chance, Jamal! That was the opportunity I gave you! It was the only one I was ever willing to give you.”

“What about our platform? Huh? What about the young black gay men who look up to us? We work for foundations that raise money for all kinds of causes. This relationship is bigger than just us, Corey.”

“We’ve been lying to all of our fans and everyone else for a while now. We pretend to be happy for social media and I can’t even remember the last time I actually laughed with you or did a damn prank video that was real and not staged! It’s time for some honesty.”

“And what about our future? We were supposed to get married and you were gonna change your name to Corey McMillan-Grant and…”

“It’s over, Jamal. It’s really over. I think it’s good that you’re going to talk to a counselor and I wish you well, but I love and respect myself too much to be someone’s mental and physical punching bag. It doesn’t matter that you believe you’ll never do it again. The only way to make sure it never happens again is for me to leave you and that’s what I’m doing.”

I was still very angry with him but I felt his pain so I didn’t want to make it worse for him. I gave him a hug and I kissed his cheek and that was what broke him. I honestly did it to comfort him before I left but he took it another way and he cried harder than I’d ever seen him cry before. He went upstairs to the bedroom we used to share and I could still hear him crying as I made sure all of my belongings had been moved from the living room to the moving truck. I actually felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders as I rode away from the building in Nick’s car.

That night, I posted videos on each account we used to let our followers know that JCGrantENT was over and that I was sorry for not being able to provide a positive example for those who looked to us for guidance, comfort and even a safe place to share their thoughts and stories. I thanked them for their support and I was very careful not to go into detail about what happened because I did not want to hurt any future business opportunities for Jamal. After saying everything I needed to say, I called it a night and climbed into bed in Nick and Darnell’s guest room.

I was just about to drift off to sleep when my phone vibrated. I unlocked it to see it was because I’d gotten a notification from Instagram. One of my closest friends from home had posted a pic of me and Jamal from our senior prom night and had tagged me in it. I laughed a little to myself as I said quietly, “End of an era.”

[Disclaimer]: Pictures used do not reflect the sexuality or personality of people in the pictures. They only serve as visual examples of the characters.

#D.A. Morrison #short story #drama #love #YouTube #social media #social media famous #mistakes #arguments #fights #violence #domestic violence #break-up #breakup #walking away #black lgbt #lgbt fiction #fiction #tw

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j-elaine-hyde · 4 years

Text

The Bean Chronicles: Part 7

Henry Cavill / Reader / Chris Evans

You spent the entire day wrapped up in a blanket on the sofa, reading every headline and tabloid story about your new castle with Prince Charming. It was the obvious choice, but they took your sweet lament and twisted it into a dig. “A source close to the couple...” was cited as saying you were a runaway bride and now a heartbreaker, a two timer, and the destroyer of friendships.

Everything was blamed on you. But it’s honestly how you felt anyway. You didn’t need the celebrity gossip columns telling you. Pictures of chummy Henry and Chris were posted next to pictures of you and Chris, smiling happy, seemingly perfect. The only pictures they had of you and Henry were of the two of you shielding yourselves and rushing to the car. The whole thing was twisted, facts were missing, and you were the only bad guy.

Seeing the pictures of them together almost hurt more than the pictures of you and Chris. No one knew about Bean. No one knew you had met Henry first. No one knew that Chris moved you out of his house via moving company after a fight with no warning. It didn’t excuse or justify how it all happened, but no one cared that life isn’t purely black and white. And they were taking his side.

“Darling you have to quit reading that bullshit.” Henry came in and took the iPad from you, placing it on the coffee table.

You glared up at him, pouting that you had been caught.

“I need the punishment. I deserve it.”

Henry scoffed as he shook his head, “Come here my little masochist.” He patted his knee.

You shed your blanket and perched on his lap, snuggling close, breathing in his scent.

“You know thats all bullshit. It’s not the whole story. We all played equal parts and did the best we could in the situation, which they know nothing of.” He rubbed your arm, which would normally soothe you, but now it just made it worse.

“They’re not wrong Hen... I am the bad guy. I broke Chris’s heart and ruined your friendship....”

Henry sighed heavily, “And what about everything that was done to you my love? Hmmm? Honestly I don’t even want you to think about that. But you’ve been through an awful lot, and it’s not your fault. I might have lost my friendship with him, but I’m happily with the love of my life who is now my best friend... They can twist what they know however they want. But soon enough they’ll move on, and we’ll always know what actually happened. Unfortunately whether we want to or not.”

Ashley walked in, almost dropping the things in her arms. “There’s a ton of paparazzi outside...”

“We know.” Henry grumbled.

She came into the room and sat her stuff down before plopping onto the sofa. “You doing ok?”

You gave her an unconvincing nod, your face giving you away. “I’ll be fine.”

“You better hold on to her Cavill. She’s got that imma say something face and your street is filled with the wrong people to hear what she’s gotta say....” Ash gave him a look letting him know she was serious.

Henry scowled, but held on to you. “You know you can’t do that, right?”

“Why can’t I?” You jerked your head around giving him a look that said ‘try me’.

“Nope!” Henry slung you over his shoulder and walked down the hallway with you to the bedroom, as you laughed the entire way.

The next morning you were drinking your coffee and peering out the blinds at the mass of paparazzi still posted up outside the house.

“Don’t even think about it, my love. We talked about this....”

You were so dazed while looking out the window you hadn’t noticed Henry standing beside you.

“I’m not going to. But I do have to leave today to go meet the designer at the house. So that’ll be fun.”

“You’re not driving, are you? We can call for a car.”

You turned away from the window, “Ash already did.”

You were in the backseat of the blacked out SUV watching as the camera flashes tried to capture a picture of you for their next story.

You managed to arrive safely at the new house and were blown away by the work the designers had already accomplished. You were still excited but somehow it felt like this new start, safe space, had been violated.

You walked onto the balcony off of the master bedroom to take in the view. It was only a few moments later that you heard that all too familiar sound. Feeling anxious you turned around and went back inside.

“We’ve gotta go.” You brushed passed Ashley straight into the garage. She climbed into the backseat with you, shutting the door behind her. “Should I sell the house? Should we move somewhere else? I was just upstairs on the balcony and there was a photog on the back fence.”

“Don’t sell the house. Don’t let them win. It’s your fairy tale castle and your happily ever after... just hire security.” Her blasé attitude towards the paparazzi made you feel batter. “Just make sure it’s a hot security guard.”

The two of you laughed as you drove through the hoards of lenses.

You pulled into the driveway at Henry’s house, and went inside. You found him sitting in his office at his computer playing online games, shouting into his headset. Taking the opportunity you snuck out and grabbed the iPad taking it into the backyard.

“Chris Evans steps out in Boston with new girl” felt like a gut punch as soon as you read it. It was only fair, but it hurt you nonetheless. You scrolled through pictures of him and some blonde on a date. They were sitting in the park eating ice cream, laughing and smiling.

You knew better, but did it anyway, and scrolled down to the comments. Almost every one of them was hate for you, and praise for him for moving on. “That’ll show her!” Stung a little more than you would have admitted.

You continued on to other sites, pictures of him and women were everywhere. He was never a public person with his personal/dating life, but he was doing this intentionally. You had a sneaking suspicion tomorrow it would be a yet another new girl. His playboy Casanova ways would rear their ugly head in unprecedented ways. He was doing this to hurt you. He was doing it all for show and spite and to save face. You were curious what he was posting and went to his Instagram. The only picture he’d personally posted almost choked you.

There wasn’t a caption. Only endless comments begging him not to be sad, a million broken heart and crying face emojis lined the comments. The others were red angry faces that you were evil and broke his heart. It was too much to bear.

“Two can play that game...” you snarled as you locked the iPad and stormed inside.

You found Ashley going through the mail, deciding not to make a joke about hiding letters, and asked for her help.

You divulged your grand plan and with a quick outfit change sauntered into Henry’s office. You had played different console games before, but were completely new to the world of PC gaming. But you knew Henry loved you, and would let you crawl into his lap as he played. You also knew he had a spare headset he’d offer so watching him would be more fun.

Just as planned, you crawled into his lap, careful to not interrupt his game. With a kiss on the neck, and a quick gesture, Henry pointed to the headset for you to slip on. He continued playing, enjoying the fact you were taking an interest, not the least bit upset to have you snuggled against him.

What he didn’t see was Ashley snapping pictures from different angles behind the two of you. You tilted your head and wiggled your ass, knowing it’d elicit another kiss. That would be the petty gold you posted on Instagram.

You had avoided posting altogether for the last couple of weeks, understandably so. You hadn’t even opened the app to look at the countless notifications. You knew there would be a mix between hate and an out pouring of support.

You stayed snuggled in Henry’s lap until he reached a stopping point. Sliding the headphones off of his head, he hugged you tightly and whispered in your ear.

“I love you Darling... you know that, don’t you?” You could feel his breath hot against your skin, but a quick kiss below your ear gave you goosebumps.

You craned your neck to face him, “I love you more.” Another kiss and you moved to get up before his massive arms locked you in place.

“Hey! Smile you two!” Ashley jumped next to the two of you, leaning forward to snap a picture.

The two of you didn’t even have to pose. You ignored the camera, smiling and laughing at each other, a quick kiss, and just generally being an adorable couple in love.

“Sorry, she hasn’t posted to insta in a while and we need something cute and relevant, to distract from the chaos.”

“Yes... well... a couple that plays together, stays together.”

You laughed as you looked at him, “Is that my caption?!”

He laughed a loud hearty laugh, “No! That’s my comment on whatever you post. You can’t steal it.”

With a grin you shook your head, “Fine...”

Later that night you had finally picked the perfect pictures and edited them. You came up with a caption that seemed like the appropriate amount of smartassery and snark. And with the click of a single button they were posted. ‘The only games we’re playing...’

You tossed your phone onto the sofa and went to the kitchen for a victory snack. You were proud of yourself. You knew Chris would see it and be irritated. A check mate for the childish game he obviously wanted to play. Henry walked into the kitchen to find you sitting on the counter fighting to open a roll of chocolate chip cookie dough.

“Darling...Are you going to bake that? Or just eat it out of the tube?”

With a look of a child caught with its hand in the cookie jar, you bit your lip. “Eat it?” You replied sheepishly.

He laughed as he pulled you to the edge of the counter, standing between your knees. “Are you going to share?”

“Kal can’t have cookie dough....” you shook your head, giving him doe eyes and a pouty lips.

He rolled his eyes as he quickly leaned in and took a giant bite out of the side, leaving an open bite shaped hole.

“Mr. Cavill!!” You screeched and laughed jerking the cookie dough further away from him in a pretend game of keep away. He stood still, giving you puppy dog eyes as he silently spit out the plastic liner. “Ohhhhh gross. You punk.... this is mine.”

“You won’t share?! With me?! Mrs. Cavill!” He jokingly shouted before realizing what he had said.

His comment caught you off guard for a split second before you wrapped your legs around him, locking him against you and the counter, “Not yet... but I will be.”

He leaned in and kissed you, sneakily distracting you as he ripped the cookie dough out of your hands, holding it up high above his head and out of your reach.

“Give me a kiss....” he commanded.

And you did.

“Tell me you love me....”

And you did.

“Say please....”

You looked up at him with a mischievous grin.

“Please Daddy...”

He dropped his arm, and leaned in, bringing his face close to yours. “Forget cookie dough, now we’re going to bed.”

He threw you over his shoulder and carried you to bed, kicking the door closed behind you.

#romance #fiction #fanfic #chris evans #fanfiction #henry cavill

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sav-grey · 3 years

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who: sav & avery ( @averybeaumontpeters ) when: shortly after the secret santa event where: coffee shop on the new zealand campus

Sav had barely left her room since the Secret Santa party. She probably would’ve, so people didn’t believe the shit the crusade or whatever they were called was saying about her, but practically every time she had tried, she had burst into tears. So this was the first time a lot of people were seeing her, and Sav felt prickly from all the looks. Her sunglasses were perched on her nose, so no one could see her puffy eyes, as she ventured out - solely because she had run out of coffee in her room. As she was getting herself a cup, she felt eyes on her, Sav turning to look - glare, really, from behind her glasses. “What? Didn’t your parents teach you it was rude to stare?” she said, lifting her chin up slightly, trying her best to maintain a haughty attitude.

Avery was still trying to wrap her head around what happened. She hadn’t even tried to talk to Lucy again after not so indirectly accusing her of knowing- definitely not Avery’s finest moment in the world. So of course she didn’t even try to talk to Say either. If anything, her actions after the event weren’t helping her case against Ches’ accusations that she only cared about herself, and that she’d always just run away whenever it convenienced her. But contrary to her actions, she did actually care- and she was concerned. Both for Lucy and especially Sav. Not to mention she was scared shitless that the group was able to just make their impact like that out of nowhere. When she saw Sav in what felt like years, but was probably only a couple weeks at most, she kept telling herself to talk to her. After all of these years now she decided to be shy all of the sudden? But what was there to say? Ask if she was okay? Avery was convinced that would have been worse than not saying anything at all. In the midst of trying to figure out how to break the ice, Sav decided enough was enough and did it herself. “I wasn’t… staring.” Avery protested. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t a figment of my imagination or anything. I haven’t seen you since… You know. But uh- clearly you aren't. Don't think my subconscious would manifest you to yell at me or anything. Probably would pick someone else... like... My third grade science teacher probably. Yikes..." A nervous chuckle escaped as she could feel the tension. "So- yeah... good to see you... welcome back.... to the world of the real and... stuff."

“You were staring,” Sav immediately countered, lifting her cup and taking a slow sip from it. Things between her and Lucy were decidedly icy - some might say cold war like, even, considering neither had reached out to the other - and Sav was still deliberating on whether or not to apply that towards Avery as well, considering she was Lucy’s sister. “Just because you haven’t seen me doesn’t mean I haven’t been part of the world, Avery,” she said, her tone decidedly less than kind. Guess it did extend towards Avery. Well, it wasn’t the first time Avery had been involved with rumors about Sav, so....it was kinda fair. “Feel free to keep pretending I’m a figment of your imagination. I think I’d prefer it that way,” Sav added with a bit of a sniff.

"Okay, yeah I was staring." Avery admitted, since clearly jokingly trying to skirt around that wasn't doing anyone any favors. The more she heard Sav's response, the more she felt a bit of a ping in her chest. "Look, I... Won't say anything. I mean we're friends." Yet she didn't have much problem latching onto the last piece of gossip about Sav, so her defense already was a bit rocky at best.

“Won’t say anything?” Sav echoed, her eyebrows raising up at Avery. At least Avery had admitted that she was joking around, but saying she wouldn’t say anything? As if she knew anything to say in the first place. “Are we, Avery? Because a friend wouldn’t have to tell me they wouldn’t say anything they don’t know shit about. It would be a given. Because a friend wouldn’t believe a lie anyways. But given it was your sister lying, I guess it’s to be expected you’re in on it.”

"I- know it's a given, I just... wanted to make sure you know." Avery was about to defend herself further right up until Sav dragged her sister into it. "...---You can't actually think Lucy was in on that. I mean I know I sort of asked, but I didn't actually think that. I get that you're pissed or whatver, but that's not an excuse to treat everyone like they're about to attack you."

“Well, honestly, Avery, I don’t know. It seems to me like this is the second time in only a couple months you seem to be somehow involved in rumors about me, so I’m sorry if I find that a little hard to believe right now,” Sav pointed out, her words sharp as she spoke. At the time, her annoyance with Avery for approaching her with the pregnancy rumors had been mostly surface level, but all that came rushing back now. “I’m pissed or whatever?” Sav echoed, disbelief coating her tone. “Do you even realize what you’re saying? Yes, I’m pissed. Yes, I figure everyone is about to attack me. Because someone did, Avery. Something like this isn’t a joking matter. And anyone who is being blasé about these people is just fooling themselves. They clearly don’t give a fuck about ruining any of our lives.”

"Involved, wha--" Avery just barely held back a laugh as she could feel her defenses rising. "Yeah, sure I guess you could say I was involved because I happened to hear the rumor that you were pregnant, but if that's the case, then the entire fucking school was involved in that rumor." The only difference was Avery had the guts to actually ask Sav about it. In retrospect, sure she didn't go about it in the best way, and she probbaly should have just minded her own business all together, but it wasn't like she was the cause of the rumor itself. The defensiveness from Avery certainly couldn't have been helping matters, but everything was just feeling so ridiculous that it felt impossible to reel it in. "I'm not saying it's a joking matter, Sav. But I'm not a part of the crusade, so if you could stop acting like I am or like I'm pulling the strings behind the scene or some shit, that'd be really lovely."

#thread: avery #avery08

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adamsvanrhijn · 4 years

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Hello there! I have been happily working through your incredible wtmy,tbws fic like a duck enthusiastically eating a bowl of peas, and was wondering if I may request a director’s commentary on the "never cared to 'til a minute ago. Always been a delicate bloke." conversation OR whatever scene from that fic that you most enjoyed writing? Thank you!

thank you! i am loving that simile very much.................. a duck enthusiastically eating a bowl of peas. amazing.

under cut because the fic itself is Adult Content haha

& also because this is Absurdly long... doing this meme for other people is really hammering in for me how much i rely on single line dialogue & short paragraphs lol. i’d love to work on that, but, womp womp, it hasn’t really been happening.

there is ... a lot going on in this scene lol. i feel very galaxy brain while writing this fic and it’s very pretentious, but i’m just gonna poke at the relevant bits around that quote instead of quoting The Whole Thing. this is from chapter 5 of when to my soul, the body would say !

context -- they’ve had morning sex in front of a mirror, then they went for breakfast at the place they’re staying, where richard is using a persona for Safety Reasons, & now they’re just hanging out and richard has been checking thomas out for the last 5-15 minutes without him noticing... until he comments on thomas smoking, and then thomas...

...lets his eyes wander, himself.

Richard, fully dressed save for his shoes, is turned from the bureau, arm slung over the top of the chair. He did his hair this morning, because Evelyn Price would not have gotten up to anything in the night that could possibly alter the work of a week's worth of Brilliantine, and Thomas sort of hates it.

Not how it looks.

What it means. Or represents, rather. That they've got people other than each other upon whom they need to make good impressions, be they in service or just in the world at large.

right, so, this is like, the Ground Work Thoughts for thomas here as far as this particular interaction is concerned, because this is Very Much about perception / Being Perceived, and before the conversation even happens he’s paying richard a lot of attention, almost to the point of scrutiny. and richard is put together in a way that is very much not for thomas’s sake, it’s for they-left-the-room’s sake, and so he’s noticing that and that’s his frame of mind as they move on.

side note! hair styling oil & pomades really were worn for multiple days in a row. amazing. i could never. there should really be more in this fic about richard’s hair being all floraly <3 <3 <3 but there isn’t. womp womp. that would have been a Factor in this bit huh lol.

"You ever try it?" asks Thomas. Meaning smoking.

"No," he says. He tilts his head thoughtfully. "Never cared to 'til a minute ago. Always been a delicate bloke."

Thomas coughs impolitely.

"I don't see the harm in saying it, Thomas."

The feeling he can't describe leaves him, and a different one forms, in his gut instead of his lungs, an uncomfortable and unwelcome weight. Knotted.

aaaaand boom. thomas Did Not Sign Up For This.

richard’s being 100% honest, just speaking casually, but thomas’s reaction is enough to get him on the defensive & he’s not an idiot so he knows why, but this is also not something he has lately put a lot of thought into. he’s Accepted It About Himself (we’ll get into this). thomas meanwhile is not ready to approach the subject of Delicacy for anybody he cares about, because to him it’s not a good description, it’s not something he aspires to be or wants to come across as, but he has many times in his life come across as it anyway. he’s Not Like That.

so the word alone sticks in the wheels of his rolly suitcase emotional baggage, even though it’s richard using it on himself.

"Well, you clearly haven't got a problem with playing at being normal," Thomas says pointedly. Tough not to be pointed when he feels like this, because he's no stranger to it, is he. "If I didn't know better I'd be asking after your wife and baby like the rest of this place."

Lucky those people were leaving after breakfast; Thomas wouldn't be able to take two full days of it.

He hasn't asked about the photographs in the wallet yet, either, and he's not sure if he will.

normal being heterosexual, in this instance, which is contemporary vocabulary.

and richard is very good at playing straight when he’s not fearing for thomas’s life, so. it’s true! it’s a legitimate opinion. but it’s also a pretty significant logical leap that richard is about to pick up on, because that makes him uncomfortable, given thomas is basically saying.... you seem straight, what are you talking about, which isn’t going to make him feel excellent about the sense of identity he’s settled into.

the rest of this is an Achievement Thomas Is Yet To Unlock so i won’t say much other than that this is not a significant addition to richard as the reader might know him from ywntmha, but, a lot of the big emotional work & development in that fic happens in 1929, with this meeting as the impetus... so it is very significant for thomas, at this point. we’re still in january and they still have a ways to go both in the next 24 hours and in the rest of the year.

Richard raises his eyebrows. "And what's that got to do with it?"

He shrugs.

It should be obvious. It would be obvious, to anyone who bothered to think about it for more than half a second.

that’s not a good faith question; richard’s goading him into actually saying the underlying thought. on one level thomas knows that, which is why he doesn’t say that part out loud and only thinks it.

"It's pretending, is all it is," Richard continues, a little too gentle.

"Don't call yourself what they call you," Thomas returns, a little too sharp.

and since goading doesn’t work, new tactic on richard’s part here, and though thomas can tell it’s intentional it does work on him, so.

writing this was interesting for several reasons but one of the big ones is, and anybody who’s been following me since Before da will probably know this, i like... have very little patience for discussion about personal identity, especially when it comes to reclamation ? i am way more interested both on a personal and academic level (bc i can’t lie about that lmfao, hashtag english major) in community + external ideas imposed on people.

and this might seem like a very 2010s conversation for them to be having, but... this period of time was really the Dawn of queer/lgbt identity Concepts: words were being coined, communities were coming together in new ways, in continental europe & the us especially there was a lot of rapid development and transition here owing to various roaring 20s factors, and i think richard given his situation would have been exposed to that, for one, but also just, it’s gonna be in both their environments because it was getting to be a thing from the victorian era w/ the medicalisation of homosexuality and things are only expanding.

"delicate” is a euphemism, not a slur, but it has hella connotations & they are both fully aware of them.

"Rather it be me saying it than them."

Blasé like it doesn't mean a thing at all.

You should know better, he wants to say, you should know better than anyone.

"Don't see how you can feel that way when it's not true to begin with."

thomas’s Only Gay Friend Is My Boyfriend is showing here lol, this is shining light on a gap in what he knows about richard & what he Thinks he knows about richard, so there’s a dissonance. and he sees richard as Masculine on a conscious or subconscious level, and he’s in a These Are Antonyms place re “delicate”. some black & white thinking going on here.

& i feel like the other part is probably fairly explanatory but, richard gets a sense of control and self-assurance by using a word for himself that might not be kind coming out of other people’s mouths and Being Okay With That.

"Thomas…"

They lock eyes.

A tense moment passes.

It is Richard who breaks first. He turns back to the desk with a small sigh.

"This has very little to do with you," he says carefully.

richard, knowing thomas as he does, is able to tell that he’s taking this personally, because he Is, so that’s that there, but again this is something he’s already settled in himself and so there’s also an element of having to justify again this thing he’s already figured out, which he isn’t exactly fond of.

anyway i said i’d get into this -- there’s a lot of interesting like, Societal / Subcultural / Etc politics with regards to being a male servant in this day and age and Gender In General, and valets especially -- throughout the time period leading up to this but ESPECIALLY in the 1920s when there are fewer men in service than there ever have been and more and more kinds of, say, manufacturing jobs as the automobile industry picks up & labour saving devices start having more complicated parts, and probably yknow most of the boys he went to school with are in that or mining or railways, so he’d have thought about it earlier on in his life probably. or Has rather. ftr his brother was in the carriage works i don’t think that ever comes up but there’s a lot there lol. there’s some family stuff in but level in time that we’ll get to........... someday. ANYWAY.

the point is.

valeting is an effeminate job.

like, point blank. i’m seeing that idea both in sources specifically about servants & just general of-the-era stuff about great houses. when you’re talking about gay men in service a lot of them are valets, and some of that lines up w stereotypes & common lifestyle habits of gay men in general -- looking after hair shoes and clothing, obvs, attention to detail in physical appearance (note that men who Get Valeted also care about details, but they are not the ones who actually have to think and decide about it; whereas their wives are probably giving their ladies’ maids more directions as to hair styles and dresses etc etc because they’re expected to care about that part of the process in a way that men weren’t), exposure to social mores in a variety of different contexts, being well-connected within both the communities that help him get work done: tailoring, hairdressing, shoemakers, drapers, etc and in General, having softer skills like sewing and whatnot. and you’re unmarried and looking after the presentation of another man so there’s some like, desexualisation stuff there.

and thomas and richard would both know this very, very well. they’d have encountered the idea both as men in service and as gay men and especially as gay men in service.

this richard has been working at buckingham palace for more than twenty years at this point, minus his war backstory which....... is complex and i haven’t gotten into it very much anywhere but he was getting cosy with some higher ups and having To Do about presentation there too and like, was in the service corps which was non-combat supply lines ....... and apprenticing valeting / actually (non-principally) valeting the Literal King Of England for nine.

he has had a LOT of time to get over his shit.

he not only likes his job* but he’s also very good at his job, literal 2nd highest valet position in frankly The World, which is fucking wild, and that combined with his Childhood of like, being second best to his older brother who was like, a perfect human being so far as he could ever tell and that included being very traditionally like, athletic and Leaderly and having-a-sweetheart-in-your-youth-you-then-marry when he was more interested in, you know, story telling and Arts N Crafts (i’m being tongue in cheek) and just generally not ... especially into the Boys Will Be Boys stuff............................

he’s fine with it! he is Fine with being called delicate, it’s helped him get over a lot of his issues just to decide oh, this actually fits my personality and the trajectory my life has followed, so i’m going to just accept that and move on ! etc.

but thomas is not anywhere near there for himeslf and therefore he isn’t for other people, too, because one of thomas’s Problems is that he hates seeing other people comfortable and happy when he isn’t... and that even applies to richard, because love does not make us perfect.

*he wants to leave service and he’s tired of the constant scrutiny of working where he does for whom he does, but he does like his actual duties in a lot of ways.

well here’s a novel. i hope this satisfies you!!! <3 <3 <3

#lots of ..... gender in here...#downton abbey tag #fic talk tag

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alias-b · 4 years

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Without The Lights~ Billy Hargrove x OC Camille Harper

Chapter 1: Uptown Girl

Touch with Billy Hargrove often meant getting fresh stitches plucked open. For Camille Harper, he'd risk it. Camille was Queen Bee of Hawkins High School. The teen dream. Billy wanted her for it. No use lying about that much. But, they get more than they bargained for when two messy lives from opposite ends of town intertwine. Secrets unravel between them when one dimension bleeds into another. Camille is a girl just trying to do better when Billy barges into her life and new pieces come together. Maybe not all the ones they wanted. He gets tangled into her lavish existence. Rich girl. Absent parents. A mystery that blooms, threatening everything they built. And three little numbers: 006.

A/N: Also posted on my AO3 :))) I thought I’d conform and start posting here too bc why not!. Warning for mention of past bullying, teens drinking/smoking, and one light mention of forced vomiting. Starts at S2 and veers off into an AU at 3. Thanks!

** ** ** ** ** ** **

It had to be a joke. Hick town. Piece of shit school. Nothing here came close to California. It was all gone. That sweet citrus air. The crisp waves of billowing sea water. Billy Hargrove decided anywhere was better than here. Hawkins, Indiana was a pit. Especially while an office aid with horrid breath prattled on across the counter. He couldn’t even fake the charm this morning.

“Here are your classes, Mr. Hargrove. We tend to pair all our transfers with a student. Make your first day easier.”

“Don’t bother.” Billy clutched an old messenger bag in one hand, snatching his class list to his chest. The secretary pretended not to hear him when the office door opened. A bubble of pink gum popped and Billy grew stunned.

“Ah, here she is. Ms. Harper, this is William Hargrove-"

"Billy."

"-the new transfer. He’ll shadow you this morning.”

“Camille,” her lips lifted in greeting. Hair flicked behind her shoulder when she adjusted her sweater. All dark locks and huge green, hazel eyes. They took a beat to stare. Billy knew instantly the circle this girl was in. Picture perfect. Pretty in pink. Prissy thing. Oh, but, she was a fox. His eyes drew to the tiny beauty mark under her right eye. That voice was lush even for a seventeen year old with such a sweet face. But, those eyes. “Let’s see it, transfer.”

“Huh?” Billy lost his thought when her hand came up to pluck the schedule from his fingers.

“I’ve got it from here, Ms. Krueger.”

“Harper. Hargrove. Har har. Perfect fit,” the woman laughed at her joke and Camille looped one arm in Billy’s to get this boy to move his ass. She wouldn’t let him make her late.

“Good one, Ms. Krueger.” That sweet princess smile dropped the moment they turned the corner so she pulled from him when he fell in stride. Billy was barely two inches taller than her. This girl glided like a ballerina. It was infuriating. Almost. “Shame I didn’t find you earlier, I could have warned you to keep a distance. That woman doesn’t know her way around a bottle of mouthwash.” Camille popped another bubble and peered up at him, lax. “We have first period together. English with Strode.” Billy found his charm again.

“Lucky for you.” He remarked, earning the slightest huff of amusement. Barely audible. Students peered at them both, fascinated with the new boy. Sizing him up. He carried himself higher in response and grew annoyed when his thoughts lingered on Max probably stuck with awkward introductions as well.

“Looks like I’ll also be seeing you in...hm, third period: study hall, lunch, and fourth period: chemistry. Huh...” Those bright eyes lifted and he gave a scoff, grumbling.

“Everything else was full.”

“This way,” she turned the corner and peered up to meet Nancy’s eyes. She’d pulled from Steve and given a slight wave that was acknowledged in turn. Camille passed her and ignored everyone’s staring before she knocked one knuckle to metal. “Your locker. Lucky boy, you didn’t get a broken one.” She leaned against the wall and gave him a moment to stuff books away. “Where did you transfer from?” Camille watched him suck in his cheeks. Jaw clenched. Oh, he was pretty.

“California.” He cocked his head and she caught the slightest dusting of freckles in the light. “Dad decides to uproot the family to the land of manure.”

“You get used to that.” That silent amusement twitched.

“Don’t bet on it.” He smacked the door shut, smooth now. “You the queen bee around here?”

“What’s it to you?” She walked along, gliding still.

“Every school has their royalty.” Billy remarked and she changed the subject without breaking stride. A sort of challenge danced between them.

“This way. Mrs. Strode is easy enough. Just nod a lot when she eyes you and pretend to take notes. You have Gym next. Down the hall all the way to the end, take a left, you’ll find it. Big room with basketball hoops and sweaty boys. Can’t miss it.” Miss Priss liked her dry humor, he noted. "I can meet you and show you where to go after. Keep up and don’t make me late. We clear, transfer?” She tilted her head to one side and Billy studied her.

“Crystal.” He drew out the syllables and she smirked, turning to go off with another flick of lavish hair.

“Welcome to Hawkins, Billy Hargrove.”

** ** ** **

“How did you get the best job in school?” Carol leaned over the lunch table hours later.

“Carol,” Camille sighed with no joy and pulled from her conversation with Heather next to her.

“Showing that fine ass around?”

“Aren’t you still with Tommy? Thought he was ass enough.” Camille earned a snicker from Heather so Carol stood taller.

“Some of us are trying to eat,” Steve Harrington appeared from nothing and Carol shot him a look, going around him and bumping into Nancy on the way off.

“Still bitter,” Camille remarked, sitting back.

“She needs to get over herself. Anyways, I have to drop something off, see you in chem. New lab partners coming. I think I got Robin.” Heather hurried to go with a wave goodbye.

“Can I sit?” Steve waited for a nod and Nancy joined him.

“You two going to Tina’s Halloween party?” Orange flyers where littered all over the school.

“Wouldn’t miss it. Didn’t that guy jump off the roof last year and land in the koi pond?” Steve shook his head

“Rumor had it, he ate one of those fish on a bet.” Camille joked, eyes flicked across the way to see Tina giving Billy an invitation. Flirting.

“So, the new boy.” Nancy began.

"Asshole." Steve was quick to remark. "I have gym with the guy."

“Rough and tumble sort.” Camille bit into an apple slice and shrugged. Year later and it was strange. Being friends again. Or, trying to. Suppose tragedy brings people together.

“Steve and I are going tonight. To the Holland’s.” Nancy began. “You’re welcome again.”

“Not sure I can do it tonight. Last time...and that house.” Camille paused, inhaling. “And my parents are going to be home together for the first time in weeks. They’ll want to do something.”

“Dad still working late at Hawkins lab?” Nancy pretended to be blasé about it.

“That and all the trips. He’s a wanted man, I guess. Mom is absorbed into her fashion thing. But, she loves it and I can’t knock her wanting to work again.”

“What exactly does your dad do there these days?”

“Never talks about it so I stopped asking. Big shot scientists. Can’t be bothered. Making the town a better place, always late to dinner. Whatever.” Camille’s eyes lifted. “Why the interest in my Dad lately?”

“Just all that stuff last year. A lot happened. Fingers were pointed.”

“They pointed wrong, I heard. Not like my dad would ever be involved in these weird conspiracies. He’s painfully normal.”

“He could secretly be a Terminator, Cam,” Steve laughed and Nancy dropped it when Camille reached over to smack her friend.

“Real funny.” She stood with her tray. “He says he helps people. He’s wanted to help people his whole life. I’ve heard every speech possible about it. But, whatever tests they’re running, they can’t exactly flash that all over the news. Small town labs, you know, they’re nothing. They’re glorified electric companies.”

“They certainly can’t flash it.” Nancy tried to smile.

“Tell Mrs. Holland I’m thinking about her.”

“I will.” Nancy gave a nod, resting back while Camille dumped her trash out and couldn’t spot Billy when the bell rang. Huffing, she rolled her eyes and marched out, turning to sneak down the hallway and open a back door to a set of stone steps. Her assigned shadow was leaning into them, hurrying to snuff out a smoke.

“Easy, beach boy, it’s me. You’re making me late for chem.”

“Broke Princess’s rule, huh. How’d you find me so quick?”

“Know the type. All the smokers who think they’re slick slip out this door. It’s the spot. Come on.” She cocked her head and he slipped in.

“Tell me about that Steve Harrington guy. More royalty.”

“Making new friends already. How sweet is that.” She picked up the pace when the bell rang again. “Steve, the hair, Harrington. Probably the most popular boy in school. Even after last year.”

“Hearing a lot about last year.” Billy pretended not to care. Nothing exciting in manure land. So he thought.

“Little boy went missing, it was a whole big thing. Thought he died but they found him. Thankfully.”

“Girl went missing too in our class.”

“Barb. They...haven’t found her.” Camille averted her eyes and he dropped that subject. “Steve ruled the school with the rest of us. Certain things went down and our group split. High school drama and all. Not very interesting. Why the questions, don’t you hate this place? Trying to be the new hair guy with those darling curls?”

“Just like to know what I’m up against.”

“Rough and tumble and in need of a new challenge. Noted. Hurry up.” Camille rushed into class with Billy unbothered behind her.

“Ah, Ms. Harper and you brought the new transfer, how nice. Take the last two seats in back. You’ll be lab partners.” Mrs. West gestured, a younger teacher than his others here. Lovely, Camille turned her eyes to Billy and he looked utterly smug. “Billy Hargrove just transferred from California. See to it, class, that he feels welcomed.”

“So far, so good, teach.” He turned up the charm with a wink and earned several girls sitting forward in response before he sauntered down to join Camille at a high table they would share. Pretty and aggravating, Camille decided. Billy eyed her again while the teacher began and she pulled a notebook out. Sleeves shifted up and he noticed a scar, small and round just an inch or so under her wrist. Looked like a burn. Hazel eyes lifted to see his blue ones and there was...nothing. Nothing there that he’d gotten from every other girl at this school admiring his ass in tight jeans. Billy took note to himself: a stone fox.

** ** **

“How was school, honey?” Noah Harper locked the attic door behind him and Camille pretended she wasn’t trying to see into it. His eyes were intent until the lock clicked.

“Fine. Had to show another new guy around.” She eyed the attic again. The only forbidden room in their huge house. “We still on for dinner with mom?”

“About that...” He saw her shoulders drop. “Something came up and they need me tonight.”

“You promised.” She batted her eyes.

“I know and I’ll make it up to you.” He kissed her head. “Did you take your pills?”

“Yes.”

“New dose is helping, I’m sure.”

“Less nosebleeds.” Camille shrugged, averting her eyes before she turned to go down the steps.

“Camille, honey, I promise that we’ll get dinner next time.”

“I know,” she faked a smile. “I get it.”

“You are...everything to me. I love you and I’m sorry I haven’t been around the last year. You are so important. Trust that.” He came to her, tucking hair aside.

“I love you, dad.” She let herself brighten. Just a little. Noah watched her turn to go off. Her mother was currently in her own studio, light filled the room while she mulled over a drawing and turned to pin pieces of fabric to a bodice on a stand.

“Bow or no bow, darling?” Rosemary, a women growing more beautiful with age, mused and Camille considered it.

“Bow.” She plopped into a cushioned chair.

“Talked to your father, did you?” She watched her daughter nod with a pout. “We can still have our dinner and watch whatever romantic movie we wish.”

“I know. I just...never see him anymore. It’s worse.”

“It’ll get better again, they’re short staffed after those accidents. Your father was lucky to be out of town.”

“He’s always out of town.” Camille tried not to whine. “I see Edna more than I see you two.”

“We certainly have kept her busy with this house. She adores you.” The maid practically raised her.

“I just miss my parents.”

“We just want you to have a better life than us. That’s all any parent wishes for. We work hard and can only teach so much. You’ll understand when you grow older.” Rosemary kissed her daughter’s hair. “How was school? I heard talk of a new student. A boy?”

“Yes...”

“A cute boy?”

“Gorgeous and bad news for certain.” Camille crossed her arms.

“So you like him?”

“Every girl liked him and he loved that.” She stood up. Billy was a bad boy drawn to royalty. “Going to get my homework out of the way.”

“Pasta tonight?”

“Yes, of course.” Camille hurried off, eyeing that attic down the long hallway before she continued on.

** ** **

Camille didn’t speak to Billy much that next day. He sat behind her in English and resisted the urge to tug on loose locks of bouncy hair when she shifted in her seat. Study hall was similar, she sat alone with a book on Latin; completely absorbed. Smart and popular. An entire compact package. He could have wrapped her in a pretty, pink ribbon. The thought was enticing. Camille wasn’t the rich bitch she used to be. Well, still working on that but progress lingered between every little conversation with Nancy. Frankly, it was nice to be rid of Tommy and Carol in their group. She took note often of Steve and Nancy huddling together to whisper these days and stopping when she or Heather walked up.

“Happy Halloween, Cam.” Heather never grew out of her sweet face. Doe eyes to match.

“It is indeed. Want to come over and get ready for Tina’s party? My mom seemed excited about it and it’ll break her heart if we don’t let her fuss.”

“Your house is a mansion, I wouldn’t miss it.” Heather laughed to herself.

“I’ll drive you,” Camille cocked her head when they got outside. Billy’s blue Camaro whizzed loudly out of the parking lot. They caught sight of a little redhead in the passenger seat. “Didn’t know he had a sister.”

“Stepsister, I guess. Seemed pretty short about that. She’s the same age as Nancy’s brother.” The two friends got into Camille’s little grey car to speed off. “Are you going out for gymnastics again this year?”

“Ah, not sure. Might tutor instead, they’ve been asking me.”

“Thinking I’ll stay with cheer-leading. I’m so jealous of your brain.” Heather huffed to herself.

“Okay, weird.” Camille laughed and turned a corner.

“I’m serious. You’re somehow beautiful and you absorb books like a sponge absorbs water. And you’re different… Nicer.”

“Okay, rude...but true.” She’d admitted and Heather smiled.

“Good different like happier. Relaxed. You and Nancy are talking again. We never thought we’d see that day. Ever since…you know.”

“I grew tits early and started dressing better and dropped my two friends. Yeah. Lesson learned.”

“It’s just better now. Never too late I guess even for Queen Bee.”

“Too sappy for your own good,” Camille peered over when they passed the Loch Nora sign and pulled up to her house. Lavish and cared for. Cold on occasion when they weren’t throwing the usual holiday party. “Taking your son out tonight, Edna?” Camille stopped the housekeeper on the way out. She was only in her twenties when she came to their family to look after this house and, admittedly, the daughter within whose parents were never around.

“Yes, he’s so excited. Wanted to be the Terminator this year.” She laughed. “Goodnight, Milly.”

“Night,” Camille looped her arm in Heather’s and led her inside where her mother was waiting.

** ** **

Music boomed, vibrating Tina’s house while every teen inside danced about. Many wandered the grounds with red cups full of stolen booze. Spotting Nancy and Steve, Camille crossed with Heather behind her. Two drinks down into her stomach. Working on the third.

“Aw, couples costume. I have to say I’m impressed.” Camille watched Nancy smile with dull eyes.

“Madonna,” Steve eyed Heather, “best one yet.”

“Damn, I knew I’d have competition.” Heather giggled and pulled Nancy off to get a drink.

“She okay?” Camille asked after a beat and Steve rubbed his head.

“Not sure, she’s been acting weird ever since...ah,” Steve stopped himself. “You know it’s been a year and the dinner, I think...it brought some stuff up.”

“Keep an eye on her, something’s off. Something’s been off...with you both.”

“We’ll be fine. Relax.” Steve ran a hand into his locks and Camille gave him a nod, passing to go outside and escape the pounding music. That’s where she saw Billy again. Clad in even tighter jeans and a leather jacket with no shirt. Fingerless gloves. Terminator, she amused herself. Currently, he was hoisted upside down over the keg, easily beating Steve’s held record, while admirers around him cheered and counted. He spotted her and winked even in his position, causing her to roll her eyes and drink from her own cup.

“Yeah!” He got upright and sprayed beer, earning more drunk cheers. Tommy was an eager lackey, egging him on and nearly shoved up his ass. “That’s how you do it, Hawkins!” He puffed a cigarette as the wild crowds hurried back to join the dancing.

“The new keg king!” Tommy bellowed and Billy paid him no mind, crossing toward Camille leaning near the doorway. Eyes narrowing and deliberate, he stalked like a lion and she was undaunted.

“You’re fitting in.” She commented so he blew smoke the other way. “Nice costume.”

“And you are, ah, some kind of witch.” He gestured with his hands.

“Stevie Nicks.” She chuckled. “As in: Fleetwood Mac. But, honestly, you’re not wrong.”

“Think you meant, bitch. Hey, Harper.” Tommy leaned over Billy’s shoulder, wasted. “Still flying lower with Steve and Miss Perfect?”

“Oh, Tommy. Don’t be like that,” Camille smiled with red lips splitting wide. An expression that cut. “Glad to see you and Carol still going so strong.” She stepped forward, craning her neck to see him behind Billy. A true predator. Slow and calculating. Billy couldn’t help but leer. She acted like he wasn’t even there between them. Princess played up a pout. “Do you remember when you two had that little break and you wrote me that...dirty...nasty...filthy letter. Spelling and grammar problems aside, it was…vividly detailed. Billy, you should have been around for that.” She gave his shoulder a pat and shivers ran his spine, amusement flickered his own expression. “Tommy, here, is quite the writer. I still have it, thinking of getting a chic frame. Something classy.” She gulped the rest of her cup. “Maybe, I ought to get together with Carol. Compare notes sometime. I’m sure she’d adore that.” Camille gave Tommy’s cheek a light smack and pressed her empty cup toward him until he took it. “Enjoy the party, boys. Queen’s gotta buzz.”

“Stay away from that one,” Tommy scoffed, pushing at Billy next to him who only smiled. “Daddy’s girl. Spoiled nightmare. Total bitch.” Billy inhaled smoke again and flicked ashes in Tommy’s direction to get him off his back.

“Rough and tumble girl.” He’d muttered more so to himself. Camille crossed to get another drink when Tommy came in boasting about their new keg king.

“Eat it, Harrington!” Another boy joined in. Chants of Billy’s name died down when the two teens sized each other up. Steve yanked his sunglasses away. Instant disdain. Nancy rolled her eyes and turned to get away from them, crossing to the bowl of punch.

“What’s in this one?” She leaned over to grab a cup.

“Pure fuel!” The drunk boy on Camille’s other side donned a toga and stumbled.

“Rat poison.” Camille was flat, sipping. "And I was so hoping for gasoline, we had rat poison at the last party." Nancy was already dunking her cup in to gulp.

“Whoa, slow down.” Camille touched her wrist. Nancy went in for another and Steve hurried over when Camille gave him a look.

“Take it easy, Nance. Hey...” He put his arm out and she scoffed at him, wiping the punch from her cheek.

“We’re just being stupid teenagers for the night. Wasn’t that the deal?” She was already intoxicated after three full cups. Ruefully, she moved beyond her friends and went to join the dancing with a fourth cup.

“I told you.” Camille pushed at Steve so he went after her. “What the hell?” She'd uttered under her breath, turning to almost run into Billy Hargrove’s bare chest. He enjoyed it a little too much.

“Scare you?”

“Second day in the manure fields of Hawkins and you are the new keg king. Your majesty.” She gave a mocking curtsy and shifted around him to lean against an empty doorway. The air smelled of booze and weed. Billy trailed after to light up another smoke. Intrigued, he puffed and offered it to her. A clear test. Intoxicated, Camille took it and dragged slowly, blowing air aside. “Afraid I only smoke on the rare drunken social occasion.” She offered it back with two fingers only for him to wrap his lips around it, blue eyes lingering when he inhaled. “You think you’re slick, don’t you?” Her hand pulled from him and he ghosted a smile with smoke edging between his teeth around the cigarette. Billy leaned into her space.

“You really think I can’t get a read on you, Harpy?” He was pleasantly drunk too.

“Harpy? That’s a new one.” Did she like it? Perhaps. “And, yes, actually. I do.”

“Got used to all these country boys tripping over themselves. Worker bee drones. But, you know they don’t stand a chance and you love it.” He pressed his palm to the door frame behind her to shift closer. Cologne invaded her senses above the smoke. Ashes flicked. He dragged once more and snuffed it into the wall after. “They all fall down. Can’t read the queen.”

“And you think you’re quick enough on your feet, Billy?” She watched that dear, charming smile cross his face. Hard not to melt at that. Camille trailed her eyes down his sharpened expression. His voice hushed.

“I think that you want to find out.” He leaned into her, eyelashes fluttering. Barely inches from those full, red lips; Billy heard her utter and touch his chest.

“Shit.” Camille came out from him to see Nancy trying to get back into the punch bowl. Billy stilled to lean out too, irritation twitched his brow. Almost had her.

“Nancy, stop, put it down.” Steve tried to wrestle the cup from her and Nancy was accidentally splashed with a full drink. Staining her white costume. The party stilled briefly to see the scuffle.

“What the hell?” Nancy slapped the cup down and hurried away. Camille forgot Billy in front of her and crossed after with Steve behind her. Nancy stumbled down a hallway and tripped with her friend barely catching her.

“Come on, I got you.”

“I don’t need your help,” Nancy pushed off and poked her shoulder. “You can’t just...just pretend to be my friend again because you feel sorry for Barb and I.”

“Nancy...it isn’t like that. I lost her too.” Camille stood taller. Steve drew forward as if to get between them.

“Where were you, then? Huh? Bullshitting with...with all your cool new people. Stuffing fingers down your throat because Carol said to." It only happened twice. "Buying another cool outfit, oh, so p-popular. Impress your asshole friends. We...We killed Barb.”

“Nancy, stop.” Steve tried to get her into the bathroom.

“She needed us. She was always there for us and we weren’t there!” Nancy jerked away and spun on her heel to shut herself into the bathroom. Steve paused to see the girl behind him.

“I deserved that.”

“She drank too much. She didn’t mean it,” Steve touched her arm. “And no, you didn’t. You and I...we made some shitty choices.”

“People were hurt because of them.” Camille offered.

“We can do better. We are.” Steve nodded. “I need to check on her.”

“Of course,” Camille turned and went back into the main room. Jonathan Byers crossed to see her. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

“I didn’t either.” Jonathan stuffed his hands into his pockets. “She okay?”

“I’m not sure anymore. Something's been… You guys are friends now, yeah?”

“Friends, I, uh, yes. We...We’re friends.” He’d stammered.

“Look. Have you noticed anything...off?”

“Off?” Jonathan shrugged awkwardly. “No, just-”

“The anniversary. Sure. Look, Jonathan, she likes you. She trusts you. Can you just...keep an eye on her?” She crossed her arms and there was a beat. “We weren’t ever friends and I was...not great to you.”

“You let your friend smash my camera.”

“You used that camera to take pictures of a girl undressing without her consent.” She pressed in an even tone and Jonathan dropped his head to nod. “We’re all stupid ass teenagers, right?”

“Guess so,” Jonathan relaxed when she smiled slightly at him. Steve came barging out to pass them, leaving.

“That isn’t good. Hey, I’m...too drunk to drive. Can you get Nancy home? She’s...not well.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan moved to pass her. “Stay safe.”

“You too...” She watched him go off, dropping her arms. Killed Barb. Nancy’s words. They haunted Camille the rest of that night.

** ** **

Camille stared at her chemistry book in study hall the next day, day dreaming while she doodled along her notebook. Killed Barb. Did Nancy believe that? Did they know more about that night? Those words flashed high like stage lights across her brain. A textbook slapped down across the way and Billy Hargrove was looking at her with those intent eyes. Pleased she jumped in shock, he suppressed a laugh when the librarian hushed him.

“Don’t think she likes me.” He muttered, still entertained.

“Can’t imagine why.” Camille sat back, annoyed. “What?”

“You’re avoiding me, Harpy.” He cocked his head and plopped down across from her. In the corner, they tried to stay hushed. Classic music played on low and Billy groaned to himself. “Not my fault that Strode paired us together for the project.” Camille shut her chem book and stuffed it away.

“Easy project, we pick a book from the list. Read it. Collaborate in a paper.”

“Pick one and sum it up for me.” He earned a silent laugh when she turned from him to peer outside at the crisp, grey day.

“Oh no, Billy boy, you’re going to at the very least skim the book and happily contribute to our paper. You can come to my place after school today, we’ll work on it. After you drop your sister off, I guess.”

“Max is my stepsister.” He corrected while she jotted her address down and slipped it into his hands.

“Be there or face my perfect student wrath.”

“Spitfire, I like it.” He leaned forward, arms crossing over the table. “You live in the rich neighborhood. Mommy and daddy going to be okay when I roll up to see their precious daughter? Oh, can’t forget the maid checking in all hours of the day.”

“They’re both out on business and the housekeeper is off today actually.”

“So, you’re inviting me to a big, empty house in the ritzy part of town...” He had far too many ideas.

“To work...on a project. There’s free take-out of our choosing in the deal if you show. And that sweet face will show.” She barely spared him a glance, clearly distracted still. Billy worked to catch her gaze.

“Worried about college when dearest dad can buy you any single one you want?”

“No, I just like to be the best.” She leaned forward too with a sly grin. “I enjoy school and I’m not planning on staying in a fancy house in Hawkins, Indiana with a husband I’ll never see. Especially when there is a whole world out there waiting for me to explore it.”

“Manure ain’t good enough for you now?”

“Very funny. Hawkins is too small for me. And I have a good brain that I like to put to use. I'm wasted here.” She shrugged. “No crime in that and daddy didn’t buy me everything, I saved for my own car. Now, I think you should use study hall to...study. That chem quiz Friday is going to kick your ass.”

“No use, I’m screwed.” He looked away and changed the subject. “What kind of take-out?”

“Possibly a large cheese pizza.” She quirked her lips while he rubbed his jaw.

“Hard bargain. Throw green peppers on half the pizza and I want a grand tour of your castle. You can put the royal stinger away for one night.”

“You’re just trying to waste time, Hargrove,” her eyes narrowed. Billy bit his bottom lip, entertained with a nod. Another heart melting expression when he gave her those big, blue eyes. “Deal.” She reached out and he curled his fingers around her hand to shake it.

"You won't regret this," his other hand covered hers to draw it out.

"Already am." She produced that honeyed smile a final time. Billy stood with his bag gripped tight, sliding around the table to lean next to her ear.

“I stand by what I said at the party. Just so we’re clear.” Slipping off, he disappeared behind a row of bookshelves. Camille suppressed another grin and went back to her notebook, shading in the petals of a sunflower. She imagined it in a field flooded by sunlight getting kissed by the wind. The smile broke through at the mere thought.

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy x camille #Camille Harper #Without the lights #billyhargrove #mine #writing #stranger things fic

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jennycalendar · 6 years

Text

regarding honor and honesty in the workplace (3/?)

read on ao3!

this chapter: jenny does her best to balance being an efficient working mom with getting some intel from lilah regarding what exactly she’s been hired to do.

from the personal files of Jenny Calendar:

Faith is…a complicated story to tell.

Let’s start it this way. Around the same time that I was a bright-eyed, optimistic young detective in my early twenties, Faith had been placed in a foster home with way too many kids for the foster mom to realistically handle. I got called into the neighborhood on an unrelated case, and Faith took an interest in me because of my kickass detective skills and the fact that I’d been the only one to tell off her foster mother’s kid for stealing her belongings. She started following me around whenever I was in the neighborhood, to the point where I started making extra trips just because I wanted to see her.

The foster mother was a nice lady, sort of. I use the term “nice” to mean “simple,” here, because she had a very black-and-white view of the world and wasn’t able to see the nuances of Faith. Sure, Faith could be loud and angry, but Faith also picked me a bouquet of grass and weeds because she couldn’t find flowers and she wanted to give me something with at least one color. She was a very little kid who had had to deal with a lot in a small amount of time, and she wasn’t getting the kind of attention she needed at a home full of other children.

Honestly, I think Faith was the only person who was really surprised when I decided to go through the long and arduous process of adopting her. I kind of always knew that I wanted to have her in my life, from the moment she ran up to me and demanded to know if she could help me spy on her neighbors. It wasn’t an easy adjustment process for either of us, and there are still some rough patches today, but that girl means the world to me.

She wants to be a detective like me after high school. That or a martial arts champion; she takes classes on weekends and she’s still trying to decide. I pointed out that she could do both and make herself a great protagonist for a quirky detective sitcom, and she said “Mom, don’t patronize me,” in a very self-suffering tone of voice that I’m pretty sure she picked up from Buffy.

I try not to push her to share too much, because I know she really values her privacy (funny that she ended up getting adopted by a detective, of all things) and she tends to share things with me when she feels ready. So whatever this thing is about Wolfram and Hart, I think it’s definitely best for Faith that I wait a while on finding it out.

Definitely doesn’t stop me from worrying, though. I think I’m going to go make Faith some soup.

“Hey, Lilah, this is Jenny Calendar,” Jenny began, holding her phone to her ear with her shoulder as she stirred the soup on the stove.

“Private detective Jenny Calendar?”

God, Lilah’s voice sounded sexy even with Jenny’s shitty reception. You’ve got it bad, Calendar. “Yeah, um, my kid came home from school sick and I really have to stay home tonight and take care of her,” Jenny explained, acutely aware of how un-sexy that probably sounded to someone like Lilah. Maybe that was good, though, because Jenny wasn’t generally into people who weren’t okay with Faith. This could serve as some kind of a litmus test.

“Your kid,” Lilah echoed, as though storing away this new information. “All right. Is your kid going to be sick tomorrow too?”

“Hold up.” Jenny placed down the soup spoon, took the phone in one hand, and hurried to stick her head into Faith’s bedroom. “Honey, you want me to stay home tomorrow?” Faith hesitated. Jenny knew from experience that hesitation generally meant a secret yes. “Yeah, I’m staying with her tomorrow too,” she said, smiling encouragingly at Faith as she headed back to check on the soup.

“Well,” Lilah drew out the word, “after tomorrow, my schedule’s pretty much booked till Saturday, and I really want to get started on this case. I hate to impose, but would it be all right if I stopped by tonight to at least give you some research material?”

Jenny had to really consider this question. Faith’s immediate reaction to the phrase Wolfram and Hart made Jenny think that she wouldn’t react all that well to a Wolfram and Hart lawyer in the house. On the other hand, the money from the Whirlwind case wouldn’t last forever, and Jenny needed to make sure she had a way to buy things like soup and tea and healthy foods. She didn’t want Lilah to lose interest and go to another client, so—

“I’ll give you my address,” she said. “Text me when you’re in the lobby and I’ll meet you as I’m going out to buy groceries.”

“Didn’t realize you were into illicit encounters,” said Lilah, sounding amused. “Can’t say I’m not into it.” She hung up.

Jenny, somewhat flushed, let out a shaky, pleased breath, leaning against the kitchen counter and coming very close to catching her blouse on fire. She only sort of noticed. “Damn,” she whispered, grinning, and turned back to the soup.

Faith liked vegetable soup, specifically the made-from-scratch kind. She pretended she liked the stuff from a can just because she knew it took Jenny forever to make homemade vegetable soup, but Jenny had learned (through a trial-and-error process and, later, through a cooking class with Rupert) how to cook because she knew it made Faith feel cared for. Jenny stirred the mixture a few more times before ladling some of the soup into a bowl. Placing the bowl onto a tray with a glass of water, she picked the tray up and carefully carried it into Faith’s bedroom.

“I feel so important,” said Faith with a weak grin.

“You totally are.” Jenny kissed her on the cheek. “Rest up, okay? I’m going to go drive out and get some orange juice for tomorrow morning.” She tucked the blankets more securely around Faith before reluctantly exiting the room. “Call me if you need anything,” she added over her shoulder, “as soon as you need anything, don’t ever not call me if you’re not feeling okay.”

“Gotcha,” said Faith, sounding amused. “I’ll make sure my helicopter mom’s got a landing pad.”

Jenny was still smiling as she headed into her bedroom. Much as she loved wearing at-home clothes and getting to relax, she definitely wasn’t going down to meet Lilah Hot-As-Hell Morgan in sweats and a Sunnydale High t-shirt. After a good five minutes of careful deliberation, she selected a dark red blouse and slacks, combing out her hair so that it fell softly at her shoulders in a way Buffy and Willow liked to call “teacher chic.” She was halfway through applying lipstick when she got a text from Lilah.

in the lobby, u coming down? xx

Jenny gave herself a last, cursory glance in the mirror. Not exactly “alluring, polished detective,” but she was pressed for time and her kid was sick, so it was still pretty good given the circumstances. Donning a pair of low-heeled shoes, she hurried out of her apartment and over to the elevator.

When the elevator doors opened, the first thing Jenny saw was Lilah. She was waiting in the lobby, leaning against the wall and presumably texting someone. Her hair was swept into a stylish updo today, and when she looked up, her eyes were hidden by dark sunglasses.

Damn, thought Jenny again. Aloud, she said, “Glad you could make it.”

Lilah inclined her head in response. Without a word, she turned, exiting the lobby; Jenny had to hurry to follow and fall into step. “I’m sure you’ve discovered by now that Wolfram and Hart is impossible to research,” she said, pocketing her phone as they walked in the direction of a shiny black car. “A lot of work is putting into making sure that their credentials check out in court, but that any and all press about Wolfram and Hart never makes it to print.”

“Why would they want that?” Jenny inquired carefully.

“You’re a smart lady.” Lilah stopped in front of the car, clicking a button on her keys to unlock the door. “I’m pretty sure you already know the answer.”

“I’m pretty sure I do too, I just want to hear you say it first,” said Jenny smoothly, getting into the front seat of Lilah’s car.

Lilah smiled in a way that told Jenny that this was the right thing to say. “Wolfram and Hart doesn’t take on just anyone as clients,” she explained. “If they were known as some kind of prestigious law firm with a reputation of winning all their cases, they would be getting a lot more clients and attention than they wanted. They pick and choose the people who they help out, and those people are always on the wrong side of the law.”

“So Wolfram and Hart wants to protect the bad guys of Los Angeles,” Jenny said, almost a question. “Why?”

“Simply because it’s an incredibly profitable and useful business,” Lilah answered, surprisingly blasé for such a morally awful statement. “They don’t help just any pickpocket or cat burglar, Ms. Calendar; they make sure that their time and money is invested in people who will pay them back later. Maybe it’s in favors, maybe it’s in money, maybe it’s in some rare artifact that a high-up executive feels like bringing up as a conversation piece at dinner parties, but Wolfram and Hart works in the shadows to make sure that the crime in Los Angeles doesn’t go away.”

Something about that sentence struck Jenny as unpleasantly familiar. She mentally filed it away for later contemplation. “Do they use different names in court?” she asked. “Is that how—”

“Oh, no, they’re ridiculously up-front,” Lilah replied, reaching into her bag and handing Jenny a neatly typed list. “Here.”

“And this is?” Jenny scanned the list. Cordelia Chase, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Tara Maclay…

“These are people who Wolfram and Hart want out of the way,” said Lilah. “They know things that could be very dangerous to the firm’s future as a whole, and it’s very likely that Wolfram and Hart is going to try to swoop in and silence them before they can say anything incriminating.” It was impossible to see her eyes behind the sunglasses, but her voice was hesitant and earnest. “They’re good people, Ms. Calendar.”

“So my job is to what, protect these people?” said Jenny uncertainly. “I don’t know if that’s something I can do all that easily.”

“Your job is to locate them and get them to come to Los Angeles, because they sure as hell won’t trust someone like me,” Lilah’s smile faded, becoming something more nervous yet still strangely calculated. “Ms. Calendar—Jenny—I know this isn’t the easiest thing to believe, but I really do want to do good for these people. I have connections. I can at the very least protect them until Wolfram and Hart turns their attention elsewhere.”

“Lilah—” Jenny began.

“I want to get these people to testify against Wolfram and Hart,” Lilah persisted. “They’re the only ones who can take down the company, or at least start some kind of a process to expose it for what it is.”

“This isn’t the kind of thing that I—”

“Please,” said Lilah, and took Jenny’s hand, removing her sunglasses to look at Jenny with long-lashed eyes the color of sea glass.

Unconsciously, Jenny drew in a sharp breath. Lilah’s hand was soft, the fingers long and elegant. Touching her felt like a dizzying electric shock, and, and— “Yes,” Jenny said, only half-aware of what she was agreeing to. This case was a bad idea, probably, if she was already so smitten by this gorgeous mystery of a woman. “Yes. I—I’ll do my best, but I don’t know what I can promise.”

“That you’ll try.” Lilah smiled, beautiful and unreadable once more. “Honestly, Jenny, that’s enough of a promise.”

“Sexy hand-holding.” Rupert sounded very close to laughing.

“How about you shut up?”

“You called me, dear,” Rupert reminded her, “using the exact phrase ‘sexy hand-holding,’ I am allowed to make as much fun of you as I like.” He hesitated, then, “But Faith’s all right?”

“Doing better.” Jenny glanced affectionately over at Faith’s closed bedroom door. “She fell asleep right after she finished her orange juice.”

“Dawn wants to make her a get-well card,” Rupert said fondly. “You’re sure you don’t want me to come over? I can help make soup. You’ll recall—”

“Yeah, yeah, that one time I blew up the microwave trying to reheat a Hot Pocket, you’re literally never going to let me forget that, right?” Jenny leaned against the wall, smiling. “Look, mostly I just wanted to call you to check and see if we could work on the case at my place tomorrow. Faith’ll probably be okay, but—”

“Certainly.” Rupert sounded peaceful and happy, which meant that his kids were probably asleep too. “I can bring soup over.”

“No way, England, I am not having you busting your ass to make soup and drive here at ten PM—”

“Then don’t call me and tell me your daughter’s sick, Jenny,” said Rupert, as though this was blatantly obvious.

“I was calling you to tell you about the sexy hand-holding and the reason I didn’t go to Caritas!” Jenny objected with a laugh. “Look, just, just don’t worry about the soup, okay? I have stuff here, Faith’s going to be crashed on the couch watching movies, just bring over some old case files so we can go through and research the people on Lilah’s list. Or, you know, bring a laptop.”

“You know how I feel about laptops.”

“Yeah, yeah, technophobic Luddite, I know.” Jenny stared out the window of the hallway, looking out at the starlit sky. “Thanks for this.”

“Of course,” said Rupert softly. After a moment, he cleared his throat awkwardly and added, “Get some sleep, all right?”

“You too, Mr. Giles, don’t think that you can fuss over me so much that I forget to look out for you,” Jenny teased. “Let’s say you show up at noon with research snacks and whatever you need to search people up, and I make us a late breakfast?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Rupert agreed. “Goodnight, Calendar.”

“Goodnight, Giles,” Jenny said. She waited for a few more seconds before hanging up; Rupert never hung up before her, and she liked knowing that he was still there on the other end of the line. Then, after she’d hung up, she added, “Snob,” to make herself feel a little less like she was being cheesy and sentimental. Turning away from the window, Jenny pocketed her phone before quietly entering Faith’s room.

Faith was sound asleep, still; she’d fallen asleep halfway through an episode of one of her paranormal mystery documentaries and she hadn’t paused it. Carefully, Jenny turned off the laptop, tucking Faith in and smoothing down her hair. Faith stirred, but didn’t wake, making a sleepy, contented noise and moving towards Jenny’s touch.

“Night,” Jenny whispered, and placed Faith’s laptop safely on her desk, turning off the light as she left the bedroom.

She’d fallen into a holding pattern, these last few weeks, just waiting for someone to walk through the door with a case. She hadn’t been expecting someone as brazen and flirtatious as Lilah, someone who so easily left her breathless, and she certainly hadn’t been expecting Lilah to have a case this genuinely intriguing. Rupert, always cautious, still seemed somewhat unwilling to take Lilah’s words at face value, but Jenny wanted to believe that this kind of thing could be her big break as a detective. This could be the case that helped her make a difference in the world.

Suddenly, abruptly, Jenny was reminded of the last time she’d felt this kind of hope, and she realized just why Lilah’s earlier words had sounded so familiar.

Wolfram and Hart works in the shadows to make sure that the crime in Los Angeles doesn’t go away.

“Darla,” said Jenny, quietly, so as not to wake up her daughter. “Darla got that light sentence,” and she ran for her laptop. Sleep would have to wait.

#fic #regarding honor and honesty in the workplace #fshfldhksfd it's so weird posting this chapter when the plot is like MILES ahead #anyway. strange update schedule ahead probably #at least till i figure out what i'm doing

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bellabooks · 7 years

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“Pretty Little Liars” recap S7 Ep 13: Hold Your Piece

Previously on Pretty Little Liars, Emily was up to her ears in dyke drama and Hanna was attacked by the one thing she loved most: designer shoes. We open at the Hastings barn, where Spencer wakes up to the sound of a crying baby from A.D.’s board game phone. Despite lowering the volume and turning off the phone, the crying persists, driving Spencer nuts. She calls the Liars over (except for Ali, who is Out Of Town this week) and each Liar refuses to take the phone home with them…until Hanna lays her hands on it. Guess it’s Hanna’s turn to play the game. Hanna also says that Alison’s married name, Alison Rollins, sounds like a mouthful of muffin. Incidentally, Mouthful of Muffin sounds like a delightful romantic comedy about two gals who open a bakery together. Okay, the film opens on two cute girls innocently kneading some dough… Hanna’s dress has landed in style sections and blogs, but before she can celebrate, Emily finds a blogger blind item calling the dress stolen. Also, Hanna still hasn’t told Caleb about the board game, which makes no sense…like, he’s been involved in seven years of A shenanigans, why keep him out of the loop now? Spencer is at the Brew, where she runs into Toby, who tells her that Yvonne woke up from her coma. As he rushes back to the hospital, Spencer sees Det. Marco wearing a sweater so tight you can see his nips. He invites her out for a day of awkward flirting, and tells her it will make him feel better for not finding the person who shot her. UGH what is wrong with men. Wanna waste some time with me and my overly sheer sweater? Wanna find the person who shot me? Aria and Hanna decide to track down Sydney to see if she’ll drop a trail of bread crumbs that lead to Jenna. Aria needs the distraction, since every time she turns on the TV she’s met with Nicole and Ezra frolicking in Central Park with their miraculous love. Hanna gets a text from A.D. and there’s an ominous knock at the door. Who could it be? It’s a dummy with Hanna’s face sewn on! The dummy has a cord in the back that, when pulled, tells Hanna to look for the appendix. Hannaquin 2: On the Move! Caleb sees the Hannaquin and immediately knows it’s a classic A move. He pulls out a big ol’ bag of spy stuff for the Liars to stalk Sydney with, and heads to the barn to hack his way into the board game. Meanwhile, Hanna goes through every appendix in every book in the loft, before realizing that it’s of course the Hannaquin’s appendix inside the doll body. Lucas swings by the loft to remind Hanna that they have a meeting with Japanese investors that night. Hanna is pumped for the meeting and ready to show off her designs. What could possibly go wrong? Hanna, I’m not leaving you for this Hannaquin. This beautiful, sexy Hannaquin… There’s also a big chunk of time spent on Marco and Spencer playing ping pong in a children’s after school program, where they flirt and we learn SO MUCH about Marco’s sad childhood. SNOOZE. There’s seven episodes of this series left, and guess what mystery I don’t want solved? Knockoff Toblerone’s sob story. Why are they spending time on this? It’s even more frustrating when we realize that Yvonne is definitely gonna die in this episode. How do we know Yvonne is going to die? Let’s look at the evidence: she spends the entire episode planning her fantasy future with Toby after they have a quickie hospital wedding. Sorry Yvonne, but I know my way around a soap opera, and this is classic soap. It’s been nice knowing you Yvonne. So I’m dying AND I don’t get a love story with Emily? This show sucks. Back at the loft, Hanna has prepped a Dexter-worthy kill room and begins the operation of Hannaquin. She cuts the doll open and removes a bloody plastic bag with a pair of kitchen tongs. The bag contains a dress for her to wear for her investor’s meeting, which can best be described as a racist Halloween costume. Meanwhile, Emily and Aria team up to cyber-stalk Sydney, and find that she’s now a world traveling banker with a swanky apartment in Fishtown (clearly the gayest of the Philadelphia suburbs). They find pics of Sydney taking photos of the senator’s daughter, leading them to believe that she leaked the stolen dress story on Jenna’s behalf. Could Sydney be the second shooter? Could Emily be moving to Fishtown? So many questions, and so few answers. Emily, I promise, once we’re done sleuthing we’ll look for a tasteful two bedroom in Fishtown. Also, I refuse to write more about this Spencer scene, but I just wanted to let you know that I wrote “this guy blows” about Marco no less than three times. Emily and Aria pull up to Sydney’s office, and Aria starts hacking into the office wifi like she’s some sort of Mona. Apparently, Caleb taught her all about hacking in like, an hour, which is surprising to Emily since Aria spent most of 9th grade with her phone on airplane mode. Emily sees Sydney leaving the office and goes to follow her. Emily tries to pretend that she accidently ran into Sydney, but Sydney sees right through her. Emily Fields: great lesbian, horrible liar. She questions Sydney, who reveals that she only took the photos to help Jenna with a practical joke, and that they drifted apart. Likely story. You’re my OKCupid date? I need to move to a town with more than 5 lesbians. Emily hops back in the car with Aria, and they tail Sydney to a vision center, where they overhear her making a deposit for Jenna’s new eyeballs. You know, that old eyeball layaway gambit. Sydney says that the deposit should read from A.D. aka anonymous donor, and Aria realizes that A.D. is paying Jenna off, possibly for luring the Liars to the blind school. The plot thickens! Emily and Aria storm up to Sydney, where Aria Montgomery of all people plays the bad cop! She slams Sydney into the wall and demands to know what she’s hiding. Damn, where’s this girl been for seven seasons? Sydney says that the deposit was just a favor for one of the bank’s clients, and warns the Liars to stay away from Jenna. Aria hands her back her yoga bag, and Sydney says “Namaste, bitch” which is delightful. Sydney also calls Aria a chihuahua, which is hilarious because they both have big eyes and look constantly scared. What dogs would the other Liars be? Emily would probs be an Irish Setter, Hanna would be a fancy poodle, and Spencer would be an Weimaraner. Mona would obviously be a Persian cat. In the kerfuffle, Aria planted a tracker in Sydney’ bag, so they can keep tabs on her. These two are giving me serious Cagney and Lacey vibes. I came here to date creepers and kick ass, and I’m all out of creepers! JK they’re everywhere. Spencer arrives home to find Caleb examining the board game. He is literally examining it with a stethoscope, which looks ridiculous. Maybe after he’s done he’ll give the board game a lollipop. Spencer and Caleb haven’t really spent any time together since they broke up, but they both agree that they want to be friends, and then remark over how easy it is to go back to normal. This is bananas, because no one would be that blasé about screwing their best friend’s boyfriend. Some of us still hide behind cars/fruit stands/other people when we see our exes, I’m just sayin’. Who knew these props from our Grey’s Anatomy roleplay would come in handy? Before they can share a drink and reminisce about the times before they boned, Caleb pries up a piece of the board game and gets blasted in the face with poison gas. He starts choking, and Spencer calls 911. Damn, this board game is elaborate. I would not be surprised if this thing grew teeth and tried to take a bite out of the Liars at this point. Hanna shows up at Radley wearing a trench coat over her terrible dress. She tells Lucas that no matter what goes down in the meeting, she’ll always be grateful to him for taking a chance on her and being such a good friend. Before the meeting can even start, she finds out that Caleb is in the hospital and splits, leaving Lucas with her dresses and sketches. Caleb is recuperating in the hospital when Hanna rushes in. He’s worried that A.D. will be angry about her messing up the game, but Hanna doesn’t care. She later gets a text saying she won’t be getting a puzzle piece, which, whatever. The Liars talk about how unfair the game is, and realize that the goal of the game is to keep them off-kilter and bickering at each other. Spencer goes to visit Yvonne, only to find a devastated Toby: Yvonne is dead. Aria arrives home to Ezra’s apartment and sees a shadowing figure waiting for her. She grabs a knife, but it turns out to be Nicole. Chihuahua powers activate! Det. Marco opens an envelope from A.D. that contains a moldy old severed finger. Is it from Mrs. DiLaurentis? Or Bethany Young? Or some other dead person? Tune in next week, when we find out who killed Jessica DiLaurentis, and just how much gas is in that board game. Tweet me your feels/Liar-dog pairings at @ChelseaProcrast http://dlvr.it/P3hJ1d

#Television #PLL #Pretty Little Liars

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