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bvckys-doll · 3 years

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Masquerade

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 4.4k

Summary: Y/N and her family are invited to a masquerade ball since Netherfield hall has a new owner: Lord James Buchanan Barnes. What (Y/N) does not know is that this will be her last night among the living.

Warnings: soft!dark themes here! A bit of manipulation. Blood! Pride and Prejudices vibes at the beginning of the fic.

Author’s note: I’m happy that I can finally post this one because I’m a whore for masquerade balls and vampires! Especially Vampire!Bucky! This goes out to @emily-roberts (who can’t be tagged unfortunately) since they inspired me to work on Masquerade here! Maybe this will get a sequel, i’m not sure yet.

You can find my masterlist here!

The year is 1867. Queen Victoria is still in power, and the country is at peace. At least, to the people who are lucky enough to live in the countryside in England. Especially the women who were the ones that learned the least of the ongoing problems around the world. At this time in history, they were mostly excluded from these kinds of conversations. Something (Y/N) was deeply offended by.

Most of the women around her had only one thing on their mind: the latest gossip and men.

Nothing would fit better into the gossip than a mysterious lord who had recently moved into the large estate near Netherfield Park. The whole city was in turmoil, and everyone wanted to get one of the coveted invitations to the grand inauguration party.

(Y/N) could still remember the day a few weeks ago when her mother was running around the house in a rage and talking to herself over and over again. Her father had tried to ignore his wife as much as possible.

“I have heard from Mrs. Brenstock that the new Lord of Netherfield Park is about to give a ball. A ball, Mr. Edwards! Can you imagine that? He doesn’t seem to have sent out any invitations yet, otherwise, we would have gotten one by now, wouldn’t we? Tell me I’m right” she had let herself sink into her chair. With the thick needle in her hand, she repeatedly stabbed her new embroidery cloth.

(Y/N) had been sitting across from her mother at the time and hardly noticed her rambling about the ball, as the young lady was too absorbed in her thoughts about her newest book, which was on the table in front of her.

For her mother, this was finally the chance to marry her off to a rich man. Perhaps even to the owner of the estate himself, since many speculated him to be single. Most women of (Y/N)’s age were already married, some even had children.

It wasn’t that (Y/N) wasn’t very talkative. If she was given a suitable subject, she could chat for hours, but her mother had always preached to her that no man wanted a woman with a loud attitude. Despite all this, (Y/N) didn’t kept her mouth shut and spoke freely about what she thought. Mostly.

It had been a month since that conversation between her parents and (Y/N) was now sitting with them in a carriage on their way to the estate of the new lord of Netherfield Park.

The letter had arrived about two days after the long discussion between her mother and her quiet father. (Y/N) seemed to be more relieved than her mother because she couldn’t bear her constant chatting and complaining about the ball.

In her lap was a white mask that her mother had brought home a few days ago. A masquerade. That was the order of the new landlord. An unusual way to celebrate a party, where you wanted to get to know the locals better, but (Y/N) didn’t put much thought into it.

With a calm look, she peered out of the window of the carriage and could see how the estate grew in the distance. The lights were shining through the high windows towards them as they rode the carriage to the large courtyard, where some other women were already getting out of their carriages and ascending the great marble staircase with their families.

Her father was the first to go out of the carriage, before he helped his wife out. In the end, he reached out to his daughter. For a brief moment, (Y/N) struggled with the wide skirt of her dress, before standing firmly on the ground.

Once again, she let her gaze wander over the courtyard and looked up at the broad facade of the estate. Suddenly (Y/N) caught a glimpse of a silhouette. Someone who seemed to be looking down at them and was watching what was going on. But before (Y/N) could take a closer look, her mother grabbed her arm and dragged her into the hall.

Upstairs in the said room, James watched how the carriages gathered in the courtyard and presented the different guests of almost every status. All came to see some of the wealth of the estate and the treasures that were on display in its halls.

“How many people will visit us tonight? Take a guess” Steve asked him. He was sitting at his best friend’s desk and had put his feet on the tabletop while he leaned back.

James’s gaze was still on the staircase as his gaze followed the woman who had just looked up at him. Yet he replied, “More than two hundred, I would say. Enough to get our bellies full for the next month. You’re going to keep them under control, aren’t you? We need posts at every door.”

“Of course. I’ve never worked sloppy before. You should know that”, Steve winked at him before he stood up and drained the last remaining blood out of his cup. The next moment he pulled some gloves out of his jacket and put them on “But answer me one. Why a masquerade?”

“You don’t want anyone to remember us by mistake, do you?”, a dark smile grazed James features. A similar smile came up on Steve’s face before he pulled the mask over his eyes and left.

In the meantime, the large ballroom of the estate had filled with guests and a small orchestra on a raised balcony played quiet music.

With all the hustle, (Y/N) wondered if she would even recognize anyone. The masks just made it harder to spot anyone she knew. Maybe she could get away from her mother. Time and time again she looked for familiar eyes.

Nervously, she again smoothed the wrinkles of her skirt and chewed around her lower lip. With each breath, it seemed to her as if the corsage of her dress was still lacing up.

Before her inner rambling could cause her to make her more uncomfortable, the hitting of a staff made the crowd go quiet. Everyone held their breath and turned to the source of the voice “Please welcome Lord James Buchanan Barnes and Colonel Steven Grant Rogers!”

The guests applauded in honour of the two men who were standing on a raised platform at the end of the hall. One of them stepped forward and raised his wine glass. (Y/N) couldn’t make out his features. Still, he wore a fancy dark suit with a wine-red tie. His slightly longer hair was tied with a ribbon in the back of his head. Although (Y/N) couldn’t see his eyes, they seemed pitch black.

“It is an honour to welcome you all to my new home. Until now, I have been welcomed with kindness in this beautiful little town and I am very happy to get to know you all better soon. I haven’t even lived here for a month, but it already feels like home to me. Let us all enjoy this evening. Sing, laugh and dance!”, his voice echoed through the room. It gave (Y/N) goosebumps.

He raised his glass to which his guests responded with the same gesture before they all took a sip of their drinks. It took less than five seconds, and the conversations were resumed. It was as if that greeting had never happened.

But (Y/N) could not take her eyes of her host. This was the person she had previously seen standing at the window. Before she could look away from him, he had already noticed her and seemed to reply to her stare. She tensed.

She hastily looked at the wine glass in her hand, from which she quickly took a short sip. The music started again. This time a bit louder than before because the guests began to dance. It wouldn’t take long for her mother to approach her once again and tell her daughter to find a suitable dance partner for the night.

“Do you see that woman over there? The one in the red dress and the white mask”, Bucky walked next to Steve as they made their way through the guests, who all respectfully stepped aside and bowed. Again and again, the two nodded to some people appreciatively.

Steve followed his friend’s gaze unobtrusively and nodded briefly “Pretty little thing. Do you want to go play or save her all to yourself for the night?”

“I haven’t decided yet, but I am sure going to do something with her”, he winked at Steve and stopped at the edge of the dance floor, watching his guests dance. Shortly thereafter, Steve also left him to dance with his wife Margaret, who approached them.

While his friends were busy having fun at the party, James resumed his search for the woman he had just spotted. It did not take long for him to find her her standing next to an elderly couple, who seemed to have an exciting conversation with two other guests. The woman herself didn’t seem very interested in the conversation and kept sipping on her glass. That was his cue.

(Y/N) gave out a soft sigh and investigated her wine glass, which would soon be empty. She listened with one ear to the conversation of her parents but did not attempt to participate herself. The unknown woman just boasted how her daughter had married a wealthy man from Oxford some time ago and now lived there. (Y/N) was already getting ready for a sermon from her mother.

Once again, the young woman raised her glass to her red lips as suddenly-

“Excuse me if I bother you but would you do me the honour of dancing with me?” said a deep voice to her, which seemed quite familiar to (Y/N). Her gaze wandered from her glass to the chest of the man standing before her. Her breath was stunted. It was Lord Barnes looking down at her with a gentle smile on his lips. He held out his hand to her, but (Y/N) couldn’t take her eyes off him.

For a moment, it seemed as if (Y/N) had forgotten to have a normal and decent conversation when her mother stepped in and tore the glass out of her hand “She would be honoured to dance with you, Lord Barnes.”

A charming smile spread across his lips as her mother said so. But he turned his gaze to (Y/N) again and asked for her approval “I hope that is indeed the case.”

(Y/N) blinked. Once, twice.

“Yes, I would very much like to dance with you”, she now agreed herself and took his hand, which he still held out to her. He gently drew her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her hand “What a relieve.”

It was not only her mother who lost her breath at this gesture. Like in a trance, (Y/N) followed her new dance partner onto the wide dance floor, where people automatically made room for them in awe. Soon he stopped with her in the middle of the dance floor and pulled her to his chest, where she instinctively assumed her posture and placed her hand on his shoulder.

Slowly the music started anew. A slow waltz. Controlled, he guided her through the room, and it seemed as if (Y/N) had never done anything else in her life. Every step was exactly as it should be. It was as if they were floating over the dance floor. At least, it seemed like that to her.

“I hope I didn’t take you by surprise”, James remarked, looking down at his dance partner, who focused her eyes on his chest. The reason behind it was the fact that he was a lot taller than her.

Hastily (Y/N) shook her head as her cheeks heated up “Not at all, my lord. I was just surprised, that’s all. There are so many beautiful young women here, I wondered why you chose me.”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have just chosen the prettiest in the room”, James replied, presenting her his charming smile, which made his eyes light up for a second. (Y/N)’s knees got soft. It seemed liked she had been enchanted by his aura.

It wasn’t long before the music became quieter and stopped. Together with the other couples, they stopped and applauded the musicians before James gave her his arm and whispered to her “Would you like to accompany me outside? It seems to be getting a little stuffy in here.”

A lie. It’s been years since James truly breathed air.

“I would love to.”, (Y/N) nodded and took shelter with her host before following him out onto the wide terrace. On their way there, (Y/N) did not notice James meeting the eyes of one of his men. It was Sam who stood near the exit and smiled at his friend. He knew James had found someone new to play with. If only it were for tonight.

“A beautiful night, don’t you think?” James looked up to the sky, where thousands of stars were glowing. It was more common here in the countryside. In the cities, the stars could be barely seen by the smoke rising through the chimneys into the sky.

(Y/N) followed his gaze and leaned forward against the wide stone railing. She nodded back, “Yes, it is. You haven’t seen such a sight very often, have you? I mean, I heard you moved out of town. What prompted you to do this?”

“The war and tranquillity I am looking for”, James replied honestly this time and turned his gaze back to (Y/N), who was still looking up at the stars, but noticed how he looked at her with his eyes: “You haven’t told me your name yet.”

“You didn’t ask for it either”, (Y/N) replied quick and smiled.

Oh, she’s cheeky. I like that.

He laughed for a moment and neck before he asked, “May I know your name, milady?”

At last, she looked at him again and her eyes shone as she replied with a smile, “My name is (Y/N). And I’m not a lady, my lord.”

The tension she had felt before in his presence was blown away. She felt comfortable in his presence, but she couldn’t explain why. He radiated a certain calmness that made her feel safe and comfortable.

He tilted his head to the side as he smiled, “The name suits you. But tell me, (Y/N), why would a pretty woman like you be alone with your parents at a party like this? There must be a man in your life.”

“Why? Because a woman like me needs a man?” she answered with a counter-question. She wondered how long he would put up with it. But it seemed that the remark would excited him more.

He raised an eyebrow, to which she smiled briefly and replied honestly, “I have a mind of my own, as my mother says. Most men don’t like this feature very well. In our small town, they want a woman who makes a man look good. She has to be pretty and smart, but not too smart for her to make the man look stupid. She needs to be educated, but not waste too much time on it. The piano is very popular with most men.”

“Women who only deal with the latest gossip have never really interested me. Besides, I like to talk to women who can keep up with my intellect. Someone like you”, James replied honestly again, leaning his hip against the stone wall to take a close look at her.

As (Y/N) fixed her posture to look him right in the eye, he stepped foward. He gently raised his hand and put his index finger under her chin to raise it so that she could not take her eyes off of him, “Men can be stubborn, especially English men. But we Americans love it when a woman has something more on her mind than piano notes and pretty clothes. How boring it would be to have someone with you who only agrees with everything you say. I have met lots of these women, but I have seldom encountered someone like you.”

Smiling, (Y/N) held his gaze as he took his hand from her chin and took her hand in his. She looked down for a moment but did not attempt to let go.

“You’re the first man to say something like that to me, and you seem to mean it”, she smiled and briefly squeezed his hand. From the gloves he was wearing, she didn’t even notice how cold they were. Once again, he put her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of her hand, “I am glad to see my presence and my personality please you, Lady (Y/N).”

“As I said, I’m not a lady”, she laughed softly as her cheeks heated up once more. The smile on his lips made her knees soft again, “To me, you are one.”

With every moment that passed, he liked the young woman more and more. Something he didn’t expect. It was selfish, but he knew then and there he wouldn’t let her go. Not as fast as he had planned. It would be difficult to inspire her for eternity once he had done it.

A life like him could also be lonely and desolate. Many souls had already gone mad after being transformed and being unable to return to the world of the living. It drove them mad. He wouldn’t let his (Y/N) go crazy. Not so easily.

“My Lord?” her sweet voice tore him from the thoughts that were swirling through his head. His gaze fell back on her as she gave him a worried look. He gently brushed a strand of her hair from her face and smiled calmly, “Forgive me, I was in my head.”

“Do you think maybe we should go back to the hall? Your guests would also like to exchange a few words with you. I don’t want to besiege you forever”, (Y/N) glanced over her bare shoulder and looked at the tinted glass doors that shielded her from the guests. Many couples were on the dance floor together and seemed cheerful.

“I think my guests will be able to be just fine without my constant presence for a while. Besides, it would be a lie if I said I didn’t want to spend some more time with you”, he replied, following her gaze briefly before turning her gaze to him.

It seemed almost supernatural to (Y/N) that a man like Lord Barnes would take such an interest in her, but it was mutual. She didn’t want to leave him. Not yet. She was delighted with his company and gave him a warm smile before she replied, “And it would be a lie if I said I am not pleased by your interest.”

A burst of hearty laughter came over James' lips. It had been a long time since he had heard such words that had truly touched him. Smiling, he held her hand that was still in his, before leading (Y/N) from the terrace into the wide garden, where many lanterns illuminated their path.

(Y/N) had already placed her hand on his arm and followed him through the small maze that stood in the middle of the garden. The tall hedges shielded them from curious eyes as they disappeared deeper and deeper into the maze.

“My parents will probably be wondering where I am”, (Y/N) smiled as she followed James through the hedges, still holding his hand tightly in fear she could lose him. Apparently, he knew his way around the maze very well, for he guided them safely to a small square that marked the middle of the maze.

In the middle of the square stood a beautifully decorated pavilion, clad in red and white roses and ivy trees. James led her there and sat down with her on one of the two benches.

“Your parents know you’re in good hands with me. I would never allow anything…bad to happen to you”, James merely replied. (Y/N) couldn’t have known that evil himself was still holding her hand and concealing his cruel nature with a pretty face. He could feel her heartbeat speeding up a bit.

“You know, (Y/N), a life like mine. . . is very lonely”, he told her, looking at the flowers hanging next to him on a pole. Yet he noticed how her gaze stuck to him. In a calm voice he continued, “Although I am very wealthy and have seen so much of the world, I have been missing someone to share this life with for years. Someone who accepts me for who I am and doesn’t want to be with me just for my money and my land. Do you understand what I mean?”

His gaze fell back on her. (Y/N)’s eyes almost pierced through his head as her eyes turned glassy. A soft sigh escaped her as she gazed down into her lap.

“I understand you very well. Even though my mother’s efforts are straining me a lot, I still want someone who. . . likes me for me. Who wants me. Not for my dowry, but for myself. I have never spoken to someone who understands me as well. . . as you do”, she replied, being astonished at her words.

James Barnes was the first man she could talk to without having to pretend. Her slightly rough nature had not deterred him. He had been tenacious, but still kind and attentive. It’s been a long time since she met someone like him. His personality seemed to drew her even closer to him. As if there was an invisible ribbon, which now tied her to him.

“You are so much more than just your dowry and a pretty face, (Y/N). Maybe it’s too hasty, but it would be a pleasure for me to get to know you better. The real (Y/N), who doesn’t have to act and doesn’t want to impress anyone. I already know you a little, but. . . not quite yet”, he stroked her cheek, giving her goosebumps. In a good way.

A short smile grazed her lips as she put her hand on his, “I would also like to get to know you better, my lord.”

“Please call me James. The title is too formal for me”, he smiled gently at her and ran his thumb over her cheekbones as (Y/N) muttered softly, “As you wish,…James.”

Slowly, he noticed her pulse increasing. He looked her in the eyes again as he got closer, and she could feel his cold breath on her skin. For a brief moment, it seemed like a dream to her, but it became reality at the moment as his lips touched hers. (Y/N) froze. She wasn’t expecting that. Not yet.

Immediately he broke away from the kiss and pulled his hand from her cheek, “Sorry, that was a little too hasty of me.”

If there was still blood flowing through his body, he’d be blushed. For the first time in a long time, he seemed nervous and ran his fingers through his hair. But (Y/N) grabbed his hand and shook her head calmly, “No, please. I was just…surprised that you…feel that way about me.”

“You’re just…so different. In a positive way, of course”, he held her hand and squeezed it briefly once when (Y/N) was the one who came a little closer and leaned forward, “No, you must forgive me. I didn’t mean to reject you. I like you…very much.”

Now James knew it was the right time.

Slowly he leaned over to her and kissed her gently on the mouth. Sighing her eyes closed as the young lady returned his kiss a little cautiously. After all, he had more experience in it than she did. But only now did (Y/N) realize how cold he was. It’s almost freezing.

“James, you’re so cold”, (Y/N) gently detached herself from the kiss and held her lips as he stroked her cheek and put a strand behind her ear: “Don’t worry. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Once again, he conquered her lips and pulled her closer to his chest. A little more courageously, (Y/N) grabbed the collar of his suit and pulled him closer. She closed her eyes again as he slowly continued to kiss her but wandered from her cheek down to her throat. Her eyes remained closed as she enjoyed his kisses on her warm skin. His lips were still cold, but now she did not seem to care anymore.

Soon he could hear her rapid heartbeat as he lavished kisses on her neck. (Y/N) did not notice how his eyes darkened and his teeth stretched into pointed pillars.

For a moment, James wrestled with himself over whether he should really kill her or go even further. Still, one thing was very clear. (Y/N) would never see the light of day again.

"Forgive me." he breathed against her soft skin and closed his eyes before placing his hand over her mouth. Before (Y/N) could even realize what was happening to her, he rammed his teeth into her neck. Her scream was stifled by his hand, but her body didn't give up so quickly. Panicked, she pushed and pounded against his chest as James sucked the blood from her body. But all her attempts did her no good, as he was far too strong for her.

Finally, she slumped lifelessly in his arms and sank against his chest. Sighing, James detached himself from her neck and pressed another soft kiss to the wound where his teeth had pierced her skin moments ago.

Gently he laid the young woman on the bench and pushed her hair out of her face. Carefully he untied the ribbon at the back of her head and pulled the mask from her face.

"Just as I imagined, my darling..." he ran his thumb over her lower lip and looked into her lifeless eyes before pulling his own mask off his face and tossing it on the floor beside him.

He took her hand in his and kissed the back of her hand, "I'll take care of you, my angel. No one will ever be able to hurt you again. We'll be together forever."

#vampire!bucky barnes #soft dark theme #soft dark #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #female reader #winter soldier #marvel #mcu #dont repost #fanfiction #own gif #giphy #masquerade

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dangerouslyallaboutdraco · 3 years

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With Me

A/n: post hogwarts, lots of muggle references, mostly fluff but sexual connotations towards the end

"You're coming out tonight, right, Y/n?" Draco asked Y/n from across the lunch table.

The six of them; Draco, Pansy, Theo, Daphne, Blaise and Y/n, were sat in one of their favourite muggle London lunch spots. It was not too far from the ministry of magic where they were all employed and they served the most delicious sandwiches.

Theo and Pansy both gave them the side-eye, the couple insinuating something to Y/n. “Yeah, sure.” It would be their usual Friday night at their local pub or maybe club, where they would mix with the muggles in an attempt to override the hatred their parents built into them.

It was the same thing every week and it was a tradition none of them ever wanted to break. Blaise would bring his wife Luna, Daphne her muggle boyfriend Jack, Theo and Pansy together always, Draco, and Y/n.

“We should go back,” Daphne mentioned, picking up her water bottle and getting up from the table.

The rest of the group followed her, getting up and making the walk back to their offices.

The rest of their days did drag on, as Friday’s usually do. Although it seemed Pansy had been busy from the look of the ‘official’ memo she sent out to the other members of the group, letting them know that instead of a pub they would be going to the theatre. It wasn’t their usual plans which excited Y/n and by the look of it, Draco sitting across the board room table from her.

When they were finally finished with work and had returned home to change into some more appropriate nightwear clothing, they met up at Blaise and Luna’s house which was well out in the country.

“Are we ready to go now?” Pansy asked, rallying the group once Daphne and Jack had finally arrived late as usual.

“I still don’t get why we’re not just going out clubbing.” Draco moaned, his green velvet suit looking very dapper.

Pansy rolled her eyes at him, they had always had a relationship of siblings and she was acting like the elder now. “Because you don’t need more numbers of girls in your phone. That’s not what phones are for.”

He huffed in return and used the floo powder to travel to London.

The city always seemed to be bustling and Y/n had to take a minute to take it all in once they got there. Draco was the only one who noticed, pulling her to get her out of the way of other pedestrians.

“Watch out, love.” He said softly, his arm still on her waist. His gentle nature was something new, only developing with the people he loved, after Hogwarts.

“Sorry.” She stuttered out, trying not to blush with him around.

He smiled his soft little smile. “Don’t apologise, you ready to go?” Draco asked, finally turning his head away from her and to the rest of their group who were walking ahead of them.

Y/n nodded and the pair continued walking behind them almost together but just far enough it could be seen as coincidental to their friends.

Once they were finally at the theare, Draco brought them all a round of drinks. His new soft nature led to him doing things like that as well; rounds of drinks, dinners, parties and fancy birthday presents.

They all drank a lot. Round after rounds as they watched the play. And like normal they had a great night.

“We’re going now, do you want to come to our and take the floor to your place?” Pansy and Theo offered Y/n, knowing she was the only woman in their group leaving alone.

Y/n was feeling rather like puking from all the alcohol now in her system and an hour ride with Pansy and Theo making out was not appealing. “No, thanks. I’m just going to take a cab home.” She told them.

“Alone? That’s not a good idea, come with us.” Pansy defended, always the good friend.

“I’ll come with you,” Draco said, suddenly next to her and wrapping his arm around her. Pansy subtly raised her eyebrows. “And then go back to my place.” He added, noticing Pansy’s expression.

Y/n shrugged, hoping the answer was good enough for Pansy and Theo to let her go without them, then she could convince Draco to let her go alone and have a peaceful taxi ride to her place.

Pansy agreed, letting them walk off to the taxi. It wasn’t hard for them to find one and Y/n got in.

“You don’t have to come with me, Dray, I can get home myself.” She told him quickly but he ignored her, getting in the car next to her. “Fine then.” She mumbled.

He rolled his eyes but smiled. “I’m not going to let you go home by yourself.”

Y/n just looked at him, with a glare before turning her attention back to the cab driver and telling him her address.

The cab ride was much shorter than the one to Pansy and Theo’s, only 10 minutes she had to sit in that cab with Draco and stare out the window.

Once they got to her apartment Draco followed her closely inside. She got to the door and unlocked it, turning back to look at Draco. “Come in.”

He obliged, walking in and taking off his coat and walking over to her wine fridge. “What are you doing?” She asked him.

He didn’t reply, he just got out some vodka he could find. “Why do you keep it in here? That’s weird.” He continued to fumble his way around her kitchen getting some glasses.

“Personal preference.” She shrugged, taking a seat on her couch.

Draco walked over, giving her a glass and sitting next to her with his own. They sat together in silence, drinking far too much vodka added on to their previous drinks.

Y/n finished the drink before Draco, putting her glass on the table before getting up to go off to her bedroom. “You can go whenever.” She told him as he looked up at her. Something came over her and she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, something she’d only ever done once before.

She didn’t stick around to see how Draco reacted, she just sautered off. After she changed into a satin set of pjammas, she got into bed and sat up against the headboard, reading a few pages of the book she was trying to get through.

Draco peaked around the corner of her door with a slight tap on the doorframe. “What are you reading?” He asked her, walking over closer to her so he could get a look at the pages.

“Just a muggle book.” She commented, flipping him the cover to look at. He hummed in agreement and it was only then that she noticed how close he was to her, she could almost feel his breath on her neck.

He stood there for probably a few seconds too long. “I’m going to go.” He said, pulling himself away from her. It was like he was magnitised and every time he had to go it was painful.

Neither of them expected what happened next, her hand reached out to grab his. “Stay.” It was the only word he ever wanted to hear leave those soft, parted lips in such a delicate way.

He didn’t argue he just nodded and went to her ensuite to get undressed. When he came back she was still sitting in bed but it was obvious she had been watching for him to come out, her eyes darting back to the page.

“Guest room?” Draco asked, he was admiring her closed now. Taking in her cheekbones and perfect nose. She looked prettier than ever now, no makeup, no fancy dresses, she was just her.

She shook her head at his question. “Stay with me.” Those were the words he was waiting to hear. “If you don’t mind.” She quickly added, hoping that he wouldn’t.

“Not at all, my sweet girl.” ‘My’, he really said ‘my.’ Y/n was trying not to look at how beautiful Draco was, standing in front of her in just his underwear. She had seen him this intimately before, once back at Hogwarts but he was more built now. The lower amount of stress and consistent eating really looked good on him.

He could tell she was admiring him and the tension in the air was building. But he let it go as he slipped into the covers next to her. They almost couldn’t resist touching one another.

Y/n made the first move. She quickly swung her legs over his hips, so she was stradderling him. He didn’t stop her for a second, all he did was lean up and placed his hands on her cheeks before kissing her with more passion than she’d ever experienced.

She returned the heated kiss, messily smashing her lips onto his. It was the perfect mix of passionate and built-up tension they’ve had for years.

“I’ve loved you forever.” He pulled back to smile at the gorgeous woman sitting on his lap.

“Draco.” She smiled. “I’ve loved you even longer.”

He flipped her over so she was now lying down and he was on top of her. “Nuh-uh.”

She retaliated by using all her body weight to flip him back over, although she was convinced he was allowing her to because he was far physically stronger. “Yuh-huh.” She replied with a wide smile.

He repeated the same move but flipped her the opposite way, smartly pinning her hands above her head so she couldn’t move. She wiggled around a bit, playfully squirming around. “You’re a little minx, aren’t you?” He grinned as he traced his fingers down from her lips.

“Draco, do something.” She pleaded as she thrust her hips out, his finger close but just not close enough to where she really needed him.

And that was enough to get Draco to be with her.

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silversatin2105 · 3 years

Text

Shaman king Fan fic : A Case of mistaken Identity

This fic has two ends to read to the bottom, This covers a scenario between a Fem- Reader deciding their future list of characters featured below.

Yoh Asakura

Hao Asakura

Anna Kyoyama / Asakura

Fem- Reader

Now with that out of the way enjoy the fic

Main scenario: The ribbon of Destiny

You had been friends with Yoh for four months, Ever since you met him on monument hill one fateful night as you were there to attend to the grave of one of your ancestors, It would have been a brief conversation until you said “By the way can you see that samurai” with those words Yoh’s interest was peeked, For the rest of the night Yoh and you talked He explained that he was a shaman and the samurai explained that he was Amidamaru who had became Yoh’s spirit ally when their goals aligned.

You agreed to meet with Yoh on a nightly basis and so you did, It was a month into these evening meet ups that you noticed you were beginning to have feelings for him however you knew about Anna and she knew about you, Anna did not like these meet ups I mean she really didn’t like them as she punished Yoh for meeting up with you like that, Even though he assured her that it wasn’t like that.

Everything came to a head the night after the comet of destiny appeared, Anna caught you confessing your feelings to Manta, The next thing you felt was the sharp sting of a hand across your cheek and the harsh words that were spoken “I forbid you from seeing Yoh ever again, I will let you go with just this but if you show your face here again I will make sure you suffer in your afterlife”

With these harsh words you broke into tears, Nothing could console you and you knew this would be the only outcome for not dampening these feelings, you KNEW that Yoh and Anna were meant to be but stupidly you held up hope that he would reciprocate those feelings, After that you dropped out of the school you all attended and started attending a school in your district, Any spirits you made friends with in your brief moments in Yoh’s life you ignored and for the most part you returned to the world you came from.

Half a month had passed since you had saw Yoh and you were back to your old life, You studied in your free time for your finals and you focused yourself on getting into a good college as you went back to your primary goal of getting a degree in (Insert what you want to do here), It was late as you left cram school and you knew it was your turn to pick up ingredients for the evening meal as you left the store with meat and rice for the dinner you spot a familiar face, It couldn’t be, Yoh ?

Without a moments thought you ran towards the familiar figure “Yoh, are you alright?, Its been awhi” your words were cut short as you dawned on your mistake, The person in front of you did indeed look like your one time crush but he was different, You could not see warmth in his face and as you looked into his face you noticed a deep sadness, Your thoughts trailed on as you had noticed you hadn’t spoke since the hick up you only snapped back when the figure in front of you began to speak.

“Hello miss you seem to have spaced out there, Are you okay?” He enquired as you stepped back from him; you collected your self and did a bow of apology.

“I’m sorry you look a lot like someone I used to know” You managed to speak out, your face turning red as you hid in the folds of your scarf, Something must have amused the familiar stranger as he burst into a mocking laugh, He gripped his sides as he continued to laugh.

“Wow the people in this country really are polite” He remarked whilst regaining his composure, Soon after he stopped laughing he introduced himself as Hao, The future king , this statement you found strange but you put it to the back of your mind as one of his eccentricities.

He asked you to meet him tomorrow night at the same time to which you agreed with caution, You made your way home to which you were scolded for being back late after your apologies and a bath you went to bed with so many questions on your mind.

Throughout the next day you couldn’t focus at school, Were you actually going to meet up with that Hao guy or were you going to go straight home and forget your encounter with him, Every hour that passed you flitted between your going and your not going with one final decision and out of actual curiosity you agreed to meet up with Hao.

Walking thought the darkening streets you found your way back to where just a day ago you met Hao, He waited there for you and offered you a sat by him, After a brief conversation in which you asked him the important questions of why he asked to meet you and what was his intentions he stood up and brushed himself off.

“If you want to know, Walk with me” Hao spoke out whilst walking away from you as you stood to follow and within no time the streets turned into woodland, If you weren’t curious about what he had to offer, This would be the part where you would book it and go home but still your curiosity still had a hold on you.

After walking for what felt like an hour you both came to a clearing that was far from town, Hao stopped walking and turned to face you with an eyebrow raised as he crossed his arms and sat on the floor.

“Before I tell you what I have to say I must find out if I can trust you, What are your intentions with the one called Yoh” He questioned in a tone that you knew if you answered with anything less that the truth would lead to dire consequences.

“I bare Yoh no ill will, I used to have feelings for him but I knew that it was stupid to, we have not spoke since his fiancé told me to back off, I went back to my life and that’s, that” you answered looking Hao dead in the eye, Your heart pounding in fear of what could happen, Its true that he looked like Yoh but you could sense he was a different kind of person, With Yoh you knew he’d never hurt you but with this person you were sure he’d kill you if you put a toe out of line.

“I see, So you have no ties to him at this moment in time” He asked.

“No like I said I have not seen him since Anna scolded me” You replied.

Hao then stood up and paced around looking deep in thought “Usually id kill any outsider that would be threat to my plans, But I find you interesting so ill let you live, Spirit of fire, this girl isn’t to be touched” you wondered what he meant with that, You were about to enquire when before you appeared to be a red demon cloaked in flames offering its hand to Hao.

“Now if you wish to know more, Meet me here tomorrow night If not go back to your life and I assure you we will not meet again” Hao remarked before disappearing from your sight, You found your way back to town and went home to mull things over.

I could not decide on what the reader would decide so to end the argument I will dedicate a page each to 2 sub scenarios 1 in which the reader doesn’t follow Hao and 1 where she does and you can decide which 1 you like the best

Scenario diverge: Plume of white Daisies.

(This scenario covers the reader’s choice in remaining at home and the results of this action)

There was no way you could go with him, Hao may have spared your life but that did not mean you owed him anything, You owed it to yourself to put this whole incident behind you and be content that for a brief time in your life you were a minor character in something important.

The next day at school all who knew you were shocked out of speaking, You walked into class and took your seat as one of your classmates broke the silence.

“why did you cut your hair? (insert name),I thought you were growing it” they asked as you looked at them with a warm smile and replied whilst opening your text book.

“I Just fancied a change of pace”

Years passed and the brief time you spent as part of the shaman world had faded from your mind, You were now an adult and now worked in the field of your dreams and were engaged to your S/O who you met whilst studying for your (insert field) Degree, You no longer lived in your hometown as you had to go where the work was however you returned every summer and winter for a week.

During one of your returns to your hometown you decided to visit the grave of your ancestor, not much had changed since your last visit there other than the fact that the grave looked to be attended to frequently and that Daises had began to grow upon the grave.

As you left the old graveyard, You spot a familiar face in the distance approaching a group of people, You came to recognise the tallest one as your long lost school crush and the other as you presumed right now wife, A little boy clings to the legs of his mother.

With a slight nod to them both you make your way back to your parents home, Petals of daises fill the air as you walk towards the future.

End Scene

Scenario Diverge: Scent of hibiscus

(this covers the readers choice to follow Hao and the results of this action)

The morning after you were given the ultimatum from Hao, whether to remain in your world or follow him into the dangerous world of shamans and spirit fight, your mind was made up, You would follow Hao and learn what you could of the world he lives in.

It was early morning as you checked downstairs to make sure the house was empty, It was as your parents had left for work, You began packing a bag of the things you thought you would need and you wrote letters to your loved ones explaining that you were okay and that you didn’t want to be found.

When night approached you stood where Hao told you to meet him, you held you packed bag on one shoulder as you paced waiting for him hoping it wasn’t a trick, hoping that you didn’t need to go home and awkwardly say that your letters were a prank.

“Ahh you showed up, Right choice” You heard a familiar voice say as you turned to face Hao.

“Yes I did now show me what’s to be done”

You spoke out before you both disappeared into the night.

Years had started to pass, In that time you had trained under the watch of Hao and had become his Itako, You both travelled from place to place brining spirits (usually by force) to his side, You did go home from time to time al though meet ups with your family usually ended in arguments, Your parents accused Hao of derailing your path to success and that you could have been more than you are right now.

You didn’t care, You never regretted your actions not even when Yoh looked at you with suspicion when he saw you at the tournament nor when Anna accosted you intending to tell you the truth, The shock on her face was priceless when you told her you knew and didn’t care.

one night whilst sitting down for a cup of tea, you and Hao spoke of the past and the night you both met, he joked of your embarrassment before giving you a bouquet of aromatic hibiscus that to your shock had a ruby ring on one stem, that moment he got down on his knee and smirked.

“Well will you be my queen?”

“You need not ask my king”

End Scene

#shaman king #asakura hao #asakura yoh #yoh asakura #hao asakura #anna kyoyama #anna asakura #reader x character #fan fic #writers gonna write

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horrorslashergirl · 3 years

Note

Chromeskull meeting his young future SO drinking at a bar after she walked in on her now ex-boyfriend sleeping with her now ex-best friend.

Chromeskull x Reader- Fantasy to Reality

Authors Note: Oh you know....Just a very long Chromeskull OneShot. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Warnings: 18+ Smut

Words: 4.1k

It didn't matter that you were looking out of place with your sweater, leggings, and UGG's among the people at the bar who were dressed in flashy clothes, you didn't come here to hook up or find a possible partner; you just wanted to get away from the apartment that you shared with your boyfriend. Oh! Ex-boyfriend to be exact.

Looking down at the half-empty glass of vodka, you debated if you should order another one, drowning yourself in alcohol seemed like a good getaway at the moment. You simply didn't want to spend your time listening to your cheating ex-boyfriend and who was supposed to be your best friend. All that sugar-coating was just a facade for their secret affair.

You thought that your relationship will blossom more, especially that you decided to go to the same college as your supposed lover; it was his idea after all. Staying in a bar all night was better than wandering the streets. You didn't had any place to go, after all, moving to another state, you didn't know anyone that would help you in this current predicament.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when someone occupied the stool at the bar next to you, and from the corner of your eye, you could tell it was a man, but you didn't give him any attention.

'[Name]?' an electronic voice pulled your attention, your eyes darting to the person; all dressed in fancy black clothes, tattooed hands, bald head, and finally to a pair of chocolate brown eyes.

"Jesse?" you asked, eyebrows raised in surprise, and the man offered you a grin, showing pearly white teeth.

Of course! How could you forget about him, he lived in Jacksonville!

You haven't seen him since you were 14. He was an old family friend, remembering him from the family gatherings and parties, he was friends with your father.

"What are you doing here?" you asked and he raised an eyebrow at you.

'I should ask you the same thing, little shrimp.'

Oh, that old nickname he used on you when you were a child. He was a little younger than your father, and according to your age, he was supposed to be now probably in his late 30s.

"Just having a drink." you simply replied, but he could read you like an open book.

'Doesn't look like it.'

You sighed, knowing you won't get away without him finding out what was really bothering you, plus you kind of needed to get your frustrations out, so you began to explain to him what happened, how you got backstabbed twice in one shot by the people that were supposed to love, care and support you.

By the furrow and sad look in his eyes, you could tell he was angry by your former best friend and boyfriend, but also pity by what happened to you.

'No need to cry over such people. You can do much better.'

"You say that only to make me feel better." you murmured, taking another sip of your drink, only to be snatched away by Jesse, who gave you that stern father-look.

'No more drinking. You had enough.'

"I-I'm just angry....This is not how my first year of college was supposed to be like." you said, looking down at your hands.

'College can be tough...especially if you go after guys who don't know what they want from life.'

This time you gave Jesse an amused look and snorted.

"So what? I am supposed to date guys who have the same age as my father?" you asked in a sassy tone, and perhaps you shouldn't have said that because to Jesse it gave him some taboo ideas, but he quickly pulled them aside, he was married after all and you were the daughter of one of his friends. You were off-limits and so was he.

'What I am saying is that you should look for a real man. Someone who has a stable life and not some bag of meat who plays football, cannot keep a conversation and sleeps with your best friend.'

Ouch, that was harsh and his eyes softened as he noticed that he struck a nerve.

'I expect you to have higher standards, shrimp. You could do much better than that pig.'

You smiled at Jesse and nodded, feeling your self-esteem rise up a little from the ashes.

He indeed helped you out of your misery and it was nice to known someone in Jacksonville. Jesse even helped you out after that encounter at the bar, buying you a small apartment so that you won't have to stay with your ex-boyfriend and pay the rent, he always called you from time to time to ask if you needed something, it felt good to know someone genuinely cared about you.

'How can I not help you out, shrimp? You're my best friend's daughter. I don't wanna see you dead in an alleyway.'

Of course, your father was his best friend, it came naturally for Jesse to look out for you since your father lived on the other side of the country, but still, you couldn't help that sometimes you think of every nice thing he did for you as something more than family chivalry, especially after that small talk about how you could do so much better in the dating department.

You'd do him, alright!

Every time such thoughts crossed your mind you reminded yourself that he was your dad's best friend, a married man, and twice your age, but then other images crossed your mind that clashed with your rational part of the brain.

How could you not fantasize about Jesse? He was a tall, classy, and handsome man, with tattoos that you could ogle at for hours, dark brown eyes that always sparkled with mischief, and the way his lips pulled into a smirk; he really was a wet dream, well your wet dream.

It wasn't like you didn't continue to date, more like went on a first date and gave up, because the guy wasn't what you were looking for. They simply didn't have that specific something that Jesse had.

You continued on with your life, focusing on college and studies; three years went on like this until you were in the last year and one night you were watching some sappy romantic movie while your thoughts went again on a certain man.

You remembered an event that made you smile.

It was Jesse's wedding, you were just 14 and your parents pulled you along. You were sitting at the table, looking as the people danced on the gigantic ballroom, when Jesse came to you, asking why you had such a gloomy face.

You were probably the only teenager there and you had none close to your age to talk to or spend time with, so you amused yourself with watching.

'Dance?'

Of course, the invitation was all innocent and his wife was with the ladies having a good time, probably gossiping and whatnot.

"I-I don't know how to dance." you confessed, looking down, only for Jesse to crouch down and give you a genuine smile.

'Follow my lead.'

With that, he extended his hand and you accepted it, pulling you to the dance floor and sitting your feet on his own. You praised yourself internally for choosing ballet flats over the torturous heels. It was all fun back then, you were still clueless when you were a teenager and still didn't looked into boys and dating games.

Now? You remembered how good he looked into that groom tuxedo, how his expensive cologne invaded all your senses, and how he grinned down at your little self.

The ringing of your phone pulled you out of the delicious daydream and checked to see who it was.

Your father.

It was the usual call: How you're doing in college? What new things happened? Did you get a boyfriend? Nothing really out of the ordinary until he brought Jesse into the discussion and you felt sweat form at the back of your neck.

Looks like he had an accident six months ago and his wife died. That really made you speechless. You haven't talked with Jesse in the past months, you were so busy with studying and final exams and projects; you indeed missed on a lot of things.

"How is he dealing with everything?" you asked, genuinely concerned.

"He is overworking himself, trying to distract himself from all the hurricane of events. Just thought I let you know so if you see him next time you won't be taken aback." your father explained.

You understood the intention and the fact that he mentioned that Jesse was left scarred; you really wondered what happened. Car accident? Jesse had a habit of driving like a maniac.

Looking at the phone in your hand you wondered if you should text him, ask him if everything's alright, but decided against it. You weren't someone prolific in his life, you were just a person on the edge and he was polite and considerate to you, because of your status, not that he viewed you as something more than daddy's little girl.

All night you couldn't sleep because of the news, they haunted your dreams and made you all curious. The next day, earlier in the morning, you decided to go directly at him, you knew his address, and a face to face meeting was better than a text.

Paying the cab driver and waving him off, your eyes averted to the imposing metal gates and the kingdom-like front lawn and right behind it the 'castle'. Come to think that just one man lives in this place really made you wonder how much of a God-complex Jesse had.

Just as you were ready to call on the interphone, a small and put together brown-haired woman stepped out of the house and walking towards the gate, her eyes looking at you with curiosity.

"You must be [Name]." she said, offering a professional smile.

You raised an eyebrow at her.

"How do you know my name?" you asked, feeling like she knew more than you might think.

"Mr. Cromeans talks about you a lot. I'm Spann, his assistant. He didn't expect you." she said, pressing a button on a remote and the gate unlocked.

Top technology indeed.

"No, he doesn't. It's more like a surprise visit, to be honest....I just got the news of what...happened." you said, your mood dropping a little and Spann gave you a sympathetic look, motioning for you to follow her.

"I'm sure he will be happy to see you. None has visited him since the incident." she explained and your eyes widened.

None has visited him? He had so many people at his wedding and so many people always took a chance to be in his presence. What just happened? Being curious you followed Spann and profit to take in your surroundings; the villa was really imposing, the colors of black and white being the most noticeable, and you had to watch your steps as you marched up the marble stairs to the front row. Spann opened the double doors for you and motioned for you to enter.

"He is in his office. Go ahead, I have to go back to the headquarters of the company, but I'm sure he will be happy that you're here." That was the only thing she said before she closed the doors and left you standing there, feeling like a little mouse in this big house.

Looking around a bit you noticed what you assumed was the door to his study and you could hear the faint sound of fingers typing on the keyboard. With a little reluctance, you knocked on the door to make your presence known and opened the door, your eyes seeing Jesse behind the black desk working on his laptop.

You took the time that he wasn't looking up to observe him. The familiar flawless pale face was indeed deeply scarred, the skull structure more prominent and one might felt disgusted at such a sight, but you felt something else, it wasn't pitying, perhaps you felt a deep empathy, wonders of how much it hurt to get on such a result.

When his gaze moved up, probably he expected Spann, but not you, because his eye widened, hands stopping above the keyboard.

'[Name]? What are you doing here?' he slowly signed, getting up from the plush leather seat at his desk.

In the meantime, you had learned a bit of ASL from Jesse, the basics, but you took liberties and studied the unspoken language deeper. Why? Probably in certain hopes.

"I came to visit....I-I heard what happened." you spoke in a soft voice, afraid to not say something that might be wrong, your hands playing with the sleeves of your shirt nervously.

Jesse sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

'Nothing to worry about.' he signed, then leaned against his desk, his usual goofy face, full of cheekiness no longer present.

"I-I'm sorry." you didn't know for what you were apologizing.

Were you apologizing because his face turned into meatball meat and all because of him and his not so orthodox hobby and business, although you didn't know about it? Were you apologizing because his wife was dead and you didn't felt any remorse, because now he was available? You were apologizing because you were feeling like a despicable human being, with egoistic intent?

'You don't have to be. It wasn't your fault.' he signed, then he took a sip of his drink; definitely whiskey.

Not your fault, but the emotions you were feeling.

"None has been visiting you, at last, that's what I'd heard." you said, not really so sure what to make of this conversation.

Jesse gave you a non-pulsed look; no, none came to visit him or give him a 'get better' card or anything corny like that, because he didn't need any pity coming from anyone. He wasn't a helpless man; yes, he was mute, but he wasn't paralyzed to the bed or an old man you can give the compassion smile to. Vulnerable wasn't a word to attribute to Jesse Cromeans, but the truth was that he was feeling just like that.

Yes, the news about his now-dead wife broke him down, but Chromeskull wasn't one to be put down simply like that, and in a few weeks he got over it, despite the empty bed, just like the rest of the enormous villa. Even if she wouldn't have shot herself what would have become of their marriage; she would have left him in a heartbeat, and if it wasn't for the serial killer part, then sure as hell it would be for his face.

None, but Spann looked him dead in the eye, but that small woman had guts of steel. The women couldn't even look him up and no amount of money could change that. Sleeping with old geezers for a 1000$ sure thing, but a disfigured man like him, no thank you. Piggies were, all the same, no matter age, status; they were all disgusting future beef that will all fall to his blades.

He was pulled out of the gruesome daydream when your hand touched his forearm, his gaze meeting yours that showed pity. He fucking hated that sentiment, especially if it was directed at him.

"It's not that bad." you whispered, but Jesse was too blind to see through you trying to emphasize with him.

His face or what had remained of him pulled into a frown.

'Not bad? I look like a monster.' he signed with shaky hands, feeling like strangling something.

Indeed he was a monster, inside and out, only you didn't know it and the devil sure will drag you down for what was to come. You found your back against the wall, his tall form in front of you, looking you down. You felt like a small child being scolded by the strict father and you looked away, not able to hold eye contact. One hand pulled your chin up, making you look at Jesse.

'Look at me.' he signed and you felt your lower lip tremble, not out of fear, but more feeling self-conscious, not knowing what to say to make him feel better.

'Go home, shrimp.' he signed, turning away from you.

That nickname made you feel something else; rage.

"No." you simply said, making him stop and look back at you with a cold gaze.

"No. I'm not a shrimp. I'm not a little girl anymore, you know? I'm gonna finish college this year and hopefully get a great job in a prestigious company." you said, voice not shuttering at all, which surprised you.

"I know what you've been through was hard and I don't pity you, because you are stronger than you think, or else you wouldn't be here in front of me, alive. I know it's not the same, but it's not the outside-pack that's important. Everyone will in the end be all wrinkled and pruney at some point. The youth is temporary and isn't the inside that counts, with goods and bads." you blabbered, not stopping at all to give Jesse a chance to sign.

"I'm not a little girl anymore that you can order to walk back to her daddy. I'm a fucking woman now!" you said, a hard look forming on your face.

That declaration really took Jesse by surprise, especially how straightforward you were looking at him, not even a glimpse of disgust in your eyes. Looking you up and down, he could agree with you. You sure grew up from that little girl that he used to make her laugh with goofy faces and jokes, you were no longer underage, you were no longer a clueless little thing that he took ballroom-dancing when there was none around parties to amuse you.

You were a woman now.

The next few seconds were a blurr, because you found your lips assaulted by rough, scarred ones; one of Jesse's hands fisting your hair and the other one around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. It was like millions of fireworks exploded inside your ribcage.

Jesse was prepared for you to push against him, to be completely repulsed, but your actions definitely took him by surprise. Your hands moved to fist his black dress-shirt, pulling him as close to you as possible, your lips moving against his and tongue running shyly over his.

You two kissed like two lovers who have been pulled apart for years, the need, the longing, everything was so intense as the need for air started to be and the kiss was broken, leaving you two to catch your breaths.

This was wrong on so many levels. You were the daughter of one of his very good friends, he could be by age your father, but God did that kiss felt so good and you reciprocated it.

What was so wrong about it?

"Jesse...." you whispered his name, pulling on his dress-jacket, signaling that you wanted it off.

Ohhh....fuck what people think.

Lips crashed down back again into another sloppy kiss, his body backing yours until you two reached the door, opening it and like that the jacket was off onto the white marble floor.

Both your steps took you to the main staircase and Jesse didn't waisted another minute, picking you up and marching towards the master bedroom. Until you reached the destination, clothes flew everywhere in your path; black button-shirt, black slacks along with your white blouse and black jeans, and both your shoes.

Before reaching the master bedroom, Jesse pinned you against the wall of the hallway, leaving opened mouthed kisses down your neck, the only pieces of clothing on you two were the white lingerie set and his black Calvin Klein boxers.

'Are you sure?' he signed, resting his forehead against yours, the only response you could form was a simple nod.

'Are you very sure, because the moment we step into the bedroom I won't be able to stop.'

That promise made a rush of arousal to pool into your panties and getting bolder you took one of his hands, moving it over your soaked panties, his brown eye-widening at how wet you were and all you did was just kiss. His hands moved behind your thighs and picked you up, waltzing into the bedroom and laying you down on the soft black bedsheets.

You stopped him before he could get on top of you, making him feel like you were ready to back up; perhaps you did realize that you didn't want him, but again you took him aback.

"I wanna please you."

He tilted his head, looking down at you curiously as you sat on the edge of the bed.

"I wanna make you feel like a man, one that is very much loved."

Oh, God...How can he deny you, especially when you give him those doe-like eyes of yours?

You motioned for him to move closer to your form, your hands running down his chest and to the waistband of his boxers, biting your lip as you slowly pulled them down. Your expression was probably hilarious because you felt Jesse give a silent laugh.

Ok, he was definitely going to be the biggest you ever had and when you looked up at him and saw that smirk of his, feeling proud of what he was packing, you felt your heartbeat pick up. Slowly, you started to stroke him, up and down, eyes focused on him, then you started to use your mouth, working more on the tip, feeling how his legs tensed every time you run the tip of your tongue over the slit on top of the head.

Jesse was feeling like he was in heaven, your hot mouth so sweetly wrapped around his cock, sucking and fondling his balls, and everything was because you wanted, not because you felt forced or because he paid you. You were genuinely enjoying yourself.

He was going to cum if you kept it like this and he would be damned if he was going to cum like a virgin from a very good blowjob. It's been six months without any sex and jerking off got to a point all boring, so having a young and beautiful girl such as yourself worship his cock like that, really was setting his libido into a howling fit.

His hand moved into your hair and pulled you away from the hard as stell length of his. You got worried, thinking you did something wrong, only to be laid back on the bed, all sprawled under him. He would have loved to bury his face between your legs and choke on your pussy, but his face was still sensitive, even kissing got him a little itching. There was more recuperation progress to do on his face, but until then, he was going to make you scream.

Your hand rested on his neck, feeling his pulse and looking into his brown eye, the other one foggy and probably blind.

"Jesse....I wanna see your face as I cum." you whispered and that was the last straw because in the next 5 seconds you were filled up to the brim with his length, your legs around his waist and hands running down his back, both of you breathing hard.

How could you want him? Someone who could have anyone she desired, you....You desired him.

He would have lasted more than 30 minutes, but everything was coming down on him with such intensity it was hard to hold his orgasm, but it was all worth seeing the lewd faces you made as he pounded himself into you, your moans and praises were all music to his ears.

You cuddled up to him, his hand stroking up and down your lower back and he chuckled silently; you reminded him of a kitten, all content like you just won the jackpot.

"I'm happy to be with you." you whispered, kissing his chest, fingertips running over the skull tattoo.

'You do realize your father will have my head on a stick, right?' he signed with an amused smirk.

"Mhmm...Don't worry. I will protect you." you said and Jesse pulled you onto his lap, smirking at you.

'I'm sure you will, shrimp.'

You gave him a glare, punching playfully on his chest and making him laugh.

"Will you stop with that nickname? I'm not a little girl anymore, dork." you told him, but he shrugged.

'You're still my little girl. You are daddy's little girl.' he signed suggestively, and you squeaked as you felt something poke your behind.

"Jesse!"

#Chromeskull #laid to rest 2009 #chromeskull x reader #chromeskull: laid to rest 2012 #Jesse Cromeans #jesse cromeans x reader #slasher x reader #horror movies

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pinkhairedlily · 3 years

Text

[Open Your Mouth] Chapter 3 - O

See previous chapters here: AO3 | Tumblr

Summary: She downs her mimosa in one long drink and snaps her fingers. The television shuts blank, and she sashays her way to a room. It looks just like any other wall partition but it opens to an expansive study. It has a day bed on the side, a long table, and her most comfortable swivel chair. Metallic chairs are folded on the side for her clients.Taking up the rest of the space are shelves filled with her favorite books. In the middle, sandwiched by volumes of Crime and Punishment and Les Miserables are jars of teeth submerged in liquid, white, sparkly, well-maintained. On the other end of the wall is a chest box which also functions like a wide ottoman. Except that it isn’t. It’s a freezer for the meat she has yet to eat.

-xxxxxxx-

March 7, 2021, 12:03 PM

“Open your mouth please.” Her bright emerald irises pop out from her mask as she probes the inside of his mouth. Sasuke feels the metal tool scrape against his tooth on the lower left. His tongue is on the edge of making a clucking sound, but he winces from a sharp pain when she moves his tooth from front to back.

“It’s loose,” she confirms for him. He recognizes notes of jasmine in her proximity. “I can extract it for you now. You’ll just have to spend the rest of the day under pain killers.”

He dropped by her clinic during his lunch break, intending to take up her offer in the off chance that she accepts walk-ins.

Of course, it was situated on the 25th floor of one of Senju’s high rise buildings which houses their offshoot businesses in the medical field; one floor for every niche – a chiropractor on the tenth, a hair transplant on the 17th, herbal practitioners on the 20th.

Of course, the brunette receptionist with a very sharp eyeliner sent him away, and looked at him pointedly with visible annoyance when he brought up that the dentist offered the appointment herself. People often tell him he’s handsome, and he gets to use this pretty privilege during the conduct of cases sometimes. But people here are immune to his so-called stoic charm.

Of course, it’s probably because there are far richer, far more aristocratic clients than him that would have naturally made a beeline towards the beautiful dentist.

He clucks nonetheless, his tongue grazing against the cold metal. “Can you do it under thirty?”

“Rushing for an appointment?” She gets the syringe from her assistant and taps it on her delicate wrist.

“Vying if I could get ten more minutes for an ice cream.” Her hands are light and quick to inject the anesthesia in the surrounding gums. He hears her soft chuckle against her mask.

“Not the first time that someone did that move.” She hands him his cone with one scoop of mint chocolate.

“I’m not a fan of sweets if you should know,” he says. “Is strong arm strength needed for a dentist?” Two big bites from the top.

Sakura blushes with an intensity, he notes, and in contrast her actions – she shies away her gaze from his stare with her fingers devoid of any jewelry. “You’re as direct as everyone in your lot goes, huh?”

“Is the topic too morbid for you, Dr. Haruno?”

“I’m keeping tabs with the news but I forego the specifics.” She fiddles with her two scoops of double dutch in a small cup. “But to answer your question, you only need to have the right leverage, an accurate position, and a good angle to ease out the naughtiest of teeth. However, it’s really an advantage to have great arm strength. It can get tiring after the twelve noon patient.”

Sasuke finishes his ice cream in the next three bites, feeling nothing in his mouth, the anesthesia still kicking, but he can taste the blood mingle with the freshness of mint, a tinge of rust in the sweetness on his tongue. “You’re not as bothersome as everyone in your lot.”

She raises both of her eyebrows, not sure if she understands his underlying implications.

“Dr. Tsunade Senju and Dan Haruno, top billing general surgeons of the medical world.”

Her mouth opens to form a small and soundless oh. “Ah I’m sure you already snuffed most information about me – it goes that way, right? Ah? Not at all? – So the thing is….I’m not their legitimate daughter. I’m adopted.”

He didn’t have to snuff, these are all open information in the playground of the rich. “A stroke of luck to land on a high end and well managed orphanage.” Her immense wealth does not translate to jewelry, face jobs, and fancy lash lifts. On her breast pocket are three pilot coletos, an apple watch on her wrist, mid-budget choice of clothes, and comfortable white Nike sneakers to be later replaced with a good fit of block heels. When summed up, they barely make a dent out of her daily worth. The rest of the money must have been channeled to her clinic’s state of the art facilities.

“You could say that I struck gold with my circumstances since then.” She spoons out a big chunk of her ice cream.

“But not prior.” The sugar brown cone also disappears in his mouth, all the chewing done by only one side.

“Amnesia. I reportedly had a traumatic head injury when they found me.” Her pink locks drift to the side, her head tilted in expectation of his further prodding.

Sasuke twists the line to another direction, and he captures the quick change of her microexpression from subtle guarding to surprise. “Would it be possible to inject one strong dose of anesthesia to the full mouth and extract all teeth?”

“Enough to knock them unconscious,” she confirms.

And kill them without sound, Sasuke surmises. He stands up and taps his wristwatch. “My ten minutes with you is up. I take it my extraction procedure is free?”

“I’m sure you’ll afford the next one.” She continues to fiddle with her cup as she watches him go.

Sasuke halts in his exiting steps and looks back at Sakura like it’s an afterthought. “If you’d like a payment, a dinner wouldn’t be so bad.” He turns on his heels and doesn’t stop, he can hear a faint laughter behind his back.

-x-

March 10, 2021, 7:16 PM

“Did I keep you waiting?” He slides on the seat across her and takes in her body language as well as their milieu.

They agreed to meet at seven sharp but Kakashi had asked for another briefing from him so he was held back. Her soft expression, in all its exuding naivety, gives nothing away. “This place doesn’t have no reservations, Detective.”

“Just Sasuke,” he remarks. He clucks his tongue in appreciation. “A hole in the wall noodle place. You frequent this area?”

“A reminder that you gave me the green light to choose.” She’s dressed today in an olive sweatshirt tucked into a neat pair of trousers and velvet loafers – a right mix of classy and casual. “It’s my assistant’s go-to. He would always bring me the best-selling set after a grueling work day so I asked for an address.”

“Thanks for the consideration, Dr. Haruno,” he says. Their order arrives minutes after, and she flashes an apologetic smile. For ordering beforehand Frankly speaking, he expected her to bring him into a Michelin restaurant – one to boost her reputation and second to blanket her in safety of familiar breeds. Or maybe safety is much better in company of anonymity.

“Just Sakura.”

They finish two plates of dimsum and almost empty out the small bottle of chili oil, garlic, sesame, and soy sauce concoction. Sipping a glass of soy milk after a bounty feast, Sasuke reviews the facts again in his mind.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Sakura asks, finished with her drink.

“Give me a hundred bucks then.”

“How many coffee orders would those be worth?”

Sasuke smirks in spite of himself. He changes topics again, on to the mundane life of a Senju-Haruno heir.

“How is the case progressing by the way?”

He glances up and notes the curiosity and fear in her eyes. “Classified information.”

She leans, plates with crumbles and half-empty glasses in between, and tilts her head, her rose locks spilling from her back. “Will they come for me?”

An alarm ticks off somewhere in his mind. “What makes you think so?” They’ve only had one body so far with no other indication of a succeeding death.

He sees that she bites the inside of her mouth, and she fiddles again with the cutlery in front of her. “Maybe I’m just overthinking.”

About ten minutes later, he ushers her outside the rather dingy restaurant but when no car arrives to escort her back to her place, he encourages her to place an uber. He could ask her to ride with him but the mere implications are layered, and he’s not ready for that quite yet. She gives him a look when he opens the door to her uber, an unspoken question she is yet to articulate. When he gets nothing within seconds, he waves goodbye.

“Give me a text when you’re home,” he says although he shouldn’t have.

“It has been an interesting night,” she replies. “Detective.”

The car finally drives away, and he remains with the remnants of her jasmine scent.

-x-

March 13, 2021, 5:49 PM, The second body

“You are not going to release that profile,” the wife of Haru Kagoshi says. She also stands as the chief overseas director of Haru Light, Inc. “Are you insinuating that my husband fucked a gay man?”

“Fuck is a callous word. Watch your tone,” the CEO of Mingwa Industries warn. “Are you sure you’re on the right track?”

“With all due respect, Captain Yamato is the best we have in the country in the field of criminal profiling. He knows what he’s doing,” Asuma assures everyone.

“And are your detectives doing the proper work? Are you covering all fields?” the Mingwa COO pointedly looks at Sasuke. “Because as far as performance goes, you’re allowing that killer to cripple our economy by snuffing out the next best minds.”

Kakashi’s eyes roll in sync with Sasuke’s at the cripple our economy.

Yamato stands up and offers a cup of coffee at the recently widowed which she explicitly ignores. “We will not be identifying the gender of the killer, but we need to narrow it down to males. Of course, it’s up to the public how they will presume it is connected to the genital mutilation.”

“Fuck you,” the widow says. “You know we can cut off your institutional funding, right?”

Kakashi has started massaging his forehead, a sign that he is nearing his bullshit tolerance level. “Yes you can, but we have an annual appropriation from the government. And cutting off our resources won’t solve this case any faster.”

“-with your due respect,” Asuma adds, hoping to de-escalate the situation.

The grandfather CEO of Mingwa Industries scoffs. “We’ll just have to launch our individual investigation then. In case you might be intentionally sabotaging the progress of this case, isn’t that right, Uchiha Sasuke?”

The disdain in his voice when Uchiha rolls off his tongue is jarring and pointed. Sasuke smirks in defiance, willing to push these elites further to the edge of self-destruction. Years in a gray cubicle and thousands of meters walked in company to a reviewing mind, he found that money could get you somewhere – just not the finish line. “You’d better keep an eye out on me then.”

“What the fuck was that about?” Asuma sneers at the detective department after the white collars scampered off. “They are strong lobbyists backing powerful politicians. We shouldn’t be picking a fight with them.”

“He started it,” Sasuke points to Kakashi who shrugs.

“Anyway, Yamato and I will prepare to announce the profile to the media, just a vague description, and then we’ll work on a composite sketch based on these assumptions,” Kakashi pats Asuma’s shoulders. “Ease up. I’m sure Sasuke and his team are doing their best.”

“I’m not doubting an Uchiha, but I’m doubting the way your petty behaviors get in the process of investigation. Now get out and do your jobs.” The Chief Police retrieves a half-emptied pack of cigarettes and lights up a stick. “This job is giving me cancer.”

11:13 PM

She sips her third glass of mimosa as her eyes drift to the sound of her television. A big banner of breaking news is placed below with the caption authorities release a profile: a serial killer at hand?

She chuckles, almost spilling the cocktail on her fingers. She drifts closer to the screen and her nails stick on the necks of the silver-haired man and the man who she assumes is the criminal profiler.

“Authorities confirm that Armando Mingwa and Haru Kagoshi have been killed by the same person. Renowned profiler Captain Yamato reveals the breakdown of the suspect – male with a minimum height of 5’7, age from late 20s to early 30s, and frequents the high-end districts. When asked if we have a serial killer at large, the chief detective and the profiler neither confirmed nor deny.”

She downs her mimosa in one long drink and snaps her fingers. The television shuts blank, and she sashays her way to a room. It looks just like any other wall partition but it opens to an expansive study. It has a day bed on the side, a long table, and her most comfortable swivel chair. Metallic chairs are folded on the side for her clients.Taking up the rest of the space are shelves filled with her favorite books. In the middle, sandwiched by volumes of Crime and Punsihment and Les Miserables are jars of teeth submerged in liquid, white, sparkly, well-maintained.

On the other end of the wall is a chest box which also functions like a wide ottoman. Except that it isn’t. It’s a freezer for the meat she has yet to eat.

March 24, 2021, 1:10 PM

“So what was the dentist’s alibi?” Neji asks the sullen detective.

“He had a meditation class for each date – January 29 and February 27 – which runs for five hours. They time it with the moon cycles. I also called his teacher – she prefers to be called witch – and confirmed his attendance.” Sasuke clucks his tongue. “However, they are a class of 100. He can easily slip out when everyone else is closing their eyes and saying humbda dumda.”

He glances at the map on the wall, pins already on the dumpsites, and he zeroes in on the address smack in the middle. “And he can dump the body with his nondescript car and go back in again. Did you know he has three cars – a Tesla, Mercedes, and a black pick-up?”

Tenten carries a fresh pot of coffee to the table and stares at their evidence board. “I’m guessing it’s the same truck with the garbage ones – those going through the suburbs?”

Sasuke nods. “He says it’s for farming. He has a land on the rural side of the district.”

Jugo raises a brow. “That ends my snooping in with the golden spoons.”

“Not quite Jugo.” Neji fills himself a cup. “These people socialize in the same circles you know.”

Someone knocks on the open door of the room and raises a box of cake. “Delivery for you, Detective Uchiha.” The staff attempts to enter but Jugo raises a finger to stop her.

“Who’s it from?” Jugo asks. “It might be the killer.”

The staff scratches the back of her head. “I don’t think the killer is a beautiful pink-haired lady with green eyes.”

All heads turn curiously to Sasuke who gets the cake from the staff. “It’s my punishment.”

Tenten’s eyes narrow at the name on the card. Haruno Sakura. “How is it a punishment? She brought you – us – sweets.”

“She knows I hate sweets. Help yourself though.”

“So you’re dating?” Neji says it with disbelief. “How? You’re barely in the office and – oh my god, you’re skipping hours aren’t you!”

Jugo repeats the name over and over. “Fuck. You’re seeing the Haruno Sakura? She’s as recluse as the oddball heirs go, but I’ve only heard good things from her. I heard she’s very skilled with her hands. Experienced it yet, Uchiha?”

Sasuke kicks him in the shin as soon as he’s done talking. “Firsthand. A tooth on the lower left. Now shut up and get back to work.”

-x-

April 12, 2021, 6:17 AM, The third body

The team congregates in the morgue. Another body. Only this time, it was found on a ravine, some parts already devoured by wild animals.

“It’s Fugashi Imamu, current overseas director of Imamu Holdings,” the medical examiner tells them. “Same methods done but there’s more clotting on the crotch area, indicating his genital was mutilated while he was still alive.”

Jugo and Neji both groan inwardly.

“He has an eight-year old.” Tenten crosses her arms in front of her. “A math wizard.”

Sasuke closes his eyes, fending off the initial signs of a migraine. The cases kept piling, and they were nowhere close to a lead. “Can you estimate the date of death?”

“I wouldn’t know just yet with all the rigor mortis and animal attacks. But if we pattern this with the recent killings, and the body was dumped within the last two weeks, the killing must have taken place on the last week of March.”

11:13 AM

March 29, Sasuke thinks about the ME’s latest message. There must be a pattern for the dates of killings. And if there was, they are up against an intelligent killer, a methodical one. He must have a list of targets with a step by step process on how to approach and kill each one. He plans weeks ahead with several contingencies.

“Captain Yamato confirms the ME’s assumption. There really is a pattern,” Tenten tells the team. “Unfortunately, the information already reached the golden spoon team.”

Neji comes in with stacks of folders and notebooks. “Got all his stuff from his secretary. Seems like the bastard slept around or may have been just a bad boss, said she couldn’t be more than happy to live in a world rid of such filthy lolita creep – her words, not mine.”

They go through each page, jotting down relevant information. Sasuke, on the other hand, flips through a small wallet-sized planner. Jotted down on March 26 is veneers with Dr. Akugawa. He seems like the go-to dentist of the big shots. He goes further up the dates and there on March 6 is a name he doesn’t expect. Haruno Sakura.

“It’s true. His daughter had an appointment with me,” Sakura confirms over the phone. “But he also dropped by last year for a tooth extraction dislodged by a punch from his grandfather. Old money can be quite controlling.”

“Ah. Doesn’t he have a family dentist?” He taps his pen on his desk, tens of gears running through his mind.

“Told me his dentist was unavailable for an emergency procedure so he dropped by the one nearest his office.”

Sasuke looks at the time on his watch. “Did you have lunch yet?”

“I have an 11:30. But I can see you in 12.”

He gets there fifteen minutes before, and he flashes his badge to Laura who has grown accustomed to his lunch break visits. Nonetheless, her countenance makes apparent her dislike.

“Your cctv records please,” Sasuke tells her. It isn’t a request, Laura knows, so she leads him to the administrative room on the floor and instructs the staff to show the dates he mentions.

Kiyoko Imamu went there on March 6 with her mother and a helper. They backtrack until they find the date when Fugashi had an appointment. A 30-minute visit and he was quickly out.

“Does Dr. Haruno have other clinics? A private location for a niche clientele?” Sasuke asks.

Laura shakes her head. “Only this one, and she doesn’t accept house calls. She likes to concentrate her work in one place.”

He tells the staff to rewind the records on January 29, February 27, and March 29. Nothing was peculiar about Sakura’s body language, Sasuke notes. He commits all records in his memory and allows himself to be ushered out by Laura. They arrive to Sakura waiting at the receptionist’s desk.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” She asks him with a tilt in her head.

“Just right about now.” He offers an open arm to her which she links with hers. Her face immediately blooms in shades of red.

“We have mussel soup today and grilled mackerel. On the other hand, we also serve bolognese. Or do you have any other location in mind?”

“Your cafeteria’s menu sounds nice.”

They’re interrupted by Sasuke’s phone.

“Where are you?” Kakashi’s voice borders on the edge of frustration.

“Lunch,” Sasuke replies.

“Come back asap. The families had Jugo come in and take Akugawa for questioning.”

#open your mouth #sasusaku #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #pinkhairedlily #crime and mystery au #thriller au #am i even doing this right lmao

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crystxlclear · 3 years

Text

sudden desire

chapter six: previously on: chaotic stupid

part seven of sudden desire

prologue / one / two / three / four / five / masterlist

in which two best friends won’t admit they’re in love so decide to have a baby together instead.

pairing: marcus pike x original female character (coraline meyer)

word count: 8.2k (oh yikes)

warnings: no beta read, brief mentions of pregnancy i guess?

author’s note: this took me weeks to write oh my god

Coraline hasn’t told anyone about Marcus’ offer. Not even Loren, when they’d met for the first time in months, when her boyfriend finally got a night off work to look after Maisie. Not even when they’d drunk too much wine and her head was so fuzzy that she probably would have told anyone anything, if they’d asked. She’s not even sure where she’d start.

Coraline has never been the best at keeping secrets. At least, not her own, and definitely not when she was younger, and she’s always wondering whether that’s why the media seem to think she’s easy prey for their rumours. It never seemed to bother Scott; he was the same, so open and willing to talk about anything and everything with anyone who asked. But it’s different with Marcus. He’s private by necessity but he’s also private by choice, too. She wonders if he’s always been like that, if before the heartbreak he’d told her about occurred, if he’d opened up to people. If what had happened to him had made him closed off. He’s never seemed like a closed book before (and, hell, maybe he isn’t, maybe he just doesn’t want to relive those times; and he doesn’t have to tell her anything, anyway) but he’d opened up to her after he’d made his ‘baby suggestion’. And all she can think of now, since he’d recounted the stories, was that those women - the ex-wife who’d claimed he was too ‘nice’, who’d claimed he was too ‘clingy’ and ‘needy’, and all that utter bullshit, and the one who’d left him for another man, left him alone in D.C. without a single person to lean on - must be completely insane to think that he isn’t good enough for them. Marcus Pike is too good for anyone, she thinks. He’s the best person she knows. Marcus Pike makes Coraline want to be a better person. They didn’t end up ordering takeout that night, like they always did. Coraline had found herself reaching to the back of her cupboards, searching blindly for some ingredients she wasn’t even sure she had, just for him. Marcus loves breakfast. Like, he really loves it, she’s come to find. And at any time of the day, really. And there’s a diner he frequents; it’s near his office, on the other side of town, tucked away just out of Cora’s reach. Though, he has taken her there once before - just after they first met, when she’d tagged along with her older brother to the FBI debriefing, to check his gallery was secure; she’d thought it was a date, until he’d prefaced his offer with an insistence that it was ‘just as friends’; Marcus had spent the whole time raving about the pancakes he ate every Friday — a treat for a long week’s worth and a change from his usual burger and fries — how he’d found the place by accident and it was part of his daily routine, now, until Coraline had given in and let him order for her, since he knew the place better than she did - most of the time, they see each other when it’s late, when he’s already been for his almost daily pancake-fix and she’s collapsed to the sofa with her legs draped over the armrest. They haven’t been back since, though she’d jump at the chance if he ever asked again. Coraline may be a pretty awful cook, and she may not be able to make pancakes as good as the ones he likes, but surely it’s just the sentiment that counts. He’s spent far too many evenings eating greasy Chinese food at her behest, insisting that he’s fine with it, because it makes her feel better. It’s the least she could do. She’d spent an hour making perhaps the world’s worst pancakes - even as Marcus insisted that she didn’t have to cook for him, that they could just order pizza or something if they wanted a change - pancakes so bad that she’d had to drench the damn things in syrup just to disguise the odd sour taste that somehow tinged every mouthful. Marcus had eaten it without issue, even as she’d apologised endlessly for her dreadful culinary skills and insisted that he didn’t have to eat them if he didn’t like them. They’d made him smile, though. And it melted away the last dregs of awkwardness between them. That was the pancakes’ purpose. It didn’t matter that they were utterly terrible, borderline inedible and a little lumpy.

But, when Monday rolls around and her older brother, Daniel, comes to her with his regular insistence that she brings that ‘nice FBI agent she’d made friends with’ to their weekly dinner at his house, she took him up on the offer, for a change. She’s never asked because she’s always assumed he would say no; they weren’t dating and it was a little weird. Surely an invite to weekly family dinners was something couples did.

She always ignores Daniel, used to the persistent insistence to ask him. Relenting — finally — comes with the sense that she feels as if she owes him now, though. To make it up for her dreadful pancakes with Daniel’s wife’s cooking, which was always amazing. To make up for the week of unforgivable ignorance. To help them move past the ill-thought-out offer of a baby. She’s sure he’ll still say no, when she calls him on his lunch break, when she knows he’ll be sat at the counter in that same diner, enjoying that brief moment of time away from paperwork. Their lunch breaks line up, those rare and all-too-rare moments when they have time to relax, the tension in their shoulders owed entirely to their morning workloads melting away at the soft sounds of the other’s voice.

His voice is pleasant, like it always is; Marcus Pike’s voice is like serenity to her, all gentle and familiar, and, this time, he sounds amused when he answers the phone. “Well, this is a nice surprise.” His voice crackles through the phone. The reception in the diner is terrible - it’s the only thing he ever seems to complain about - but she can still make out the sound of the smile in his voice. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Good afternoon to you, too, Marcus.” Coraline hums, shoving the last of her laundry into the washing machine, her phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear. “I’m calling with an invitation.”

“An invitation?” He ponders, musing over the idea. “To one of those glamorous celebrity parties you’re always telling me about?”

She scoffs. “Oh, you wish, Pike. It’s an invite to my brother’s for dinner. Incredibly glamorous, I know.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone for a few moments. She almost regrets asking. She does when he replies. “Are you sure?” He questions. “I’m not sure-”

Coraline nods as if he can somehow see her through the phone. “I’m sure,” she insists, “Besides, Daniel and Kimmy want you to come.”

“Coraline, I don’t know-”

“Marcus, don’t make me beg.” She chuckles, but it’s a nervous chuckle. She knew he would say no; that’s why she hasn’t asked him, to avoid this awkward conversation between them when he was uncomfortable and looking for a subtle way to turn her down without hurting her feelings. “Please.”

There’s another pause as he lets out another muffled laugh. His tone is teasing when he speaks again; she can practically see the smirk as he sips his coffee. “And what’s in it for me?”

She bites the inside of her cheek, stifling a giggle.

She could think of a lot of ways to repay the favour.

Cora pushes through the onslaught of entirely… inappropriate thoughts, especially to have about your best friend and offers up the most innocent of offerings, though her voice slips to find that low, rumbling register reserved only for the discrete. Mundane words tipped in something intriguing. “I’ll never make you pancakes again.”

“Deal.” He snaps far too quickly through the phone.

Her mouth falls open. “Marcus,” she gasps, mock offence in her voice.

There’s silence for a moment. “Sunshine,” Marcus calls out through the static, like he’s sure he’s actually offended her. Like he could ever do that. “I thought your pancakes were great.”

Even a lie sounds like the truth coming from his lips.

“Damn right they were,” she insists.

When she lies, even when it’s laced with laughter, it sounds like one. She’s glaringly aware that’s a complete contradiction, given her job.

“Pancakes- real pancakes, diner pancakes- on me for a month.”

“Tempting.”

“...Two months?”

“Fine, fine. If you insist.”

The rush of breath that escapes her in relief is so embarrassingly loud, she’s sure he can hear her. She’s glad he’s not there, watching her, so he can’t see the wide, uncontrollable, entirely tooth-filled grin that splits across her face; she’s sure she looks maniacal, sat in her trailer on set, covered in thick dustings of fake mud from that morning’s scenes.

She’s never been more thankful for the solitude of a phone call before.

“I do insist. I’ll pick you up at five.”

Amusement, again, peeks through in his tone. She’s sure he’s eating pancakes — those blueberry pancakes with mountains of ice cream — because they’re the only thing that makes him happy like this, especially on a heavy workday. “In that super-fancy car of yours?”

She’s had her car for twelve-years. But it’s even older than that, fixed up by her father in his garage for what seemed like years. It’s an old run-down black Camaro from the seventies that she’s had since she was sixteen; far too trusty and sentimental to let go of, driving her cross-country from LA to DC without a hitch those six-months ago. It lives in the private parking lot down the street from her apartment complex, tucked away, out of use most days, because the traffic of DC is far too heavy in the mornings and it’s easier to walk or take the Metro instead. Weekly nights spent at Daniel’s on the opposite end of the city gave her an excuse to pull her car from its designated parking space and navigate the busy streets to the comforting hum of the engine.

Coraline knows Marcus loves her car, as much as he jokes about it. It’s evident in the way his face lights up when he sees her sat there, parked down the street outside the FBI headquarters; his smile illuminated by the harsh street lamps overhead, cutting through the darkness alongside the bright nearby office lights and flickering neon signs that cast stained glass shadows on the sidewalk. He’s watching her as she taps her fingers in time to a song she doesn’t recognise on the radio.

Marcus ducks into the car with a ‘hello’ lingering on his lips and ducks to kiss Coraline’s cheek; it’s a friendly gesture that lingers, not unfamiliar as a display of friendly affection between them, but still swelling that giddy sense of happiness in her chest like it’s the first time.

“I brought the beer.”

Coraline glances over at him warmly as she starts up the car. The engine rumbles to life, almost sounding unhealthy. She reaches over and squeezes his shoulder a little, fingers falling down his arms.

Marcus had insisted he bring something; a repayment for dinner, for Daniel and Kimmy inviting him over. She’d insisted he didn’t need to — neither of them would mind; they just wanted to meet the lead in so many of Coraline’s stories, for real this time — but then he’d insisted that he had to, that his mother would never let him live it down if she found out he forgot his manners and turned up without a thank you gift. So she’d told him to bring beer (not wine, definitely not wine, for Daniel’s sanity’s sake). And he’d obliged.

Not just that cheap beer, either. But the expensive kind, the kind you could only find in certain places if you were looking for it. He’s spared no expense.

He doesn’t need to impress them, though. They already like him well enough, on the basis of Coraline’s endless stories.

“Is what I’m wearing okay?” He questions as he smooths his hands over the front of his suit jacket. “I didn’t have time to change.”

He’s still wearing his work clothes — somehow still relatively undisturbed even after hours of the paperwork he’d been half-complaining about to her the night before — yet he still looks great. He’d probably look great in just about anything. Coraline looks entirely underdressed next to him; just blue jeans and a white shirt, and the thin golden pendant her mom had given her the night before her wedding hangs against her chest. She doesn’t wear it much anymore, not since the divorce. But Marcus had seen it the other day, while he was waiting for her to finish getting ready, perusing the expanse of her drawers, intrigued by the jewellery that hung from a stand. He’d said it was beautiful - with the delicately carved bird in the middle, surrounded by flowers - and she found herself reaching for it every morning since.

She’s not sure why. She just likes to wear it, now.

“You look great.” As always.

He scans what she’s wearing, casual and, as the wheels being their customary groan when she sets the car in reverse. “It’s not too much?” He’s shuffling awkwardly, hands tugging at the lapels of his suit jacket. Is he nervous?

She watches as he moves, shifting slightly in his seat; she’s watching from the corner of her eyes, half her focus on Marcus, the other on pulling out onto the busy road. He’s staring straight ahead, out at the car ahead of them, like the license plate is somehow the most interesting thing in the world right now. His brows are furrowed. The air between them is thick with anticipation and it’s like something has changed; for good or bad, she’s never sure with them anymore, not these past few months, but his hand is gripping his knee and somehow everything seems heavy again.

He’s met Daniel before, it’s not that. Briefly, sure. But that couldn’t be it. He’s usually so relaxed and laid back, especially around her, never worried about making a joke or goofing off. She doesn’t like seeing him like this.

She reaches over and squeezes his hand; he steadies himself and tilts his head towards her. Her smile is warm and bright and comforting, and the gentle brush of her fingers over the hand that grips his knee relieves the inexplicable anxiety that has strangled him from the moment she’d invited him to dinner. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know what it means, what any of it means. Why things are suddenly so different between them after six months of being nothing but friends.

Why he, for some godforsaken reason, thought suggesting they have a baby together was a good idea.

Did he really want that?

Either way, he’s pretty sure Coraline doesn’t. Not with him, at least.

Cora hums, eyes dropping to herself and the wrinkled jeans she’d fished out from the back of her wardrobe. “Least you made an effort.”

…

Daniel Meyer is seven years older than Coraline. He’d always been fiercely protective of his younger sister when they were growing up; not in that abrasive, overbearing and destructive way, the way when your life is governed strict and rigid, but Daniel Meyer didn’t take kindly to people hurting his sister. Growing up, he helped her deal with things - the bullying in high school, the heartbreak of her first breakup - so it only seemed fitting that, when she’d moved to D.C., the same place he’d called home with his family for eight years, that he would do the same. That’s how their weekly family dinners were born, from his insistence to help his younger sister settle into her new home, in a new city she barely knew.

For the longest time, Scott Meyer was public enemy number one to him. Sometimes she wonders, now that it’s all over, the divorce is final - now that he’s out of her life for good - if he still is. Or if they’ve really all moved on like she thinks they have.

The second they arrive at his front door, greeted warmly by the smell of pie and a grinning Kimmy, wearing an apron and slightly flustered, looking just as welcoming as always. Her blonde waves - the waves Coraline has always been so jealous of - are pinned up haphazardly out of her face, half-spilling down her back from the clip that tries to hold it in place.

“Good evening.” Her voice sounds like a song, light and sweet, and her smile is even wider than usual as she glances between her sister-in-law and Marcus, who stands a little behind her, radiating that familiar confidence that Coraline is used to. The half-hour drive had relaxed him enough that, now he’s met with Kimmy’s friendly face, he’s the one that’s comforting her, with a gentle hand on her back and the silent reassurance that things will be okay.

Coraline is mostly worried about him. She's still not entirely sure he wants to be here. She doesn’t blame him.

Kimmy leans forward and kisses Coraline’s cheek in greeting, the usual gesture.

“This- well, you know Marcus.” Cora ushers towards her best friend beside her when she pulls back.

“Marcus, of course!” Her face lights up even more. “I’ve heard a lot about you since we last met.” Kimmy’s tone is amused. Her eyes waver towards Coraline, a knowing look in her eyes.

“It’s great to finally meet you, for real this time.”

Kimmy’s eyebrow quirks up at Coraline for a moment, the hint of a smirk as Marcus introduces himself, that same FBI Agent-trained surety tipping the edges of his voice, before she finally ushers them inside. It’s starting to get cold; the evening chill is creeping in from the river beside the house, reaching out towards them. Coraline is glad she’d tossed a coat onto the backseat of her car before she’d left and Marcus tugs his suit jacket tighter around himself. “Come in before you both freeze to death.”

The house is alive with the joyous yet shrill screams of children. Coraline’s nephews, to be exact. It always is. Every night. Every week she turns up and they’re running around, playing whatever game they deem fit that evening. Half the time, Coraline gets pulled into their games, whenever she’s not helping Kimmy in the kitchen (which isn’t often, because she’s hopeless at it). Of course, today’s no different.

The two of them are darting around the living room, screaming bloody murder as they wear themselves out; Finley, the oldest, is chasing Elliot, his curls falling haphazardly over his eyes. She can’t tell what they’re yelling about - she never can; it’s just a tangled mess of screamed words - but Elliot is giggling so much that he has to stop every couple of minutes to catch his breath. Finley stops with him, pulling himself from their games for a second to wait as they both regain their composure and carry on. They wear themselves out before dinner and then everything seems to go off without a hitch.

Cora hangs her coat on the hooks by the door and kicks off her sneakers, and Marcus follows suit with his jacket and dress shoes. He looks to her for guidance, that immediately understandable hesitation of being in an unfamiliar house, and this silent agreement settles between them as she sweeps her way into the living room. Her footsteps were light; so light, in fact, that she reached her nephews without disturbing them, startling Elliot when she scooped him up in her arms and spun him around. He complains at first, ducking his head away as she tries to kiss his cheek, letting out the most dramatic and exaggerated noises. Eventually, he gives in and curls his arms around her neck, pulling her close for a second, before he starts to kick again, restless in her arms.

Finley takes to wrapping himself around her right leg and suddenly the three of them end up sprawled out and giggling brightly on the carpet.

Marcus watches from the doorway. He thinks she’ll be a great mom someday. It’s the little things she takes in her stride.

“Hello to you too, Cora.” The low, amused voice of Coraline’s brother, Daniel, comes from inside the living room.

“Hey there.” She’s still giggling. She can’t help it. Finley and Elliot unhook themselves from her and each other and resume their endless laps of the couch.

Daniel stands over her with raised eyebrows. His tie has long-since been discarded and he cuts a casual figure as he cradles the youngest of the Meyers, Piper. She’s only six months and the smiliest baby Cora has ever seen. Usually, she’s asleep by the time Coraline arrives, either cradled in her father’s arms or tucked away in the crib upstairs; today, her legs are kicking back and forth and her hands are fisting into his dress shirt. She’s restless - she knows sometimes that she is, that when they finally cradle her to sleep, it’s best that they leave her or risk jolting her awake for the rest of the night - but she’ll let her wriggle around in her arms for hours if it means catching up on the time she’s missed with her niece all those nights she’s been asleep.

“I brought Marcus.” Cora points towards Marcus as he leans against the doorframe, watching her with fond eyes. She tilts her head back to look at him; he’s smiling and she wants to reach for him. She reaches for Daniel’s extended hand instead, pulling herself up from the floor. She groans uncomfortably, her back aching a little. “Marcus, you’ve met my brother, Daniel.”

Coraline reaches out for her niece; that brooding feeling swells bright and burning again when she takes her, cradling her close into her chest, and she can’t help but glance up at Marcus as Daniel moves to greet him - just barely acquaintances but familiar enough to avoid those awkward initial introductions. He’s watching her, still, as she says ‘hello’ to her niece and gently rests her cheek against the top of Piper’s head. It’s like they’re both wrapped up in that moment where it’s just the two of them - all too fleeting, cut short by Daniel’s greeting and the persistent shouting of children - but it feels lovely. Even if this moment is all they’ll ever get.

Coraline savours the moment with her niece because it’s rare and often fleeting; her, Daniel and Kimmy’s schedules are crammed tight with work and unavoidable commitments and that weekly dinner is the only time each week they can spare to see each other. If Piper is asleep, then Coraline won’t get to say ‘hi’ to her niece. It’s an unfortunate consequence of their careers.

“That’s Elliot-” She points her finger at her smallest nephew. “-and that’s Finley-” Then to the tallest of the two. “-and this… this is Piper.” She bounces the tiny baby lightly in her arms, turning her body so Marcus could get a glimpse at the small smile that pulled at Piper’s lips as her small fist grabbed at Coraline’s shirt.

She’s already told him about them all before. He knows their names. But this is the first time he’s ever met the kids. And it’s somehow maybe the most terrifying thing he’s done in a long time, including that one warehouse shootout his team found themselves in a few weeks earlier.

He feels overdressed and a little ridiculous, just stood there, looking like a lost puppy in the entryway, in his suit and tie. Unsure what to do with his hands or his eyes, or what the hell to say to cut through his quiet. He usually brought a change of clothes to the office if he knows he has somewhere to be but, somehow, in his blind panic at the idea of meeting the family, he’d forgotten to grab anything to change into. And that ease in meeting new people, that effortless skill he’d built up over years of practice, the perks of the job, just seems to have melted away the second he stepped into the house behind Coraline, under the well-meaning scrutiny of Kimmy. This is all normal for her - this weekly routine she’s fallen into - but it’s unfamiliar territory for him.

It almost feels like something it isn’t. Meeting the family. That point in a relationship when you first realise things are serious. Only this isn’t a relationship. And he’s already met Daniel and Kimmy before, even if it was briefly, and while he was working and distracted with planning a stakeout. And Coraline. Always Coraline. But something about her smile just commanded attention, back then - it still does - even when she tries to blend into the background. Once he noticed her. Sat alone at an empty conference table, comically-oversized name badge pinned to the front of her dress, her lips curling up a little as she sipped the sour FBI coffee.

Everyone else had passed the glass-walled room without even a second glance.

He, on the other hand, was convinced he’d just seen a ghost. She’d almost startled him, breath leaving his chest. An utter cliche.

Marcus had recognised her face from TV - though, admittedly, he wasn’t really up-to-date on pop culture, definitely lingering a couple of decades behind, age and time catching up on him, spare time buried beneath a mountain of paperwork to distract himself from Teresa and the unfamiliarity of D.C. - but he always remembers thinking she was pretty. Really pretty. But he always finds it a little embarrassing how much she a hold over him that day, how he’d had to take a second to psych himself up, talk himself down from that nervous ledge he was staring over, before he even thought about entering the room.

It’s weird, looking back, thinking how much has changed. But the changes keep coming, thick and fast, and sometimes it becomes less and less obvious what they are anymore.

“Marcus.” Daniel reaches out a hand for him to shake. He shakes it graciously and says his hellos. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

That’s the second time he’s heard that today. Coraline rolls her eyes a little. It’s not the first time she’s heard it, either. It almost makes Marcus laugh but then she smiles again, half-concealing a grin, and he forgets what he’s thinking about for a moment.

But then he wonders what she tells them about. Whether those stories are good or bad, whether they paint him in colour or in black and white.

With Coraline, he figures it’s probably the brightest landscape of technicolour, regardless of who she’s talking about.

“I’m glad Cora finally asked you to come.”

“Well, you talk too much. I didn’t want to bore him.” Cora shrugs, her full attention on Piper.

“More like scare him away.”

He’s not sure she could ever scare him away.

“Finley is terrifying,” she admits with a giggle but she seems distant. She looks up to raise an eyebrow at him again. Her words are slow, almost drawn out. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to get out while you still can.” It’s meant to be light and joking, and Daniel laughs at her words. Given the way she’s looking at him, he’s not sure.

She just keeps looking at him like there’s no one else around.

She can’t help it. She keeps trying. It isn’t working.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Daniel insists as the boys rush past Marcus; he has to step out of the way to avoid them, smiling as they manoeuvre around him and race out of sight into the back of the house. He smiles fondly as they pass. “They’ll calm down in a second.”

“You hope they’ll calm down.” Coraline jabs her older brother in the ribs playfully. He chuckles as lightly as he can but it's obvious he’s tired; his shoulders slump and his eyes linger closed a little longer than normal, Coraline notices. He’s been working flat-out at his gallery every day, then running home to help with the kids. And Piper is a restless baby - difficult to get to sleep which means that, if she’s asleep when she arrives, she can’t say hello for risk of waking her up - so, unless Daniel or Kimmy are holding her while the house is still alive and humming around her, she refuses to fall asleep. “I think-” She looks towards Marcus. He’s inched closer into the room, now, but he’s still lingering like he needs to be invited in. “-you’ll just have to get used to it.” She hums.

“I’m still not used to it and they’re my kids,” Daniel grumbles, almost to himself.

“Piper seems okay with it.” Marcus points out. He watches as his best friend cuddles the tiny baby close to her chest.

Piper’s looking up at Cora with the brightest eyes. They’re Coraline’s eyes - Daniel’s too, he assumes - that light emerald green that sparkles beneath the warm living room light. Her mouth is in an ‘o’ shape, fascinated, as she stares. She looks utterly transfixed by her aunt’s face as she carries on their idle, gentle conversation, lightly bobbing her up and down, cradling her softly to sleep. Her eyelids were drooping, sleep gently pulling her in. She’s humming gently, whenever she’s not speaking; Marcus isn’t even sure she realises she’s doing it. That it’s just some subconscious instinct inside her, telling her to sing to the baby so she can sleep. She’s drawing gentle circles on her back through her onesie. Slow, idle circles that slow the wriggles and the kicking of his legs, lulling her off to sleep ever-so-slowly.

It’s like she’s a natural. She knows exactly what to do every time; with Piper, with Maisie. It’s like second nature and there’s this even brighter glow, brighter than usual, when she settles into the role. She takes it all in her stride and seems to forget the world around her just for a moment.

“How do you do that every time? Can you come and do that every night?” He jokes. But he doesn’t seem to be entirely joking.

She hums. “Perhaps-” She rests her cheek against the top of her head as lightly as she dares without disturbing her. “Perhaps I’m just a superhero.”

The yells of kids echo through the house, the hammering of feet pounding against the wood floor. Kimmy’s muffled exasperated calls for quiet come from the kitchen, falling on deaf ears as the boys continue to charge through the back of the house.

Coraline catches her brother’s gaze. “Go and help.” She’s noticed the way he’s been watching his daughter anxiously, worried that she won’t fall asleep through all the noise and excitement and the gentle hum of Coraline’s made-up song. “I’ve got her,” she insists.

“Are you sure?”

Piper is slowly drifting off to sleep, even despite the noise. Just at the warmth of her aunt cradling her and the gentle hum of her sweet voice lulling her asleep. “I’ve got her,” she repeats. “Go and help Kimmy.”

Daniel’s shoulders slump in relaxation. He mouths a ‘thank you’ as he jogs from the room, calling out to his sons to stop them from charging around, insisting that they wash their hands and settle down for the sake of their sister.

Now, it’s just Coraline, Marcus and a half-asleep Piper left alone in the living room.

The tension in the air is thick and heavy for a moment.

“Marcus, you’re staring,” she points out. She’s not even looking at him, just can just feel the weight of his kind gaze and it sets her heart racing at a hundred miles an hour. “I’d let you hold her-“ She says as he steps a little closer; now Daniel is out of the room, he’s relaxed. It’s like, without him there, he can pretend it’s just the two of them and Piper curled up content against Cora’s chest, even despite the yell of children’s voices and the unfamiliar surroundings. “-but, if I did that, we’d never get her off to sleep.”

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “I think she’s happier with you.” He settles beside her.

Coraline’s thumb brushes over Piper’s cheek and the baby smiles a tiny smile, eyes still close and fisting her hands tighter into the white material of her shirt. There’s a blissful silence that settles between the three of them — just for a moment — when she looks up at him beside her, watching the pair of them sway gently to a seemingly silent song. The weight of the moment engulfs them like a tidal wave.

“Marcus-“ she breathes out, barely loud enough for him to hear. But he does, in the relative silence, and the way she says his name rips the air from his lungs, like the first time she’d surprised him the day they’d met. Her green eyes are wide and wild and she’s looking between him and Piper like they’re the only things left in the world.

They could do it.

He knows what she’s going to say, if she had the chance. If Daniel hadn’t returned, calling out to them that dinner was ready.

They could do it. He knows they could, she knows they could. They could have this fleeting moment for as long as they both live. Their own little version of paradise, together. No matter how terrible the idea seems to be, they could. But Coraline knows she can’t stay in that world forever. It’s temporary and, as much as she wants that, all day, every day, for herself and not through someone else, she knows she can’t let herself get too in over her head.

Still, Marcus really does think she’ll be an amazing mom.

...

After much persuasion — and the promise of candy after dinner — Finley and Elliot finally settled down long enough for them to eat. Coraline had set Piper down to sleep in her crib upstairs, lingering perhaps a little too long to marvel down at her only niece, wondering what it would be like if she was looking down at her own daughter.

She knows it’s a hopelessly bad idea. That the feelings will catch up with her and pull her under again. Sometimes she just can’t help it.

She returns with that fake smile Marcus has become a pro at noticing. She looks wistful, longing in her eyes, disguised by the small smile that takes over her face when she slides into the seat at the dinner table beside him. She smooths out her shirt and jeans, wrinkled from the baby. Another smile, an assurance that Piper is okay and sleeping soundly upstairs, and the conversation moves on to mostly idle chatter, and Daniel asking Marcus questions about himself. Coraline keeps shooting her brother glances whenever he asks a new question that almost seems too personal. He doesn’t mind one bit, though.

Marcus finds Coraline’s free hand under the table and squeezes at some point. She doesn’t want him to let go.

“Auntie Cora?” Finley asks, leaning his chin on his hand to stretch across the table. His questioning call of her name breaks through the idle conversation they’re all having, like he’s demanding all their attention, and not just Coraline’s.

It steals a moment of quiet between them all.

“Nephew Finley?” She replies, mimicking his stance and the curious, furrowed-browed expression on his face.

“When are you going to have a baby, like Piper?”

It’s a loaded yet completely innocent question on his behalf. He’s merely a curious five-year-old with no ill intentions, and no reason to believe it’s anything other than a normal question; Coraline doesn’t even flinch, even when Kimmy scolds her son sharply and insists he eats the rest of his dinner. Though, Marcus still sees the flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Instead, she just smiles and laughs that brightly enchanting laugh, tilting her head to the side in response to her nephew as he sinks back into his chair and pokes at his potatoes.

“Well, I don’t know,” she replies truthfully, “Soon, maybe.”

Marcus almost thinks her eyes waver towards him but it’s so quick that he reasons that, perhaps, he’s seeing things.

“Soon?” Daniel catches up with her words. “You seeing someone?”

“Oh-“ Coraline swallows thickly. She shakes her head. “No, no, not at all. I’m just- optimistic, I guess.”

“I’m sure there’s someone out there for you,” Kimmy poses.

Coraline hums. Marcus doesn’t see the way her gaze trails towards him. “I’m sure there is.”

...

The rest of dinner passed without any more questions on the matter, Finley’s attention switching towards Marcus instead. He was persistent, firing questions at him across the dinner table like he was leading an interrogation, but Marcus kept answering just as enthusiastically as the first time. He’d skirted around the facts a little - it wasn’t exactly a great idea to tell a child, seemingly without a filter, that you were an FBI agent - but the whole exchange had been wonderful. Coraline was sad to see it finish when Kimmy announced the boys could have dessert and they'd leapt from their seats to race towards the cookie jar.

Marcus had offered to help Kimmy wash up as a thank you but she’d brushed him off, and, eventually, he’d resigned to the living room with Daniel. It had taken Coraline months to convince Kimmy that she should let her help clean up, there was no way she would have accepted Marcus’ offer immediately.

Instead, it’s just Coraline and Kimmy, working in tandem to clean the dishes, while Daniel spends time with the kids after a long day at work, and pulls Marcus into their conversation like an old friend.

“I’m sorry about Finn. He’s-” Kimmy shakes her head as she sets another plate down in the drying rack. “He’s been going through one of those... phases lately.”

“It’s fine, Kim, truly.” Coraline sets a couple of dry plates down on the counter and turns to smile at her, before carrying on her job. Sometimes Kimmy jokes about how ridiculous it is that they use so many plates since Piper was born. “He’s just curious,” she insists. “And he makes everything a little more colourful.”

Kimmy chuckles. “That he does.” She washes down another plate. “So, Marcus is great.” She hums, changing the subject towards her with a quirk of an eyebrow and a small, knowing smirk on her face.

Coraline smiles. Though, it’s more to herself than Kimmy. “He really is, isn’t he?”

“Are you two… y’know… is there anything there or-?”

“Oh, no! No, no. We’re just-” Friends. “Just friends.”

“Well-“ She quirks an eyebrow at her sister-in-law. “-maybe you should? Just see how it goes. One date at a time.” Kimmy’s suggestion is as innocent as Finley’s question over dinner. She doesn’t understand the weight it holds. And she doesn’t expect her to, anyway. They’re close but just barely close enough. “Things might surprise you and it’ll do you good to get back out there again after, y’know-“

“No, we-” She shakes her head and turns to finish putting away the plates in the cabinet. In the quiet, she hears Marcus laugh from the living room. It’s one of those whole-hearted laughs, when his head lulls back and his eyes screw shut and crinkle at the corner. She wonders which one of them made him laugh like that, or what made him laugh like that. She hopes Daniel hasn’t pulled out the picture albums; he’s worse for that then their parents. But, since Daniel had made his fortune as an art buyer, eventually to the point he’d made enough to buy his own art gallery, a year ago, Coraline should have known that he and Marcus would get on. They had a lot in common. She’s so glad he likes him, though she can’t imagine a reason why he wouldn’t. “Friends. Friends.”

There’s another silence and she can feel Kimmy’s eyes burning into the back of her head. She turns to see the tail-end of a raised eyebrowed glare, amusement tugging at the corner of her lips. “Well, you never know unless you try, Cora.”

“There will be no trying,” Coraline insists, jabbing Kimmy in the side with her nail. She grins and lets her blonde tresses fall over her shoulder. “Of any kind. He doesn’t see me that way.” She finishes.

“Do you see him that way?”

Another pause.

“No.”

Maybe that’s a lie.

Maybe Kimmy knows that.

Maybe Marcus knows that.

Coraline isn’t sure whether she knows that, though.

“Sure about that?”

Coraline scoffs and turns to continue packing dried, clean plates into the cupboards. “You’re worse than Dan, sometimes.”

“Oh, I take offence to that.”

“Shut up and finish the dishes.” Coraline chuckles, crossing her arms and scowling at the lack of crockery left to dry.

“Just don’t write things off so quickly,” she insists, “It might surprise you.”

...

Daniel and Kimmy had tried to persuade them to stay for drinks late into the evening. The boys were shipped off to bed at the usual time, complaining that they wanted to stay up instead, as usual. But Marcus has work in the morning and Coraline has a long string of interviews; the idea of a late-night sounds less than ideal, her eyes already stinging at the idea of staying up any later than they had it.

Instead, they’d make their excuses and leave, ducking away into Coraline’s car with an exhausted groan. The boys had run wild right up until they went to sleep, nagging Coraline and Marcus to play with them every five minutes, even as Kimmy and Daniel insisted that they settle down and get ready for bed. It’s still late when they leave, though. D.C is eerily quiet as they weave through the roads, small crowds of people scattered through the repeating streets of suburbia.

The car ride home is silent of their voices. Not that uncomfortable silence, from before, when things had been awkward between them and neither of them were sure where the other stood. But that kind of satiated, happy and, admittedly exhausted, silence that pools over them. The low hum of the car engine and the radio is persistent in the space between them. Marcus keeps stealing glances over at her as she drives; he can’t help it, but he doesn’t think she notices, her eyes far too focused on the road ahead of her. And, if she does, she doesn’t mention it. Just keeps letting him glance over at her as the street lights illuminate the gentle angles of her face.

He’s glad she never mentions anything. He’d be too embarrassed if she did.

Instead, she’s lost in the music. That blissful flicker of emotion that crosses her face when she hears a song she likes, when her eyes light up at the sound of one of her favourite songs. Her radio is always tuned into some old rock station - he has no idea what it’s called, it’s usually just a continuous loop of different songs cut with the low gravelly voice of a man who sounded like he’d smoked one too many cigars - and most of the songs are the same songs she’s playing on her record player when he arrives at her apartment and she’s dancing around the kitchen while she cooks. He recognises a lot of them from his college days, songs he used to play with his band. It makes him feel old, sometimes, when she tells him they’re songs she spent her teen years with, even though there aren’t too many years between them.

It’s I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing that plays now; she’s a sucker for those objectively-cheesy rock ballads. They’re her mom’s favourites, too. And, maybe he won’t admit it, but Marcus has heard her favourites enough to count them amongst his, now. Maybe he just likes the way they make her smile. Coraline is humming along, her fingers drumming a steady rhythm against the top of the steering wheel idly as her eyes follow the road ahead. Every so often, a flicker of neon tints her in colour when they pass a takeout, the only things still open and busy. The curve of her profile and each curl of her hair is highlighted in red.

It’s these moments of distracted bliss, when everything seems to exist without a care in the world, that he likes the most.

It never lasts long enough.

He insists she just parks in the garage she usually uses, by her apartment building, and he’ll walk her home. She protests - because of course she does - offering to drive him all the way home instead, but it’s dark and even in this quiet, well-off part of town where the streets should be safe, you never know who might be lurking. Maybe it’s the things he’s seen and heard of in the FBI - everything he’s seen during his training, heard through whispers and stories in the office - but sometimes he can’t shake the simple action of making sure someone is safe.

It’s still silent between them as they near Coraline’s apartment complex. That short two minute walk down the quiet, tree-lined street that sparkles with chains of fairy lights. It’s lethargic and lingering, each step heavy with the weight of something that echoes through the quiet neighbourhood.

“Cora, I’m sorry.”

It comes out of nowhere and it worries her. And Coraline has absolutely no idea why Marcus is apologising to her. As far as she’s concerned, he hasn’t done anything wrong. At least, not that she knows of.

“For what?” She questions, brow furrowing up at him as they walk. Their hands keep brushing but she doesn’t have it in her to move her hand away.

“I had no right to drop the baby bomb on you like that,” he admits. He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck uncomfortably. When his hand drops, his fingers brush against her knuckles. “I’m sorry if I made you feel trapped. It was a terrible idea. I should have thought-“

“Yes,” she blurts it out before she can stop herself. She’s not entirely sure she’s thought this through. But she can’t help it.

“Yes, what?”

“The offer.” Her whisper is loud in the suddenly-stifling silence of the street. “If it’s still on the table- yes. I’ll have a baby with you.”

“Coraline-” He gulps and stops dead in his tracks. They’re outside her gate, now. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“And you won’t.” Coraline insists. She steps closer to him, sea-green eyes staring up at him with heavy expectation. He’s the one that suggested it. He’s the one that had laid in bed until the early hours of the morning, losing precious moments of sleep as his brain swam with questions, wondering whether he should suggest this to her in the first place, or if it was an awful idea. But, somehow, he can’t seem to convince himself that this is a bad idea, that he should just let her down easy, now. It’s seeing her with Piper, seeing her with Maisie, seeing how she lights up around them.

If he can make her that happy, every single day, why the hell would he turn that opportunity down?

Besides, he’s pretty sure it would make him equally as happy. He’s thought about having kids since he was just a kid himself. And god knows the world seemed to have it out for him when it came to love, things aren’t happening any time soon; he can’t really think of anyone better than Coraline to have a baby with.

And, as much as Coraline knows how recklessly stupid the whole idea is, she can’t bring herself to want anything more or less than this. Than him. “It is a terrible idea, y’know?” She finds herself insisting, blinking up at him with those beautifully-wide eyes.

“Truly awful.”

“And there are a hundred different things that could go wrong.”

“Hundreds.”

“But-“

“Maybe we should… try? Maybe just for a little while. See what happens.”

“Maybe we should.” He exhales long and deep out of his nose. “Maybe…” He tilts her chin up towards his with one finger and suddenly he’s kissing her. His fingers brush her jaw, curving up towards her ear and brushing into her hairline at the nape of her neck. Even the soft touch of his hand against hers as they walked was driving her insane but this, this is on another level.

It’s more than the first time they kissed. Less of a brief touch of lips, more of a wave of relief flooding through them both, unfamiliar feelings surging up inside them. This kiss is full of urging anticipation. She’s pulling him closer to her before she can stop herself, their chests flush, lips and hands strong and insistent against each other.

The fumble to her front door seems like the most practised thing they’ve ever done. Familiar when it shouldn’t be, even as they bump into things on their way.

taglist: @wheresthewater

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x fem!oc #marcus pike #sudden desire #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x oc #the mentalist #original character #oc

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thoseofgreatambition · 4 years

Text

Good Points || Rut

pt 1 | pt 2

description: fred isn’t your patient anymore, but despite what ought to be an end to your conversations he seeks you out, and attempts to break your routine.

a/n: this is part of the lovely @pit-and-the-pen‘s 100 follower event! sorry i’m late to the party Kaylah, but I hope this angst helps you forgive me <3. the full sentences that are bold are from her event.

warnings: depression, not proof read, death

taglist: @harrysweasleys @geeksareunique @insearchofnewdreams @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @lumos-barnes @thatfuckingliardavidtennant @slytherinqween @xinyourdreamsx @skiving-snackboxess @wildfire-whizbangs @dwarfwizard-from-panem @diary-of-an-onliner @answer-the-sirens @woakiees @black-widow-fangirl @theheirofnightandday @summerstardust @whysoseriouspadfoot @chocok22 @myhopesareanchoredinyou @siriusblackisme @illusivedaydreamer @zeeneee @writingwitchly @wolfpotter12 @obsessedwithrandomthings @carolinesbookworld @shadowsinger11 @pit-and-the-pen @summer-writes @peachesandpinks @ickle-ronniekins @gweaslvy @alpinewinchester

Fred Weasley had been your patient for about eighteen months.

Fred Weasley had stopped being your patient about two months ago.

He had joked about you mourning the loss of him, now that he wasn’t your patient. So far though your life trudged on like normal. You went to work. You did your best. You went home to your flat. You opened the windows to let in fresh air. You ate. You slept.

Rinse. Wash. Repeat.

It was your routine. Your rut.

You’d kept the chair where Fred had sat on your table the same spot it’d been when he left. Blatantly facing away from the table.

It’d been the first ‘spice’ in your life in a while.

That night, you had shaken up your routine. You had gone out to eat at a muggle place near your home. The book you had brought was gathering a neat row of crumbs down the middle no matter how neatly you were trying to eat the chips you’d bought.

You were more hungry than you usually were-- perhaps you’d splurge and buy another plate. Perhaps it was all the running around you’d done that day. Perhaps it was trying to heal that man who’d lost a duel and decided to argue with you about it.

Perhaps it was about the young couple who’d died after being attacked. Perhaps it was the way the man had cried out for his wife when she had passed away in the other room. Perhaps it was the screaming.

Perhaps you could order another plate. Perhaps you could order some fish as well.

Perhaps you weren’t fond of your job anymore.

Perhaps you were too scared to deviate from it.

Perhaps--

“Y/N! Fancy seeing you here.” Like someone out of a fever dream, Fred Weasley slid into your booth and gave you another one of those odd smiles. “Did you miss me?”

It took a few moments for your mind to adjust to the change in your routine. “How-- How come you’re here?”

“Fate. Happenstance. That red string thing that Cho talked about in the D.A. meetings.” “I didn’t go to those. I was too busy trying to hex you.”

Fred shrugged, “Just as well. You’d have been harder to trick if you had gone.” Annoyingly, you still seemed stuck on your initial question. “We became friends and after I stopped needing you as a healer you stopped talking to me.”

“You decided we were friends.”

“You laughed at my jokes while I was in my boxers. We are friends.”

Of course that was the moment the waitress decided to pop in. With a huff you ordered another plate of fish and chips, along with a shake. Fred ordered the same, and watched you snap your book closed. “How did you know I was here?”

“You told me that you liked to eat here before. You weren’t at the hospital, so I checked here.”

“Why?”

“I already told you why.” You continued to stare at him without comprehension. Finally he decided to speak again. “We’re friends.”

“Are we?”

“We are. Is it so strange that I’d want to talk to you?”

Instead of answering, you popped another chip into your mouth and turned to look out the window. If you were a better person, you would be attempting more of a discussion, but you were simply tired as all hell. “I guess not. You seem like the type to attach to people.” “You’re very good at this whole empathy thing.” “Thank you Fred. How’s the shop?” “It’s closed.” “I know that, how’s the reopening going?” “It’s going to stay closed.” His voice sounded like one that was forced to stay cheerful. “I quit. It’s going to stay closed. And I’ll sell the land once it’s a good time. Make a profit.”

Your eyebrow arched. “He wouldn’t have liked that.” ��You didn’t know him.” Fred’s voice dropped the pretense of joy as the waitress dropped off your food. “How do you know what he would have liked?”

“You’re reacting to your trauma without thinking about it. Just like when you dyed your hair and shaved it all off.”

“I wish your memory was worse, you know.”

“Sucks for you then, Weasley.”

Thoughtfully he took a bite of his fish, and spoke with his mouth full. “What about you? How’s the job? Feeling fulfilled and all that horseshit?”

“Nope. Might quit.”

To that, Fred’s eyes sparked with some emotion you couldn’t place. You picked at your food. Hungry, without feeling much joy at eating. “Why would you quit?”

“It doesn’t make me happy. Not anymore. I liked it when I was training in Germany. But I hate it here. It’s too hard. You can do everything right and people still die. Or do your best and still have someone try and hex you blind. There’s no sense to it.”

The light in Fred’s eyes looked akin to the man who’d died that day after his wife passed. Confusion and pain. “Maybe talk to your folks then?” “They kicked it during the war. My family. I was training out of the country and got an owl. Don’t know who did it. House was set on fire. The neighbor found the bodies. Said they’d been hiding squibs and muggleborns.” you didn’t like the sight of his shocked eyes on you.

“You said you didn’t know what it was like to lose a brother.”

“Lied. It didn’t seem conducive to your healing.” You locked eyes with the man before you. “They poured their savings into me being a healer. I won’t let them down.”

“You deserve to be happy.”

“Can’t seem to hack that yet.” you were quiet for a bit before speaking a little, “Have you been happy then? Now that you’re in outpatient. Don’t have me bullying you anymore.”

“You’ve been rude to me this entire night.”

“Bullying you every day then.”

“Not happy all the time. Better than before.” His voice slipped away for a bit before he spoke again. “Working on my anger. I destroyed the inside of the shop.”

“Did it make you feel better?”

“No. Ron and Percy had to disarm me. They thought I was about to bring down the entire shop over our heads. Or kill someone.”

You gave a soft hum, and let another moment of silence pass you both by. “Anger’s normal. I learned that in my training.”

“Learn anything else helpful in your training?” “What arteries can make someone bleed out in less than a minute.”

Another bite. This time he had the grace to finish his food before speaking. “Remind me not to piss you off then.”

“Too late.” Finally, you gave him the smallest of smiles. “Tell me the real reason you came.”

“I told you. Haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“That’s not the real reason, and I know it Fred.”

The silence was loud in both of their ears. Finally Fred spoke. “My Mum asked about you again.”

Your eyes narrowed, your brows quirked. “Didn’t know she asked about me a first time.”

“She did. She wanted to invite you to dinner for a while. Yelled at me a bit for not inviting you over yet. Figured you’d say no.”

Thoughtfully you chewed on your food. “Probably would have. It’s improper for a healer to get too close to their patients.”

“You’re not my healer anymore.”

At that you were quiet again. All sense of appetite lost. “Tonights the first time I’ve had a meal with someone since I came back from Germany, you know. I’m not sure I’d make fun dinner company for your family.”

“All the more reason. Mum likes adopting strays.” He grinned at your glare. “You’ll come to dinner, and you’ll be a little less lonely.”

“Never said I was lonely, Fred.”

“You didn’t have to. You have the same look I do.”

#Fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley oneshot #my writing #my imagines #fic; Good points

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writerman · 4 years

Text

Elrond x Thranduil Commission

Hello!

This is a commissioned fic that the wonderful and ever so talented artist @neonelysium requested.

Title: A Life Of Expectation

Word Count: 7,206

Ship: Elronduil. Elrond X Thranduil (In case the post title wasn’t obvious enough ahaha)

Please enjoy and if you want to commission something please let me know via IM!

Thank you.

A Life Of Expectation

Thranduil was jolted awake when the landau carriage came to a stop suddenly. A horse at the front of the carriage gave a discontented whinny but quietens down almost immediately after the coachman shushes it.

They were home, it seemed, and the weather was dreadful.

The loud patter of the rain on the hood of the carriage was near deafening and Thranduil wondered how he had managed to sleep through the downpour for so long. How typical that the weather found a way to match the seriousness of his reason for returning home.

All he could do for a moment was stare up at the stately home that loomed above him under the dark and dreary sky. The evening had already begun to set in and the meagre light Thranduil had was fast fading but he did not fail to notice the imposing figure stood at the door accompanied by one of their house staff holding a lamp up at their side.

His father.

Of course, he would await his arrival in such a manner.

Fussing with the cuffs of his shirt beneath the sleeves of his jacket, Thranduil stalled for time, his eyes now firmly on his task rather than the lamp that cast an eerie shadow over his father. While Thranduil could honestly say he did not fear his father, he certainly did not wish to disappoint him. However, with the rumours flying fast at his college, this was the first time Thranduil did feel fear simply because he had seen his father’s anger before but this time it would be directed at him.

Sullying the family name had not been a worry for his father before now because as far as he was concerned he had raised a decent and intelligent boy in Thranduil but the longer he stayed away from home the less that seemed so.

The carriage door was yanked open and the white face of the coachman greeted Thranduil’s with a grim demeanour. Moments later he stepped aside and an umbrella was thrown open to shield Thranduil from the rain.

This is it, Thran. There is no turning back you must face this like a man. The dread that filled his entire being weighed him down like his bones had been replaced with lead and he stumbled inelegantly out of the carriage.

Once his feet were on solid ground and not the slippery steps he righted himself and took the umbrella from gloved hands with a quiet thank you. The coachman merely nodded and walked away apparently unfazed by the torrential rain pouring over him.

As he approached the house he could not discern his father’s features so cast in shadow that they were, but he remained unmoving and the only sound was the thundering rain and a small ‘Welcome home, Master Thranduil,’ from the maid holding the lamp.

“Hurry inside now, we don’t have all night for this.” Oropher finally spoke, the anger a sharp edge gilding a tired tone. A voice rough from lack of sleep likely the countless hours spent agonising over what to do with his wayward son.

Moving faster, Thranduil reached the steps and watched as his father turned and walked inside with the maid close behind. There was no greeting as there had been many times before and it further reminded Thranduil that the reason he was home was a black cloud that hung heavy over his and his father’s relationship.

Would they no longer be close after this?

As much as Thranduil had tried to deny the rumours the evidence was mounting against him with each passing day. No longer sure who he could trust in such times he knew it was time to go home and face the music.

Before the door had even closed behind him someone was taking the umbrella from his hands and tugging off his coat. The action of doing these things himself was taken away from him and now there was only the moment he had dreaded since first leaving university.

But the scolding he had expected did not come and in the low light of the lamps in the hallway, Thranduil could see just how tired his father was and guilt washed over him like a tidal wave.

“Warm yourself up, the cook will likely still have something for you to eat. I do not want to see you tonight. Tomorrow we will discuss everything I have heard and you will try as best you can to explain yourself. Yes?” There was no room for argument and Thranduil found he really did not want to put up a fight. Food and sleep were a welcome distraction and the time he had been gifted with would allow him to get his story straight.

His response was just to nod until Oropher raised a brow and Thranduil meekly uttered ‘Yes, sir.’ before turning away from him to hide from his father’s sight as requested.

The walk of shame did not last long as he was accosted by his mother who threw her arms around him and kissed both of his cheeks. She was as radiant as ever even dressed in her nightclothes.

“My baby boy you’ve come home at last!” Her sunny attitude a far cry from his father’s and he wondered if Oropher hadn’t told her as to why he had returned. It wasn’t like his father to hide things from his wife, lest she knew but did not care?

Unlikely, but it was nice to dream.

What kind of world would it be that you could love whoever you wanted?

“My sweet Thran, oh look at you, cold and tired. You had better be going down to the kitchens. The cook will sort you something warm, have him prepare a pot of tea and I will be with you soon.” The love which she radiated made everything seem just a little bit better to Thranduil but she had always been the same.

Lively and full of joy.

She and his father were a perfect match with his dry sense of humour and her vivacious personality always needing to shine through. She would laugh so gaily at his father linking her arm through his as they walked the gardens in summer.

As a child, Thranduil had wanted that for himself so dearly, but as the years went by he began to realise it was never meant to be. The pretty girls of the countryside did not turn his head, their fanciful dresses and ribboned hair meant nothing to him. Often times he would find himself mute before them unable to find any sort of common ground in which a conversation could be had.

Though this was often misconstrued and he soon found the reputation of being a quiet but romantic soul had been pushed upon him without consult. It made him irresistible to women much to his dismay.

The first man to ever turn his head had been Lord Bard Bowman, his dark wavy hair and bright smile had bowled a young teenage Thranduil over. The first time he had ever seen him was when his father had returned from a day hunt with him.

They were chatting brightly about nonsense Thranduil cared little for, and Oropher had introduced Bard to him proudly. Oropher had called Thranduil over and threw an arm around his shoulders bringing him closer to the horses while Bard moved forward to shake his hand.

“Hello, young man. Your father tells me you will be heading off to university next year?” He wasn’t as old as Oropher, Thranduil had noticed that right away, there were no lines to show a more mature age on this man’s face.

A young lord from Wales he had been told, that was the accent, he had brought his wife and their first child to the English countryside for work and it had worked out marvellously for him. He owned a fleet of merchant ships that sailed all over the world to lands that Thranduil could only dream of seeing one day.

To Thranduil’s delight, Bard had been invited to dinner that evening with his wife and young daughter, Sigrid, who was a mere 3 years old and was fascinated with Thranduil’s hair from the moment she saw it. While she would reach out to grab the white-blond strands Thranduil busied himself with asking many questions about the other countries Bard had sent his ships to and found that the man himself had often sailed with a crew too.

“Not so much now there is a family to come home to but when we have more time I will tell you everything you want to know about any country I’ve set foot on.”

Thankfully, Oropher had seen the adoration as nothing more than hero worship and would urge Thranduil to visit Bard when he could. There was always a lesson to be had from someone somewhere.

Everything about Lord Bard Bowman was impressive but Thranduil knew better than to act on any feelings he might have had. It was unfair to Bard and his family to have to deal with such shame.

Never in his life had Thranduil seen a man love another man and for the longest time, he felt as though he might have been the only person in the world to feel that way. A solitary figure wandering through a world that he would never find a place in.

His only distraction was studying and so he dedicated his time to books. A noble pursuit according to his father but Thranduil was relying on the boredom of the books to stifle any feelings inside him to the point he was more a shell than man.

The memory of Bard was a special one, he was a kind and honest man, someone Thranduil hoped he could trust one day. If his world should fall apart by his own hands he had no other option but to leave his family and country behind.

If that time should ever come about he would trust Bard would help him.

The cook greeted him brightly when he entered the kitchen and he set down a plate of food for him along with a pot of tea. He must have known his mother would be along soon because he only offered a smile before leaving the kitchen altogether.

He wasn’t much hungry even after the long trip home and so could only push the food around his plate with his fork until his mother appeared at the door and urged him to eat as she always did.

His mother took a seat next to her son and poured herself tea, she was wearing a quilted housecoat embroidered with delicate pink and white flowers, a gift from his father years ago that she held dear to her even now.

“You know why I came home, don’t you?”

Silence.

Thranduil watched as his mother regarded him over the rim of her teacup before nodding to show she did indeed understand why he was home midterm. Her expression wasn’t like his father’s; there was no hardness to her gaze; she felt sorrow for his situation but she did not hide her heart from him.

“Is it true?” A simple question but Thranduil could already feel the weight of his answer and he let his gaze fall to his plate when he nodded. “I knew, I have always known.” It wasn’t the response he had expected but nor was it the response he really wanted either because how could he lie to his father’s face when he had told his mother the truth?

“Don’t tell your father it is true, please, Thranduil. Don’t let him know, it would crush him.” Of course, this was about his father’s feelings and not his, of course!

Dropping the fork he let it clatter onto the table as he got to his feet and he stepped away with the intent of walking out of the kitchen with nothing to say to his mother but he couldn’t. He could not hold his tongue.

“Yes, it would crush him but I am the one that has to live this way in a world where I cannot find a piece of happiness. But, of course, it would hurt my father and all he has done for this family because his son had to ruin the perfect image everyone has of us.” Thranduil didn’t bother waiting to hear his mother’s attempts to soothe him because there was nothing she could say that would make any of this better and so he left the kitchen and slammed the door behind him.

The solitude of his bedroom was that which he so desperately needed. No students there to interrupt him, no parents to bother him because neither really wanted to see him now and who was he to argue with that? No, it was just the sweet blessed darkness of a childhood bedroom and the gnawing feeling of fatigue that lingered at the edges of his mind.

There was no lamps lit when he entered his room, but Thranduil had spent enough time there in his life to know the layout of the room with his eyes closed. He navigated his way past the desk and his bed to the large window facing out toward the extensive gardens and the woodland beyond it.

The rain still lashed down over the land and the wind battered the windows shaking them in their frames at the ferocity of it. The perfect weather to mirror the mood he had fallen into. The anger washing over him blotted out any guilt or fear he had when first arriving home, the anger he needed far more and he would hold it inside himself until it solidified into something hard and impenetrable.

From then on his anger would be his armour.

He spent the evening sitting in solitude by his window watching as the heavens fell and he wondered that if it continued to rain would the world be washed away? Could it start again with open minds and hearts?

Wishful thinking, the kind of thoughts he’d had as a child. The kind of thoughts his father rushed out of his head as soon as he was old enough to comprehend that all actions had consequences and that God was always watching.

When his thoughts grew dark, Thranduil found it better to sleep than to ruminate and so with heaviness in his heart and a mind filled to the brim with unease he took himself to bed.

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair. It was not usually so.

His mother was not her cheery self and his father did not even raise his gaze to him as Thranduil entered the room.

It was easy for his disheartened demeanour to continue when his existence seemed disturbing and he was the source of village gossip. The countryside population had always been a mire of whispers and sideways glances but Thranduil had never been at the centre of it.

“I’ve arranged for you to meet one of the local girls this evening. She’s from a good family and very beautiful.” Oropher picked up his teacup as he spoke, eyes still on the newspaper in front of him. After taking a drink from his cup he finally regarded his son with a dull expression. “It would be in your best interests to make an effort to impress her.” That was it, that was the extent of their conversation about the rumours from the university.

Thranduil had never expected anything in-depth from his father on something that could shatter the reputation of the family name. It wasn’t as though he understood what Thranduil had done or how he felt because falling in love with men just wasn’t done.

And if it was, Thranduil desperately wished to know where because the English countryside was no place for him and likely it never would be.

When Thranduil did not respond to his father he was given a sharp glare before he nodded, though further defying his father by not opening his mouth not even once to eat.

Was he not an adult now?

To be treated this way by a man who was supposed to love and respect you regardless of who you were- it seemed that those actions came with conditions. Who knew a family was a contract?

Would he be billed at the end of his time with them in his childhood home?

He stayed seated at the table long after his father and mother had left him for other things, even after the table had been cleared away, though someone was kind enough to bring in a tray with fresh tea for him.

After a long moment, Thranduil found the will to move and he poured himself tea. Picking the cup up he moved from his seat at the table and wandered to the window and watched as the gardener discussed something with his mother.

How easy the world seemed to be when you knew you could belong without scorn or the threat of hellfire consuming you after you took your last breath. Thranduil had seen and heard what was said about men that loved other men and for a brief moment, he understood what his parents were so upset about.

In his own way his father was trying to protect him, he supposed but it seemed a harsh and unloving way to go about it. Thranduil would not forgive them for what they had said and done, he doubted he would for a long time.

For the remainder of his day, he avoided them and purposely would leave the room should they enter any he was already occupying. They seemed to understand and did not speak to him or rather, they might have been pleased that they did not have to.

After several failed meetings between himself and the young ladies chosen for him, Thranduil received a stern warning from his father to try harder and with that was promptly handed an invitation.

Oropher had arranged for Thranduil to escort a young lady to a dance held at another home in the village. He was under strict instructions to impress her with his wit and charm, though it was mentioned his good looks would do most of the work for him should he be lacking in conversation.

While most of this was said with a smile from Oropher, his son did not reciprocate and instead, he contended with the bile rising in his throat and churning nausea that threatened his constitution.

Her name was Rose and she was beautiful. Any man with eyes could see she was someone that would turn heads wherever she went and she was of a gentle disposition, soft-spoken with a sweet smile.

Honestly, Thranduil did appreciate her beauty, with her long brunette hair starkly contrasting her ivory skin scattered with light freckles over her nose, along with the pale pink tinge at her cheeks and blue eyes darker than the night sky. She was even sweet to talk to. Their conversation in the carriage was short yet interesting, but it did nothing for him and he knew it never would.

They made for a beautiful pair as they entered the room where the party was held. Many heads turned as Thranduil walked in with Rose on his arm, and many exchanged money in the darker corners, mostly out of sight, when Thranduil managed an almost pained smile at his partner for the evening.

“I know it might seem, perhaps, a tad presumptuous to do this but I would like to introduce you to my brother.” Rose tugged gently at Thranduil’s arm and led him across the room toward a man standing with his back to them, they were talking to who Thranduil assumed was their mother.

“We’re rather close and it would mean a lot to me that you and he got on well,” So Oropher had already told Rose’s family that Thranduil would propose regardless of the length of time they had known one another?

Well, he hadn’t exactly thought his father was that sneaky but he had definitely underestimated the old man more than he could ever imagine. What had essentially happened was that Thranduil had just met his wife for the first time, and while he was horrified at the prospect of being coerced into a marriage by his own family... he could not help but feel that this was the only way that would earn his father’s love and respect again.

Pushing this to the back of his mind he offered a genuine smile as Rose introduced her brother Elrond to him. They shook hands and made small talk until Rose spirited him away to the dance floor for 20 minutes leaving her brother alone with their mother again.

Eventually, Rose was near press-ganged by her friends to join them in a song by the piano and Thranduil was free to wander as he liked, and he headed straight for the door to the gardens for fresh air away from the noise of the music and laughter inside.

He found that he was not completely alone as Rose’s brother was standing admiring a small apple tree growing by the fence that separated a stable yard from the garden. He realises he is also not alone and turns to face Thranduil with a shy smile gracing his lips.

His hair was long and dark like his sister’s but his eyes, Thranduil could see under lamplight, were dove grey, almost lighter than his.

“Ah, Thranduil, yes?” The small flutter in Thranduil’s stomach when Elrond spoke was entirely unnecessary and he did not appreciate it in the slightest. This was not what he needed right now even if it was just the tiniest feeling of excitement he didn’t want it!

Elrond continued before he was given a chance to respond.

“I know that you will propose to my sister soon even if this evening was the first time you’ve met her and I just wanted to let you know that she’s very excited to be married.” Under the glow of the lamplight, his blush seemed almost bronze and it was the most enchanting thing Thranduil had ever seen. “Rosie has always been the one for romance but she understands that sometimes in life you do not get to truly pick that which you want but… I believe she was done by quite well when matched with you.”

There was a moment when Thranduil felt his breath catch in his throat at Elrond’s words, had he entirely misconstrued the meaning or was this man reaching out to him trying to convey something more?

“I suppose everybody in the village knows that Rose and I have just met but I also suppose they know we are to marry soon too,” Thranduil tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear that had fallen loose from his tie and he caught sight of Elrond biting his lip nervously before looking away.

This man was hiding something, something he wanted to say but knew it was, perhaps, too rude or improper to bring it up. Something the village would find wildly indecent to speak on lest behind closed doors!

“If you have something you need to say do not be shy, you are soon to be my brother, are you not?”

This seemed to help Elrond find his words but still, he did not speak and he only gestured for Thranduil to follow him further into the garden.

Such an action would only be criticised by his father should he find out and, ideally, Thranduil should have said no to save his already tattered reputation but he did not and instead he followed his soon to be brother-in-law into the garden.

“Rosie does not know why you two are to be married so quickly, and I think it is best she never finds out and she won’t, not from my mouth anyhow!” He looked nervous as he spoke and he cast more than a few glances over his shoulder as they walked. It put Thranduil on edge and he was eager to return to the dance so as to ensure his face was seen as much as possible to keep him in his father’s good graces.

It hit him then suddenly what Elrond had wanted to say and he grabbed the man by the wrist and pulled him to face him. Their chests bumped before Thranduil neatly took a step back to keep space between them and so as not to reveal how hard his heart thundered in his chest at their close proximity.

“If you mean to threaten me into taking care of your sister to ensure you do not reveal my secret you are going about it exactly the wrong way.” Thranduil’s voice came out as a hiss, his anger born from the panic that rose in his chest and the words came out strangled with edges he could not soothe into something more composed.

“No, no you misunderstand me.” Elrond pulled his wrist from Thranduil’s grip and rubbed the sore spot left behind. His expression one of dismay as if Thranduil had betrayed his trust but he pressed on. “Why would I threaten to reveal your nature, it would be hypocritical of me to do so when I am hiding the exact same thing from those I hold dear to me.”

Oh. oh.

The world slammed into focus for Thranduil and he turned on his heel to walk away but not before whispering to Elrond that they should meet another time. A dark garden was no place for two men to be seen talking.

His words prompted Elrond into moving from his spot and he hurried past Thranduil and into the party before him hopefully ensuring no one thought anything untoward. In the meantime, Thranduil retook his spot out by the door as though he had been there the entire time and he was soon found by Rose asking him to meet her friends.

The night soon wound down and Rose was escorted home by Thranduil and Elrond, and she talked excitedly between them in the carriage about the music and her friends. It made Thranduil feel sad that she was so full of life and so excited to be married to him when he could offer her nothing- he wondered how marriage would be with her?

Would they ever be truly happy?

All he could offer was friendship masked as a relationship but he had a feeling she was clever enough to see through that with ease and how would she react when she found out that he was unable to give her children?

It would break her heart, likely.

That was no life for someone so spirited and sweet. But if he did not marry her what would become of him?

Part of him knew it was unfair to trap the young woman and that the right thing to do would be for him to leave and never return. His family reputation be damned!- The other part of him knew there was cowardice within him and it forced itself to the forefront of his mind and clouded his heart.

As though sensing his unease, Rose took Thranduil’s hand in hers and smiled up at him and he saw years down the line in the blink of an eye, how that sunny smile would be the first to go and how his anger and pain would be the reason for it. The beautiful flower that she was would wilt and in time she would become as miserable as he had felt for all those years.

Frightened by the very thought of it Thranduil had to stop himself from wrenching his hand from hers in a bid not to cause a stir. Instead, he pretended to stifle a yawn and then apologise which she could only laugh at before shaking her head at him.

He did not fail to catch Elrond watching him from the other side of Rose, he looked concerned but this time did not seem to want to bring it to his attention and for that Thranduil was grateful.

Life seemed very uneventful after that evening for a short while. There was a wedding to plan and Thranduil was expected to keep up appearances with his betrothed, and so they spent many an afternoon out walking or visiting friends and family. While this was all rather tame it was very boring and Thranduil could not shake the feeling that it was all very disingenuous on his part.

“I feel like an actor,” Thranduil stated one afternoon. He and Elrond were sitting in the library of Elrond’s family home, a marvellous place the first in the world to be powered by electricity and it was all done via water from the lake by the house.

“How so?” Elrond frowned as he looked up from his book, the light coming in from the large windows around them illuminated every part of his face and Thranduil took a deep breath to steady the fire igniting in his veins.

“I am given lines to repeat to friends and family. A fabrication of the relationship lives in everyone’s mind even with Rose. How can this be fair to her?” It was easy to feel safe and secure in such a place, how can somewhere filled with light all day and night be a place he could not trust?

The book Elrond had been browsing was set down on the table and closed after the page was marked. An expression of concern was clear on his face as he sat back in his seat and clasped his hands together, his light eyes trained on Thranduil leaving him feeling laid bare before the other man.

“There isn’t anything I could say to make this better.” Blunt but it was the truth no matter how you sliced it. But it wasn’t helpful and Thranduil didn’t like the way his insides squirmed at how Elrond looked at him even if it was completely innocent.

“Can you at least try?” Thranduil joked and they both shared a smile.

“I could tell you that everything will be fine and that the world will open its eyes and see that a man loving a man isn’t a bad thing, but wouldn’t you think me cruel to lie to you like that?”

“Is it any crueller for me to lie to your sister in the same way?”

“Thranduil, please. Rose is happy and this keeps you safe. What else is there for you to do but accept it?” The question in his voice held a desperate edge and Thranduil knew it was because his friend was running out of things to say to him on the subject of his upcoming marriage.

He had to stop putting him on the spot like that.

“Are you to be married soon?” Of course, they both knew Elrond was not engaged to anyone and so far his mother had not given any signs that she wished for him to marry but the time would soon come and what would he do then?

“No. I am unsure what I will do when she asks me to meet the daughters of her friends. Rosie mentioned once or twice that she had someone in mind for me but Thranduil like you I cannot bear the idea of such pretence.

I hope and pray that one morning I shall wake up and I will find myself deeply in love with a woman to ease the suffering I feel each day and to save my mother some heartache.” It seemed that this too like it did Thranduil, played upon Elrond’s mind daily. They were stuck in a mire of trying to ease their pain and keep themselves safe from the prying eyes and ears of those that might wish harm upon them for the lives they truly wished to lead.

“There is nothing wrong with us!” Thranduil was out of his seat and on his feet in seconds, he pulled Elrond from his seat and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Did that feel wrong to you? Do you hope to never experience what feels right to you again?” He staggered back when Elrond planted his hands to his chest and pushed him back but in the haze of joy and bravado he scarcely heard Elrond reprimand him.

“How dare you? Anyone could have seen us here!” He was hugging his own middle as he spoke, trying to cover whatever shame had burrowed into the pit of his stomach that would not shift until the day was through. “If we had been seen that would have been the end for both of us? What do you think was going to happen if you did that?!”

It was easy to feel at home in the spaces filled with light, it was easy to feel safe there and enact whatever he felt inside. His friendship with Elrond had flourished into something close and meaningful. However, Thranduil did understand that his part of the friendship was more than that, but with his bold actions, the consequences could have it come crashing down around him.

He had to apologise but he did not feel sorry for what he had done, still, he knew he had to fix any damage the kiss had wrought upon the friendship.

“I’m sorry, I wanted to prove to you that there wasn’t anything wrong with who we were, I just went about it the wrong way.” It was enough to settle Elrond and he accepted the apology.

Letting his hands fall to his sides for a moment, Elrond remained silent, getting his thoughts in order before he opened his arms to Thranduil and beckoned him to him. They shared a long embrace and Thranduil felt his entire being relax because this was what he needed the love and acceptance of someone who understood.

He loved Elrond he knew that much and even if it was not reciprocated it was better than nothing to him. The embrace would be in his thoughts for a long time; it would help him through moments wherein he believed he could no longer go on.

“I did not want you to be right, Thranduil. I did not want to admit that your kiss felt right because then it confirmed that I was truly a man that loved other men. My life can never be the way it was intended for me but it does also give me power over my own life even if no one but you knows such.” That was enough for now and Elrond retook his seat and picked up his book again signalling the end of that conversation.

The man looked frazzled beyond belief and Thrandhi felt it unfair to carry on when his friend was clearly at his ends. Their day went on as normal after that and the conversation they had was brighter and casual.

They parted ways after that and Thranduil returned home feeling lighter than he had in months. Finding someone who understood, who confirmed he was not alone renewed his energy and when he greeted his parents with a smile they both seemed rather taken aback.

Neither mentioned the sudden change in their son, in fact, they just seemed relieved. While the conversation was still strained they found him more agreeable for the next few days and the atmosphere in their home, that was once rife with hostility, had calmed to something less uneasy.

Thranduil wasn’t ready to forgive them, he likely wouldn’t be for a long time, if at all! But there was some peace at least and for him, however short-lived it was, that was enough to tide him over while he thought over his options for the future.

Truthfully, he knew he could not marry Rose. She deserved someone that would try and drag the stars down from the very skies for her, she did not deserve someone that, at most, would only grow fond of her but never give her the emotional availability that she would need for a healthy relationship.

Just because he would be miserable did not mean Rose needed the same fate.

The next time he saw Elrond the sun was bright in the sky above them and Rose had suggested tea out in the garden. She was bright and cheerful as usual though distracted by her cousin’s visit and their brand new baby girl, so she often excused herself to coo over the child.

Elrond and Thranduil shared a look that said ‘oh dear.’ but said nothing on the matter, instead turning to small talk about the weather and family until everyone was out of earshot. This was when Thranduil took his chance to speak to his friend on what he truly wished to say.

“I want you to run away with me.”

It was sudden and, of course, quite out of character for Thranduil to be so very impulsive but it had been all he could think of for days. All he could think of since he had kissed Elrond in the library.

Poor Elrond nearly dropped his teacup and saucer as he stared wide-eyed at his friend across the table. He didn’t say anything because, well, what could he say to that?

Scandalous, of course, this handsome blond man trying to seduce his fiancee’s brother and convince him to run away with him, but it was an adventure and who didn’t love the idea of an adventure?

“You are just trying to make me laugh, aren’t you?” Elrond’s voice was a scared and small thing that barely passed his lips and the sound of it deflated any bravado Thranduil had because he knew this would not end well.

Resigned to this fact Thranduil shook his head.

“No, I’ve thought about it for days. Imagine sailing off to a new life somewhere in the world where judging eyes would never come.” The urgency in his voice did not register with Elrond and Thranduil watched as the fear melted away into something akin to disdain.

“Where exactly do you think we could go in the world. There is no place on this green earth that we truly belong, there is nothing for us here but there is nothing for us out there either. You would give up your family for a man you may not always love?”

Those words were a searing bolt through his heart- to think Elrond thought so little of him and his feelings!

Had he offended him by not involving him in the plan?

No, he did not seem so petty as to think that way, however, he was seemingly cruel and cold for someone so gentle. If it were a means to protect himself Thranduil would understand but the pain would not lessen regardless.

“Aren’t you tired of hiding?” Thranduil leaned over the table in a bid for Elrond to hear him while keeping his voice low. If it were to escalate into a full-scale argument neither man could confirm their innocence.

“I am safe the way I am. If I never marry I can accept the rumours but running away with another man not only hurts me but my family and their reputation. You may have no regard for your family name but I love my mother and my sister, I would hate to see them lose everything because of a whim!” Elrond got up and stalked off leaving Thranduil still sat at the white wrought iron table watching his friend storm off back into the house.

Rose appeared at Thranduil’s side with a look of concern as she too watched her brother walk away. She took the empty seat next to Thranduil leaving her brother’s seat open but she knew he would not be returning.

“Is everything all right?” When her focus was moved to Thranduil he shifted uncomfortably, not wishing to be pinned with the look of true innocence, something that he had lost a long time ago, or had that been his ignorance of the real world?

It didn’t bear thinking about, not when he had to admit that Elrond was upset because of his words and actions. His ignorance and lack of innocence were that which pushed his friend away.

Friend.

Was that all he was to Thranduil?

Surely, a friend was all he was to Elrond and now he was scarcely that!

Rubbing his face he turned to look at Rose and mustered up as much courage as he could to tell her the truth but when he saw her it bled away like ink in the rain. The soft expression on her face was so full of knowing, so world-weary it was hard to imagine this was the same Rose that had sat by him moments ago.

"You're looking at him as though he broke your heart, Thranduil."

How hard his heart began to beat in his chest. The smallest inclination that she knew was enough to send his thoughts spinning wildly out of control and when he looked at her he knew there was fear in his expression.

How would this end?

"I didn't notice at first, you know?" Rose spoke quietly but kept her voice pleasant as she smoothed out the skirt of her dress. Her delicate fingers were seemingly able to clear the creases with ease. "I believed I was a lucky woman to know that my husband-to-be was close to my brother and that there would be no ill will between the both of you."

With his voice stuck in his throat unable or perhaps even unwilling to speak, Thranduil merely nodded for her to continue which she did upon seeing this.

“The more time that has passed the more I realise that you looked at him the way you should look at me.” It was blunt and it could have been hurtful should Thranduil have been able to process any feeling other than mind-numbing fear. “The world is a strange place, Thranduil and I know I do not understand it all, but I do know that we should not be together.” Simply put Rose was telling him she understood what was between her brother and him, and that the engagement could not move forward but the anticipation of something more such as a threat hung starkly in Thranduil's mind.

“You would ask that we call off our engagement?” Surprisingly his voice was even when he spoke but not as strong as he would have liked but what would have been the point of acting with bravado in front of someone who knew him so intimately?

“Would that not be wise if you wish to pursue my brother?”

A derisive laugh burst from Thranduil and it hurt his own ears at the sudden sound, unbecoming and impolite but all the same, it fit the moment perfectly.

“You are right when you say you do not understand the world because if you did you would know that I could never pursue Elrond in the way a man would a woman.”

“What shall you do now, go on alone?”

“That is all I can do.

#Commission #Elrond #Thranduil #Elronduil #The Hobbit #LOTR #AU

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tabloidtoc · 3 years

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National Enquirer, November 16

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Jeffrey Epstein’s madam Ghislaine Maxwell’s nights with Prince Andrew and teen Virginia Roberts Giuffre

Page 2: Brad Pitt kicked married galpal Nicole Poturalski to the curb after getting flak from his ex Angelina Jolie -- Brad’s relationship with Nicole hit the skids after Brad decided he needed to shore up his image during his ongoing custody battle with Angie and his focus right now is to get his dad image back on track and give Angie no more ammo to fling back at him

Page 3: Tiger Woods’ romance with Erica Herman has gone off course over legal troubles and wedding pressure and bickering over where to live and Tiger is so fed up he’s considering ditching his nagging girlfriend in Florida and moving back to his native California -- Erica’s been pressuring him to put a ring on it ever since she moved into his Jupiter Island mansion and that’s something he just won’t do and she’s already taken over his household buying new furniture and remodeling the master bath and building a new closet and hiring a gourmet chef -- California is looking better and better to Tiger who only moved to Florida to play on its tough Bermuda grass which helped improve his swing but now Tiger’s ex Elin lives in Florida with their two kids

Page 4: Miranda Lambert is scoffing at ex Blake Shelton’s newly announced engagement to Gwen Stefani and she’s convinced Blake’s third walk down the aisle has failure written all over it because she thinks Blake’s bad to the bone and this marriage will wind up being a total disaster and after the hell Blake put her through Miranda can’t imagine his life with Gwen would be any different, lifelong bachelor Simon Cowell has had a change of heart since his horrific August accident and he’s finally ready to tie the knot with baby mama Lauren Silverman -- after spinal surgery to repair his broken back the entertainment mogul feels lucky to be alive and walking and the one constant in his difficult rehab after surgery has been Lauren and he wants to pay her back with a ring

Page 5: Train-wreck Wendy Williams’ wacky behavior has TV producers scrambling behind the scenes to find her replacement after her unhinged performance on a recent episode of her talk show where she slurred her words and rambled incoherently -- there had been a hope a chatfest helmed by Nick Cannon could be a safety net should the daytime diva who spent a stint in a sober living house last year not be able to continue hosting but plans for that were pushed back after the comic made anti-Semitic rants in a podcast -- they also tried Jerry O’Connell when Wendy was out for three weeks last year but he tanked with viewers -- Wendy’s a mess and it remains to be seen how long producers will be able to put up with her problems before they decide to pull the plug

Page 6: Grey’s Anatomy star Ellen Pompeo hinted that she may be making her final rounds -- Ellen who has starred on the show since 2005 and makes $20 million a year admitted she’s considering slipping out of her scrubs after the current season 17 but her departure could spell the end of the beloved series and show creator Shonda Rhimes has said it’s unlikely the show could continue without her but Ellen has also expressed her desire to spend more time with her husband and their three children

Page 7: Mariah Carey’s brother Morgan blasted her memoir as filled with lies and distortions and he’s considering legal action -- the book called Morgan and sister Alison her ex-brother and ex-sister and Mariah wrote Morgan had a long history of violence and when she was six he slammed their mother into a wall -- Mariah also wrote her siblings and mother were heartless in terms of dealing with her as a human being and once she got famous they started treating her like an ATM with a wig on but Morgan is fighting back and looking to hire a lawyer

Page 8: Reese Witherspoon’s marriage to Jim Toth is in the muck after the stunning collapse of his new business venture and tensions are mounting in the Hollywood power couple’s already troubled union now that the streaming service Quibi crumbled after less than six months leaving content acquisition president Jim out of work while Reese’s star continues to rise and there’s a real balance of power that’s been building up and that’s put a serious strain on the relationship -- living in quarantine added to the stress between them as Reese has been holed up with her two kids with ex Ryan Phillippe Ava and Deacon and her son Tennessee with Jim at the family’s ranch in Malibu

Page 9: Dementia patient Kenny Rogers cut his three adult children out of his $250 million will and now sources fear the late country legend could have been tricked into signing the document -- Kenny left everything to his 16-year-old twins sons with fifth wife Wanda and the will also stated it was his intent to specifically exclude his daughter Carole with his first wife and son Kenny Jr. with third wife and son Christopher with fourth wife and their issue as beneficiaries of his estate -- Kenny Sr. would never disown his own children according to the source especially since the singer’s son Kenny Jr. is incorrectly referred to Kenny Rogers III throughout the will -- the wording is not like Kenny Sr. and something is not right and his older kids are thinking about contesting the will

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Kate McKinnon shot a Saturday Night live skit in NYC, Sophia Bush hit the road in L.A. with her co-pilot pup Maggie, pregnant Jinger Duggar Vuolo in Venice with daughter Felicity, Heidi Klum walking the streets in her native Germany, Snoop Dogg saluted young rappers as he accepted BET’s I Am Hip Hop award

Page 11: Unwitting Jennifer Aniston and Gerard Butler once dabbled in the secret sex cult NXIVM -- the organization masqueraded as a self-help group but in 2017 it was exposed as a pyramid scheme for founder Keith Raniere who forced high-ranking female recruits to become his sex slaves -- in 2010 Jen and Gerry who were dating at the time wound up at one of the introductory seminars but they were turned off by the level of commitment expected and never returned -- they thought it was just a networking opportunity and had no idea what they were getting themselves into, cash-crunched Gwyneth Paltrow is facing hard times like everyone else and is looking to change her free-spending ways -- the belt-tightening caused by the coronavirus pandemic has even hit her lifestyle empire Goop causing her to shut down the London branch and make hard choices for the future -- Gwyneth may be worth $100 million but she and husband Brad Falchuk spend money like it’s going out of style on private jets they use on a whim and they own a fleet of fancy cars and pay steep salaries for staff who are at their beck and call 24/7 and it’s all draining their bank accounts -- they’re looking at making cuts across the board from personal trainers and chefs and drivers to the masseurs and beauticians who come to their house several times a week -- plus the couple believe it’s a bad look for them to be living so high on the hog when the rest of the world is suffering during the pandemic

Page 12: Straight Shuter -- Angelina Jolie spent years developing her own version of the Hollywood classic Cleopatra and now she’s livid that Gal Gadot has stolen the Egyptian queen -- Angie’s dream was to play Cleopatra the role that made Elizabeth Taylor an icon and it was to be the part that won Angie an Academy Award for Best Actress and now that’s over thanks to Gal who will be playing the Queen of the Nile instead, after ABC scrapped plans to honor Regis Philbin with a prime-time tribute Jimmy Kimmel insisted on honoring Regis on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?, MSNBC talking head Rachel Maddow is fleeing New York for her Massachusetts farm after hanging a $2.3 million price tag on her NYC pad but Rachel didn’t want potential buyers looking through all the personal stuff at her apartment so all the personal pictures and books and clothing and everything else was shipped out and replaced with staged furniture, Ariel Winter and her dog (picture)

Page 13: Ailing Joni Mitchell opened up about how she’s still struggling to get back to her old self five years after a debilitating brain bleed -- after Joni was found unresponsive in her Bel-Air home in 2015 she said she was forced to relearn everyday tasks because the aneurysm took away her speech and her ability to walk and although she’s showing slow improvement she hasn’t been writing or playing the guitar or the piano, Randy Travis is defying all the odds as he plans the greatest comeback in country music history as he is making amazing progress after suffering a massive 2013 stroke that most believed would end his career forever and he was given just 1% chance of survival and even after he pulled through doctors believed he would be bedridden and unable to speak -- instead his grueling rehab efforts have miraculously put him on the road to realizing his dream of returning to the spotlight -- some of his motivation is financial; last year he sold his Nashville home and released his memoir which was fueled by his need to pay medical expenses after years of not being able to perform

Page 14: Hollywood Hookups -- Channing Tatum and Jessie J have split again, Cole Sprouse and Reina Silva dating, Kate Beckinsale and Goody Grace split

Page 15: Ariana Grande is raising eyebrows with her raunchy new record Positions -- the former squeaky-clean Nickelodeon star who has been dating real estate agent Dalton Gomez spouted off X-rated odes to an unnamed lover on the LP, six months after sidelining her marriage to former quarterback Jay Cutler Kristin Cavallari admitted there are good days and bad days but insisted it’s been nice to be able to focus on herself and figure out who she is now and what she ultimately wants out of life, hotel heiress Kathy Hilton is joining The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills as a friend of the main cast which includes her half-sister Kyle Richards

Page 16: Crime

Page 17: On Drew Barrymore’s talk show a psychic guest channeled the spirit of one of the host’s former in-laws but the man in question is very much alive -- medium Anna Raimondi told Drew she sensed the aura of a judge causing Drew to burst into tears and named David a relative of her ex-husband Will Kopelman claiming he’d passed but Judge David Kopelman is alive and still going strong -- Will slammed Anna was a submental hack and said he was surprised that Drew chose to give oxygen to someone like that

Page 18: American Life

Page 20: Cover Story -- Prince Andrew is desperate to quash explosive testimony by his pedophile pal Jeffrey Epstein’s accused madam Ghislaine Maxwell but the socialite’s second secret deposition is torpedoing his return from royal exile -- after Ghislaine danced around details of her relationship with the disgraced Duke of York in testimony released a few weeks ago Andrew is sweating bullets about her second grilling under oath which contains details of their intimate friendship and nights with Epstein’s teen sex slave Virginia Roberts Giuffre

Page 22: Don McLean viciously slammed ex-wife Patrisha Shnier as the worst person her ever knew but in their ongoing war of words she maintains he was abusive to her -- Don is still bitter over a 2016 domestic incident at their home in Maine that landed him behind bars and led to divorce after 30 years of marriage

Page 26: Matthew McConaughey confessed he nearly turned his back on Tinseltown to be a wildlife guide like late Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin -- he made a splash in a string of blockbuster rom-coms in the ‘90s and ‘00s but he was eager to move on to meatier movies and even passed on a $14.5 million paycheck in 2010 to seek more substantial roles and the struggle left him considering other careers such as a wildlife guide, Jamie Foxx has been crushed by the death of his beloved sister DeOndra Dixon who was born with Down syndrome

Page 28: Good Catch -- Bachelor stars who are still up for grabs -- Jon Hamm, Owen Wilson, Drew Carey

Page 29: Benicio Del Toro, Ryan Seacrest, Matthew Perry, some stars seem to say I do at the drop of the hat -- Larry King, Jerry Lee Lewis, Billy Bob Thornton

Page 32: Olivia Munn was caught on camera flashing what looked like engagement bling on her left ring finger as she exited a gym following a morning workout in Los Angeles but she reportedly broke up with boyfriend Tucker Roberts last year leaving fans wondering who bought the stunning sparkler

Page 36: Health Watch

Page 42: Red Carpet -- Michelle Pfeiffer

Page 45: Spot the Differences -- Allison Janney on Mom

Page 47: Odd List

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papermoonloveslucy · 3 years

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THE JIMMY DURANTE SHOW

“Women in Industry” ~ April 28, 1948

“The Jimmy Durante Show” aired on NBC from October 1, 1947 to June 30, 1950. It was a continuation of the NBC / CBS radio series “The Durante-Moore Show” after Garry Moore left when he was offered his own show on CBS Television. The series originally starred with recurring guest stars Peggy Lee and Florence Halop. In its last season, actor and personality Alan Young was brought in as Durante's straight man. At the end of the 1947-48 season, the show was tied for the number 7 show on the air along with “Philco Radio Time” on ABC and “Dr. Christian” on CBS. The show managed to stay in the top ten throughout its entire run. The series ended in June 1950 after Durante made a move to television with a starring role on NBC's “Four Star Revue.”

The program was televised at Club Durant. Each episode usually ended with Durante's catchphrase, "Good night, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are!", an apparent reference to Durante's deceased first wife. This program was sponsored by Rexall Drugs. It was produced and directed by Phil Cohan.

Synopsis ~ Jimmy and guest Lucille Ball tour the country to see how women fit into American industry.

CAST

Jimmy Durante (Host) was a multi-talented performer who was distinguished by his bulbous nose. In “Lucy Meets Harpo Marx” (ILL S4;E28) Lucy Ricardo dons a novelty store mask and trench coat to impersonate Durante for a nearsighted Carolyn Appleby. His classic profile was featured on “I Love Lucy” when Lucy goes to the Hollywood Brown Derby, where his caricature takes up two frames above her booth. Lucille Ball has an uncredited role in his 1935 film Carnival. In “Lucy Goes to a Hollywood Premiere” (TLS S4;E20) on February 7, 1966, Durante makes a cameo appearance accompanied by his wife, Margie Little.

Lucille Ball (Guest Star) had previously been on Durante’s radio show on October 29, 1947. She had played an uncredited role in his film Carnival in 1935. Ball was just a few months from staring her radio series “My Favorite Husband,” which launched in July 1948. Her film Her Husband’s Affairs was in theatres. At the time of this broadcast she was filming Sorrowful Jones with Bob Hope.

Peggy Lee (Regular Cast) was a singer and actress who, like Lucille Ball, was also born in Jamestown - but in North Dakota, not New York. Lee was a Grammy-winning singer and composer.

Roy Bargy and his Orchestra (Music)

The Crew Chiefs (Singers)

Howard Petrie (Announcer) would appear with Lucille Ball in Fancy Pants (1950).

Victor Moore, usually part of the cast, is not in this episode.

EPISODE

Announcer Howard Petrie opens with a few bars of his signature songs “Inka Dinka Doo” and “You Gotta Start Off Each Day with a Song.” Petrie and Durante talk about the wedding of the year: Lana Turner to Bob Topping. Durante says that he picked out her torso. Petrie corrects him saying her ‘trousseau’ cost her $30,000. Durante says he picked out her wedding gown, especially the train.

DURANTE: “It wasn’t an ordinary train. Lana was wearing the Super Chief!”

Lana Turner married Henry 'Bob’ Topping Jr. on April 26, 1948, just two days before this broadcast. He was her third husband, but she would marry four more times in her life!

Durante jokes about President Truman throwing out the first ball at the Washington Senators first game. Durante sings the novelty song “I’ll Never Forget the Day I Read a Book.”

After a Rexall commercial, Durante introduces Lucille Ball. Lucy talks about making Sorrowful Jones with Bob Hope. Durante is jealous of Hope’s nose!

LUCY: “When it comes to noses, he’s a retailer. You’re a wholesaler.”

Lucy wants to get down to the reason for her visit: woman in industry. They travel into the future to see how things might be different if women were captains of industry.

In the future, Lucy comes home from the office and Jimmy is doing housework. The banter is classic domestic role reversal. Lucy compliments him on his housekeeping.

Back in the present, Lucy and Durante introduce Peggy Lee. Lucy says her gown is an original by Schiaparelli. Peggy says hers is by Hattie Carnegie.

Before coming to Hollywood, Lucille Ball was a model for Hattie Carnegie in New York.

LUCY: “The shoes are by Capezio, the handbag is an Evans creation, and the hat is by John Frederick.” DURANTE: “Notice they didn’t say anything about Adrian, who’s spending every moment whipping up my new spring halter.”

Peggy Lee sings “It’s the Sentimental Thing To Do”.

After another Rexall commercial, Peggy and Lucy are still interested in pursuing women in industry. Jimmy, Peggy, and Lucy sing “Any State in the 48″ as they take a magic carpet around the country.

First stop: Milwaukee, Wisconsin to visit the Shultz Pickle Works. Mr. Schultz mistakes Durante’s nose for a cucumber. They are curious to know if the pickle industry would be good for women. Lucy tries a pickle to see if it will make her pucker. While she is puckered, the phones rings and it is Governor Folsom of Alabama asking Durante to keep Lucy ‘puckered up’ till he gets there!

On March 3, 1948, Governor Jim Folsom's name was in headlines across the nation when the 30-year-old Christine Johnston, a widow who had met Folsom in late 1944 while she was working as a cashier at the Tutwiler Hotel in Birmingham, filed a paternity suit against the governor by alleging that he was the father of her 22-month-old son. Nine days after the suit was filed Folsom appeared on the sidewalk in front of the Barbizon Modeling School in New York City, where he kissed a hundred pretty models who had voted him "The Nation's Number One Leap Year Bachelor." Johnston dropped the suit for a cash settlement. Years later, he admitted that he was indeed the father of Johnston's child. On May 5, 1948, Folsom married 20-year-old Jamelle Moore, a secretary at the state Highway Department, whom he had met during his 1946 campaign and had been dating and seeing "almost daily" since then.

Next stop: Paris, Illinois. They are visiting the second largest perfume factory in the country, owned by Hot Breath Houlihan.

DURANTE: “Now I know who set B.O. Plenty’s house on fire!”

B.O. Plenty was a character from Dick Tracy comic strip by Chester Gould. In March 1948, his house mysteriously burned down and everyone feared the character was dead. Readers actually wrote to the newspaper begging Gould not to kill off B.O. Plenty and Gravel Gertie!

Houlihan sells perfumes named Abandon, Yield, Retreat, and Surrender.

DURANTE: “Haven’t you got something with a bit more will power?”

Houlihan says she became a success by developing a perfume called Go Away Henry Wallace.

HOULIHAN: “When a girl is sitting on the sofa with her boyfriend, she don’t want a third party!”

Henry Wallace was the 33rd vice president of the United States. He was also the presidential nominee of the left-wing Progressive Party in the 1948 election.

Last stop: Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. They visit a steel factory and talk to the head man (who is obviously voiced by a female). She says that women have no place in the steel industry. But Lucille convinces her otherwise, and they conclude their magic carpet tour of the USA.

#Jimmy Durante #Lucille Ball #The Jimmy Durante Show #1948 #Radio #Henry Wallace #Dick Tracy #Jim Folsom #Hattie Carnegie #Bob Hope #Sorrowful Jones #Rexall #Lana Turner #Henry Topping #Peggy Lee #Roy Bargy

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llucy-san · 4 years

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OTP Questions Meme

I was tagged by always supportive and wonderful friend of mine @nightwingshero 🥰💕 thank you Jo for always thinking about me.

I took me a while to do it cause I haven’t much thought about this details but here it is.

John Seed & Hayley Moore

DISAGREEMENTS

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Neither of them. John sometimes gets moody, but he'd never raise his voice at Hayle.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Neither.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? The only time Hayley left was while they were still engaged. She foolishly believed things that weren’t true, but later the truth came to light.

Who trashes the house? Neither of them.

Do either of them get physical? No, John would never hurt Hayley and Hayley's the same.

How often do they argue/disagree? Arguing? No. Disagree? Sometimes. They don’t always agree with each other or have the same opinion, but it’s always about normal things.

Who is the first to apologize? Depends on who started. Hayley admits she was wrong, but there's no way that same could be said about John. He doesn't say it out loud, but rather with a bouquet of her favourite roses and with puppy eyes of his.

SEX

Who is on top? Usually, John but Hayley sometimes takes her chance, and John has to admit that he enjoys the view.

Who is on the bottom? Look above.

Who has the strangest desires? They do have some, they likes to explore each other but there is nothing strange.

Any kinks? Look above.

Who’s dominant in bed? John, absolutely .

Is head ever in the equation? Sometimes.

If so, who is better at performing it? They share but I'd say John's more experienced.

Ever had sex in public? Of course. Listen to me, John couldn't help himself, sometimes in his office, in his car or in the old Duncan mansion. However, after arriving in County, they eased a bit, but their little place is down in the docks.

Who moans the most? Hayley, and John is proud of himself. But even Hayley can't be ashamed of herself, she can play his games too.

Who leaves the most marks? John, he likes to leave love marks, but Hayley leaves small marks of her own too.

Who is the more experienced of the two? John.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Usually according to the mood, but it always ends with making love.

Rough or soft? Depends on the mood.

How long do they usually last? John usually lasts longer than Hayley. But it depends on how tired they are.

Is protection used? At the beginning of their relationship, Hayley was on birth control but later she stopped.

Does it ever get boring? Nope, not at all.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? On the roof of their ranch.

FAMILY

Do they plan on having children/or have children? They didn't think much of having kids. Hayley wanted to build a career first as a lawyer and later find a life partner, and John didn't think much about it, given his past and his acquaintances. However, when they were together as a couple, this idea was there. And yes, they do have kids.

If so, how many children do they want/have? They have twins, son and daughter.

AFFECTION

Who likes to cuddle? They both do. Just hanging out, wrapped in a blanket, enjoying each other company.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? John, absolutely John. This boy won't stop at anything to get what he wants, and that is to see his wife blush only from what he whispers in her ear during Joseph's service.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? John wins. One time, while they were still living in Atlanta during a conference, he just couldn't help himself, his hand “just happened” to land on her thigh and went higher and higher.

Who gives the most kisses? John.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity? Talking to each other in bed or just spending time together or later with their kids.

Where is their favourite place to cuddle? Most of the time on the couch, John's head in her lap, her fingers combing through his hair and reading her favourite book. The second option is a bed, where they talk until they fall asleep.

How often do they get time to themselves? Depends on how they manage to combine time. John is very busy with baptisms and confessions and Hayley helps those souls who find it difficult to face their fears to accept the place in project.

SLEEPING

Who snores? Neither of them, Hayley just wrinkles her nose in her sleep and John finds it cute.

If both do, who snores the loudest? -

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? They share.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? They cozy up.

What do they wear to bed? Hayley most often wears John's old hoodie he had from the time when he was studying law, which she stole from a night spent in the old Duncan residence. John usually wears sweatpants.

Are either of them insomniacs? Just John, beacuse of his nightmares.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? No.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? They both tend to wrap themselves around each other and keep the partner close.

Who wakes up with bed hair? They both do.

Who wakes up first? John most often.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Of course it's John. Hayley can't cook, but that doesn't mean that when she cooks, she's gonna burn the kitchen. She just loves his culinary skills.

What is their favourite sleeping position? Curled up with each other, Hayley's head tucked under his chin and his arms wrapped around her waist or her back pressed against his chest.

Do they set an alarm each night? Nope.

Can a television be found in their bedroom? No.

Who has nightmares? Only John who has nightmares about his past with Duncans.

Who has ridiculous dreams? Hayley, sometimes.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Neither.

Who makes the bed? Hayley.

What time is bed time? They don't have, they like to talk about their day and later they fall asleep.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? John, he can be a brat sometimes.

WORK

Who is the busiest? John, he has more to do in project.

Who rakes in the highest income? Upon arrival in the County, they no longer receive a salary, EG supports them instead.

Are any of them unemployed? No.

Who takes the most sick days? Hayley always finds out that something is wrong with her husband, even though he tries to hide it, but eventually she usually convinces him to take a few days off.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Neither of them.

Who sucks up to their boss? Neither. They're practically bosses themselves.

What are their jobs? Before Joseph found John, Hayley worked for him in his law firm and later became his partner. Not just in life, but at work. After coming to Hope, John became the Baptist (Inquisitor) of Eden’s Gate and Hayley his right hand-woman.

Who stresses the most? Hayley, no doubt.

Are they financially stable? Yes.

HOME

Who does the washing? John cooks and Hayley washes.

Who takes out the trash? They share it.

Who does the ironing? Hayley.

Who does the cooking? Definitely John, he's a great cook.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Hayley!! She likes to sit on the kitchen counter and watch him cook.

Who is messier? Neither of them.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Neither.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Neither of them.

Who forgets to flush the toilet? Neither.

Who is the prankster around the house? John, still acting like a little kid.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Neither.

Who mows the lawn? They have people for that, but Hayley doesn't mind to do that. She likes to do jobs around the house, especially taking care of the flowers.

Who answers the telephone? Both.

Who does the vacuuming? Hayley.

Who does the groceries? John.

Who takes the longest to shower? Obviously John.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom? John, it takes him a long time to get ready for the day, and Hayley makes fun of it sometimes. “Sweetie, sometimes I think you're more of a woman than I am.”

MISCELLANEOUS

Is money a problem? No.

How many cars do they own? Hayley has her camaro and John his SUV.

Do they own their home or do they rent? They own ranch.

Do they live in the city or in the country? Country.

Do they enjoy their surroundings? They both loved city life and everything that life offered them. But when they moved to Hope, they wouldn't have traded their ranch for anything. John loves the open sky and Hayley loves the nature that surrounds their home.

What’s their song? Wherever you will go by Charlene Soraia

What do they do when they’re away from each other? First of all it’s the job in project or doing something around the house (more likely Hayley) John likes to holed up in his hangar or spend time with twins.

Where did they first meet? At Nadia's bar (her best friend from college) but officially face-to-face at the audition for a new job at his firm.

Who spends the most money when out shopping? John likes to surround not only his wife but also his children with many gifts.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Neither.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? They both do.

Any mental issues? John from his childhood.

Who’s terrified of bugs? Hayley, she hates any kinds of bugs.

Who kills the spiders around the house? John does.

Their favourite place? There are many, the riverbank at the docs, the backyard. . .

Who pays the bills? John.

Do they have any fears for their future? No, if the opportunity arises, the fisrt one will support the other.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? John, definitely him.

Who’s the tallest? John. Hayley is just 5′6″, reaching his nose.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? *cough* John.

Who wanders around in their underwear? John but only when he is looking for fresh clothes.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Hayley doesn't like to sing in front of anyone. She likes to sing to herself and later to her children.

What do they tease each other about? Hayley makes fun of how long it takes John to get ready in the morning and John, on the other hand, makes fun of her drinking, because Hayley can't take much. She is bad drinker.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Neither of them.

Who crushed first? I wouldn't put it that way, but the more time they spent together, the more they'd bond.

Any alcohol or substance related problems? John, in his past but Hayley help him taught how to not go the same way as he used to.

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Neither, John is used to alcohol and know how much he can handle and he take care of Hayley to not drink much.

Who swears the most? Both but John more.

I don’t know who already did this but. . . @oktraoktra @tomexraider @yedrua97 @strangestarheart @seed-addicted @wibbiboy @thekillingjokeisonyou

#ask meme #oc things #OC Hayley Moore #john seed #fc5

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humilityindebauchery-blog · 4 years

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The Price

by Neil Gaiman

Tramps and vagabonds have marks they make on gateposts and trees and doors, letting others of their kind know a little about the people who live at the houses and farms they pass on their travels. I think cats must leave similar signs; how else to explain the cats who turn up at our door through the year, hungry and flea-ridden and abandoned?

We take them in. We get rid of the fleas and the ticks, feed them and take them to the vet. We pay for them to get their shots, and, indignity upon indignity, we have them neutered or spayed.

And they stay with us, for a few months, or for a year, or for ever.

Most of them arrive in summer. We live in the country, just the right distance out of town for the city-dwellers to abandon their cats near us.

We never seem to have more than eight cats, rarely have less than three. The cat population of my house is currently as follows: Hermione and Pod, tabby and black respectively, the mad sisters who live in my attic office, and do not mingle; Princess, the blue-eyed long-haired white cat, who lived wild in the woods for years before she gave up her wild ways for soft sofas and beds; and, last but largest, Furball, Princess's cushion-like calico long-haired daughter, orange and black and white, whom I discovered as a tiny kitten in our garage one day, strangled and almost dead, her head poked through an old badminton net, and who surprised us all by not dying but instead growing up to be the best-natured cat I have ever encountered.

And then there is the black cat. Who has no other name than the Black Cat, and who turned up almost a month ago. We did not realise he was going to be living here at first: he looked too well-fed to be a stray, too old and jaunty to have been abandoned. He looked like a small panther, and he moved like a patch of night.

One day, in the summer, he was lurking about our ramshackle porch: eight or nine years old, at a guess, male, greenish-yellow of eye, very friendly, quite unperturbable. I assumed he belonged to a neighbouring farmer or household.

I went away for a few weeks, to finish writing a book, and when I came home he was still on our porch, living in an old cat- bed one of the children had found for him. He was, however, almost unrecognisable. Patches of fur had gone, and there were deep scratches on his grey skin. The tip of one ear was chewed away. There was a gash beneath one eye, a slice gone from one lip. He looked tired and thin.

We took the Black Cat to the vet, where we got him some antibiotics, which we fed him each night, along with soft cat food.

We wondered who he was fighting. Princess, our white, beautiful, near-feral queen? Raccoons? A rat-tailed, fanged possum?

Each night the scratches would be worse -- one night his side would be chewed-up; the next, it would be his underbelly, raked with claw marks and bloody to the touch.

When it got to that point, I took him down to the basement to recover, beside the furnace and the piles of boxes. He was surprisingly heavy, the Black Cat, and I picked him up and carried him down there, with a cat-basket, and a litter bin, and some food and water. I closed the door behind me. I had to wash the blood from my hands, when I left the basement.

He stayed down there for four days. At first he seemed too weak to feed himself: a cut beneath one eye had rendered him almost one-eyed, and he limped and lolled weakly, thick yellow pus oozing from the cut in his lip.

I went down there every morning and every night, and I fed him, and gave him antibiotics, which I mixed with his canned food, and I dabbed at the worst of the cuts, and spoke to him. He had diarrhoea, and, although I changed his litter daily, the basement stank evilly.

The four days that the Black Cat lived in the basement were a bad four days in my house: the baby slipped in the bath, and banged her head, and might have drowned; I learned that a project I had set my heart on -- adapting Hope Mirrlees' novel Lud in the Mist for the BBC -- was no longer going to happen, and I realised that I did not have the energy to begin again from scratch, pitching it to other networks, or to other media; my daughter left for Summer Camp, and immediately began to send home a plethora of heart-tearing letters and cards, five or six each day, imploring us to take her away; my son had some kind of fight with his best friend, to the point that they were no longer on speaking terms; and returning home one night, my wife hit a deer, who ran out in front of the car. The deer was killed, the car was left undriveable, and my wife sustained a small cut over one eye.

By the fourth day, the cat was prowling the basement, walking haltingly but impatiently between the stacks of books and comics, the boxes of mail and cassettes, of pictures and of gifts and of stuff. He mewed at me to let him out and, reluctantly, I did so.

He went back onto the porch, and slept there for the rest of the day.

The next morning there were deep, new gashes in his flanks, and clumps of black cat-hair -- his -- covered the wooden boards of the porch.

Letters arrived that day from my daughter, telling us that Camp was going better, and she thought she could survive a few days; my son and his friend sorted out their problem, although what the argument was about -- trading cards, computer games, Star Wars or A Girl -- I would never learn. The BBC Executive who had vetoed Lud in the Mist was discovered to have been taking bribes (well, 'questionable loans') from an independent production company, and was sent home on permanent leave: his successor, I was delighted to learn, when she faxed me, was the woman who had initially proposed the project to me before leaving the BBC.

I thought about returning the Black Cat to the basement, but decided against it. Instead, I resolved to try and discover what kind of animal was coming to our house each night, and from there to formulate a plan of action -- to trap it, perhaps.

For birthdays and at Christmas my family gives me gadgets and gizmos, pricy toys which excite my fancy but, ultimately, rarely leave their boxes. There is a food dehydrator and an electric carving knife, a bread-making machine, and, last year's present, a pair of see-in-the-dark binoculars. On Christmas Day I had put the batteries into the binoculars, and had walked about the basement in the dark, too impatient even to wait until nightfall, stalking a flock of imaginary Starlings. (You were warned not to turn it on in the light: that would have damaged the binoculars, and quite possibly your eyes as well.) Afterwards I had put the device back into its box, and it sat there still, in my office, beside the box of computer cables and forgotten bits and pieces.

Perhaps, I thought, if the creature, dog or cat or raccoon or what-have-you, were to see me sitting on the porch, it would not come, so I took a chair into the box-and-coat-room, little larger than a closet, which overlooks the porch, and, when everyone in the house was asleep, I went out onto the porch, and bade the Black Cat goodnight.

That cat, my wife had said, when he first arrived, is a person. And there was something very person-like in his huge, leonine face: his broad black nose, his greenish-yellow eyes, his fanged but amiable mouth (still leaking amber pus from the right lower lip).

I stroked his head, and scratched him beneath the chin, and wished him well. Then I went inside, and turned off the light on the porch.

I sat on my chair, in the darkness inside the house, with the see-in-the-dark binoculars on my lap. I had switched the binoculars on, and a trickle of greenish light came from the eyepieces.

Time passed, in the darkness.

I experimented with looking at the darkness with the binoculars, learning to focus, to see the world in shades of green. I found myself horrified by the number of swarming insects I could see in the night air: it was as if the night world were some kind of nightmarish soup, swimming with life. Then I lowered the binoculars from my eyes, and stared out at the rich blacks and blues of the night, empty and peaceful and calm.

Time passed. I struggled to keep awake, found myself profoundly missing cigarettes and coffee, my two lost addictions. Either of them would have kept my eyes open. But before I had tumbled too far into the world of sleep and dreams a yowl from the garden jerked me fully awake. I fumbled the binoculars to my eyes, and was disappointed to see that it was merely Princess, the white cat, streaking across the front garden like a patch of greenish-white light. She vanished into the woodland to the left of the house, and was gone.

I was about to settle myself back down, when it occurred to me to wonder what exactly had startled Princess so, and I began scanning the middle distance with the binoculars, looking for a huge raccoon, a dog, or a vicious possum. And there was indeed something coming down the driveway, towards the house. I could see it through the binoculars, clear as day.

It was the Devil.

I had never seen the Devil before, and, although I had written about him in the past, if pressed would have confessed that I had no belief in him, other than as an imaginary figure, tragic and Miltonion. The figure coming up the driveway was not Milton's Lucifer. It was the Devil.

My heart began to pound in my chest, to pound so hard that it hurt. I hoped it could not see me, that, in a dark house, behind window-glass, I was hidden.

The figure flickered and changed as it walked up the drive. One moment it was dark, bull-like, minotaurish, the next it was slim and female, and the next it was a cat itself, a scarred, huge grey-green wildcat, its face contorted with hate.

There are steps that lead up to my porch, four white wooden steps in need of a coat of paint (I knew they were white, although they were, like everything else, green through my binoculars). At the bottom of the steps, the Devil stopped, and called out something that I could not understand, three, perhaps four words in a whining, howling language that must have been old and forgotten when Babylon was young; and, although I did not understand the words, I felt the hairs raise on the back of my head as it called.

And then I heard, muffled through the glass, but still audible, a low growl, a challenge, and, slowly, unsteadily, a black figure walked down the steps of the house, away from me, toward the Devil. These days the Black Cat no longer moved like a panther, instead he stumbled and rocked, like a sailor only recently returned to land.

The Devil was a woman, now. She said something soothing and gentle to the cat, in a tongue that sounded like French, and reached out a hand to him. He sank his teeth into her arm, and her lip curled, and she spat at him.

The woman glanced up at me, then, and if I had doubted that she was the Devil before, I was certain of it now: the woman's eyes flashed red fire at me; but you can see no red through the night-vision binoculars, only shades of a green. And the Devil saw me, through the window. It saw me. I am in no doubt about that at all.

The Devil twisted and writhed, and now it was some kind of jackal, a flat-faced, huge-headed, bull-necked creature, halfway between a hyena and a dingo. There were maggots squirming in its mangy fur, and it began to walk up the steps.

The Black Cat leapt upon it, and in seconds they became a rolling, writhing thing, moving faster than my eyes could follow.

All this in silence.

And then a low roar -- down the country road at the bottom of our drive, in the distance, lumbered a late-night truck, its blazing headlights burning bright as green suns through the binoculars. I lowered them from my eyes, and saw only darkness, and the gentle yellow of headlights, and then the red of rear lights as it vanished off again into the nowhere at all.

When I raised the binoculars once more there was nothing to be seen. Only the Black Cat, on the steps, staring up into the air. I trained the binoculars up, and saw something flying away - - a vulture, perhaps, or an eagle -- and then it flew beyond the trees and was gone.

I went out onto the porch, and picked up the Black Cat, and stroked him, and said kind, soothing things to him. He mewled piteously when I first approached him, but, after a while, he went to sleep on my lap, and I put him into his basket, and went upstairs to my bed, to sleep myself. There was dried blood on my tee shirt and jeans, the following morning.

That was a week ago.

The thing that comes to my house does not come every night. But it comes most nights: we know it by the wounds on the cat, and the pain I can see in those leonine eyes. He has lost the use of his front left paw, and his right eye has closed for good.

I wonder what we did to deserve the Black Cat. I wonder who sent him. And, selfish and scared, I wonder how much more he has to give.

=ENDS=

2400 words

Neil Gaiman

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charnamefic · 5 years

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Once again, there’s a transcript below the cut.

Halfway down the hill the bundle began to cry: the air-raid siren wail of the newly born. High. Wordless. And old.

--------------------

There was something deeply unfair about being an Earthbound demon, Crawleigh reflected, as he started the 2CV and clunked it down the waterlogged country road. From what he could see, most people, ordinary human people, seemed to do far better than he did when it came to adding to the sum total of human misery.

He gripped the wheel miserably. Where He’d gone wrong, of course well, of course, He went wrong all the time, it was His job. Where He’d gone particularly wrong was in making Crawleigh human. It subjected you to all kinds of little pressures, no wonder most of them were several coupons short of a toaster, you ended up feeling sorry for them, the poor bastards.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to ruin the lives and souls of strangers; it was just that after he’d given them nice cups of tea and homemade cakes, and listened to their problems and helped them balance their cheque books, and got their kittens down from trees, there simply wasn’t the time.

The road to heaven, he would reflect gloomily, is paved with bad intentions, and resolve to break his ways. Starting, well, tomorrow. Probably.

He stuck out his chin. Enough of that. No more messing

about. From now on he was going to be bad. Worse than Michael Jackson. The thought turned his mind to something better in the way of in-car entertainment than the sloshing of the windscreen wipers. The radio would do nothing except crackle in Danish, so he fumbled for a cassette and pushed it into the slot.

It was The Best of Queen. It always was. Crawleigh suspected that any tape left in a car for more than a fortnight metamorphosed into a Best of Queen album.

He nearly stopped for a hitchhiker; but at the last moment he remembered the child asleep on the back seat, and sped past the woman hitching by the side of the road, drenching her. Pride and embarrassment struggled within him. Pride won. One of the windscreen wipers was swept away by the rain.

The tape was bleating about someone who kept Moet and Chandon in a pretty cabinet. Crawleigh, in that dreamlike state that afflicts all car drivers in the pouring rain at night, found himself wondering who Moet and Chandon were.

And then he wasn’t. Suddenly Freddy Mercury’s voice was talking to Crawleigh.

WE ARE RELYING ON YOU, it said. DO NOT FAIL US, CRAWLEIGH.

“No, Lord.”

NO...WHAT DID WE DO TO YOU AFTER THE ATLANTIS DEBACLE? REMIND US.

“Half an aeon, O Master of the Nine Hells, partially dismembered, suspended in the flaming cesspits of Abbadon. There were internal stoats in there somewhere as well. And after that l was Earthbound until further notice.”

YESSSSS. WE TELL YOU THIS, CRAWLEIGH: LISTEN WELL: IF ANYTHING, ANYTHING AT ALL GOES WRONG WITH THIS VENTURE YOU WON’T FIND US ANYWHERE NEARLY SO LENIENT. GOT THAT?

Crawleigh shook in his seat. He nodded violently.

GOOD. I see a little silhouetto of a man scaramouche scaramouche will you do the fandango...

A hole in the sunroof chose this moment to make its presence felt. The rain dripped onto Crawleigh’s head. He didn’t care. All he had to do tonight was to swap over two babies. What could be simpler than that?

--------------------

The maternity hospital was fairly quiet, if you didn’t count the screams of women in labour.

Mr Brown knew what his role in the actual physical action of having babies ought to be. He should be pacing the corridors, puffing nervously on his pipe, making small talk with the other fathers. Then a matronly nurse with a twinkling eye would pop her head around the door and say Mister Brown? It’s a boy or a girl, or twins, or something

and he would hand around the cigars he had bought for the occasion, congratulate Deirdre, and go off and get stinking drunk. He‘d done it twice before, and you soon got the hang of it. It was like shelling peas.

The No Smoking sign was the first hurdle. Deirdre was the second. Mister Brown blamed Woman’s Hour.

He felt strongly that it wasn’t his place to sit next to Deirdre and exhort her to breathe. She knew how to breathe. He was pretty sure about that. He had done his bit nine months earlier when a power cut had sent them to bed earlier than planned, and he didn’t see why he needed to go to classes on ‘Constructive coparenting’ at his time of life. And he didn’t see why he had to tell Deirdre to do something she’d been doing for years. And what was he meant to do with the cigars?

It wasn’t like this in the old days.

In the old days Deirdre had done little more than bustle around the house arranging flowers, with occasional spurts of shopping thrown in to liven up the day before the Women’s Institute meeting. Then one morning he had come down to breakfast to discover Deirdre in a smock that would have not looked out of place on a Nativity play shepherd, if the actor playing the shepherd was five foot eight and was the kind of Shepherd who had a NUCLEAR POWER NO THANKS badge pinned to the right hand side of his bosom. And there was muesli. Not kippers. Not sausages. Bacon was right out. Bacon was practically the Eighth Deadly Sin. From that day

forward it had been muesli all the way. And Mrs Brown’s confinement had been mystically transformed into the most joyous and sharing experience that two people can have.

Well, he hadn’t got anything against joyous sharing experiences. Here’s to joyous sharing experiences. Joyous sharing experiences were all right by him. It just that, as far as he was concerned, Deirdre could have this joyous sharing experience by herself. He’d sidled out of the labour room, and was now huddled by a service entrance puffing at his pipe. He was sheltered from the rain, but not from the cold or the wind.

He shivered. It happened to them at a certain age. Your father never warned you about it. Suddenly they started ordering their own newspaper, the sort with pages with names like Lifestyle and Options. They started to join things, and did these robotic exercises in pink socks with the feet cut out. They started to blame you for not having had to work for a living for twenty-five years. It was hormones, or something.

A Citroen 2CV drew up by the dustbins. The young man who got out was wearing a raincoat and carrying a large bundle. He ran across the car park getting wetter with each step. When he reached the service entrance Mr Brown said, “You’ve left your lights on.”

“Damn. It’s supposed to have this thing that bleeps. Here, hold this.” He thrust the bundle into Mr Brown’s arms and dashed back across the car park to wrestle with the car's

door and lighting system. Mr Brown was surprised to find that the bundle seemed to be a small carrycot, with a cover over it.

From the weight there was a baby in the carrycot. Strange, thought Mr Brown, most people take babies away from Maternity Hospitals...

“Thanks,” said the young man in the raincoat, who was by now soaked through. He took back the bundle and winked. “Is it happening yet?” he asked.

Deep in the leather armchair of his soul Mr Brown felt vaguely proud to be so instantly recognisable as a parent.

“Yes,” he admitted, “She’s in labour, if that’s what you mean.

“Already? Any idea how long we’ve got to go?”

We? Obviously a Doctor With ideas about coparenting. “Not long now,” said Mister Brown, “She was, uh, doing it when I had to pop out...” He gestured vaguely with his pipe to indicate pressing calls of nature.

“Shaitan! Now? Why didn’t you say so?” Crawleigh shouldered his burden of waterproofed carrycot and headed for the green swing door. “Oh blast I’ve forgotten. What room’s she in?”

“Room Three,” said Mr Brown “It’s at the top of the stairs.” He fumbled in his pocket for the packet. “Would you like to share a cigar experience?” he called, but Crawleigh was already running through the doors. Mr Brown sighed,

and put the cigars away. Then he returned to his pipe.

It had gone out.

--------------------

If you have ever watched a slick stage magician perform a three-card trick, or been hustled by a respectable gentleman with a pea and three shells, you will know the ease and dizzying slickness with which three similar objects can be swapped, exchanged and transferred from place to place, so that you lose any knowledge of which was where to start with.

This was nothing like that, although the principle is sort of the same.

Watch carefully. We will stop the action:

Mrs Brown is giving birth in Maternity Room Three. She is having a dark-haired male baby we will call baby A.

The wife of the American Ambassador, Mrs Harriet Dowling, is giving birth in Maternity Room Four. She is having a dark-haired male baby we will call baby B.

Nurse Hodges is a devout Satanist. As a child she went to Sabbat School regular as prunes, and although she won several black stars for things like handwriting and liver she was never particularly bright. She is being handed a dark-haired male baby we will call The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is

called Dragon, Prince of this World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Darkness.

There. Got it? Ok, roll ‘em:

“Is that him?” said Nurse Hodges, staring at the baby. “Only I’d expected maybe funny eyes. Or teensyweensy little hoofikins. Or a widdle tail.” She turned him round as she spoke. No horns either. The devil’s child looked ominously normal.

“Yes, it’s him,” sighed Crawleigh.

“Well, I knew it must be, what with you saying he was and all. Coo. Fancy. Me holding the Antichrist. Me bathing the Antichrist. Wiping his little botty and tickling his little toesywoeses...”

She appeared quite carried away, and was now addressing the child. Crawleigh waved a hand in front of her face. “Hello? Nurse Hodges?”

“Sorry, sir. He is a little sweetheart. Do you think he looks like his dad? I bet he does. I bet he looks like his daddywaddykins...”

Crawleigh sighed. “She’s in maternity room three, and she may already have had the baby. Be on standby I want the exchange made as soon as is possible. Got it?”

“OOO’s a widdledumpydumpywumpyden? OOOOOOOOOO’s a widdlerumpypumpydumpyden? Room three is it, sir? Righty-ho.”

#william the antichrist #good omens #Definitive Good Omens #ineffable edition #transcript #the bentley #has come so far #from such humble origins #Mr Young > Mr Brown #tfw when you type internal and go back and fix it to infernal and then have to go back and fix it back to internal again #I made an effort to get the page number in each picture but still messed it up for page 14 #stuff I made

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another-blog-bites-the-dust · 5 years

Text

Invisible.

Summary: After being invisible for most of your life, you finally find John who- years later- sees who you really are.

Warnings: Lots of angst I HATED MAKING JOHN UPSET 😭 swearing, violence, slight suggestiveness, general pain because John gets so angry but ends with fluff!

A/N: John is too innocent for this...which is why I put him through it 😭😅I hope you enjoy! 💖

You always felt invisible to the world, that was probably one of the main reasons why you were so good at your job. You blended in and always perfectly camouflaged between the buildings. No one ever took a second glance at you, they barely noticed you were there anyway.

Except one person.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" You looked up from the book you were reading on the park bench one sunny evening in July. Your brow crinkled slightly, people in London weren't the friendliest so why was the man beside you starting a conversation?

A small smile appeared on your face "Lovely," you replied "The sun makes the roses smell sweeter for some reason. You can smell the row of flowerbeds filled with them at the front of the park way back here when the sun is shining." You discreetly placed your bookmark between two pages and shut over the book.

The man inhaled some air though his nose- you were right. "John Deacon," You shook his hand but hesitated giving him your name. You eventually told him with a shy grin. You read people well and he was full of innocence and obliviousness. He didn't know who you were and chances were he never would. "There's a cracking little cafe just over there," he pointed to it and you could just see it between the trees. "Fancy a tea, Y/N?"

Since that day you had been drawn to John. He had flirted endlessly with you in the first few weeks you had known him. You hung about the streets of London a lot, he took you to a music shop that was one of his favourites and smugly showed you him expertly strumming a bass guitar with a cheeky grin on his face. "Very impressive," you purred and walked around the shop.

John put the guitar down and then placed his hands in his pockets "Uh...my mum asked if you'd like to come round for dinner tonight?" He asked, not looking up to you due to nerves.

You smiled to yourself, looking at the guitars hanging up on the walls. "You've told your mum about me?"

"Course I have!" He said "I never want to shut up when I start telling people how gorgeous you are or how smart you are." He shyly bit down on his lip, he was taken aback when you casually linked your arm through his, the first of any type of contact with him.

"I'd love that, John." You both didn't know that much about each other- well, you knew more about him than he did of you after all the extensive background checks you did on him and his family. They were nothing for you to worry about. When he asked what you did for a living you had told John that you worked with a security firm- technically that was kind of true. He didn't know the extensiveness of it and there was a fairly large chance he would never know. John picked you up later that night and you went to his parents house, you had bought his mum a bunch of flowers and John's father a bottle of wine. His father mused over the Italian wine with an impressed tone as he inspected the bottle. You didn't want to say that you manged to pick it up when you were in Italy last week being treated like a punchbag- perks of the job.

"So Y/N!" John's mother smiled at you from across the table. You were sat next to John who kept discreetly placing his hand on your knee every now and then. "Do you live in London on your own or do you stay with your parents?"

John shot his mother a wide eyed glare, he gently squeezed on your knee and was about to answer on behalf of you, he wasn't sure how you'd react to that question. He already knew what the answer would be. "Uh no," you sadly smiled "My parents passed away when I was sixteen. I lived with my grandparents until I got a place of my own a few years ago." You placed your hand on top of John's and he released his grip on your knee when you began soothingly rubbing your fingers over his knuckles. John's mother profoundly apologised over and over but you assured her it was alright, she didn't know.

After dinner John took you up to his old bedroom. "Sorry about mum,"

"No," you smiled and took his hand "It's okay!" You were leaning up against the wall, John was moving closer and closer to you. He gently pressed his lips to yours, even though you knew he was going to kiss you, it still took you by surprise. He pulled back faster than his lips were on yours and nervously apologised. You grinned and grabbed his hand before he could move away and tugged him towards you. "Only apologise if you're not going to do it again..." you smiled and John happily took that as a sign. His lips were on yours once more.

•••

"Things between you and John getting serious then?" Your colleague and friend, Mark, asked. "Only I heard that you've moved in with him now."

You shrugged a shoulder with a small smile on your face "A part of me hopes it's getting serious...the other part is petrified that he's going to find out everything." You sighed and sat down next to Mark to get some advice. "How did you tell Claire?" You asked, referring to his wife.

"I didn't. You know we can't tell anyone unless they find out- even then we can only tell them so much." He tapped away on the computer in front of him "I know you're worried something bad is going to happen to him," you glanced up to Mark and then let your eyes fall. He was right. In this line of work people were always after you and you didn't want to put John in any danger. "There's a way you can kind of keep him under a watchful eye- aside from security cameras and such." He motioned to the gold chain on your neck that had a locket attached. It was more than just a necklace- it was a tracking device. "Give him your tracker, you can always get another one."

You nodded and let out a sigh. "He's going on a European tour. He leaves tomorrow afternoon." You said. "It's good when he's gone- not good," you quickly corrected yourself feeling a little guilty for saying that. "But easier." Mark hummed, understandingly. "When he's touring he doesn't know I'm in another country almost dying," you chortled and nervously picked at your fingernails. "I think he would be crushed if he ever found out about what I do. That's why I'm hoping he'll never find out." You took off your necklace "But for now I can try and keep him safe."

Later that night, your head was resting on your hand while you traced your fingers across John's bare chest while your legs were intertwined together. "I'll miss you so much," John smiled "But I'll be back in a few weeks."

"You'll be too busy rocking out every night to miss me," you smirked and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I want you to have something," you whispered, looking deep into John's eyes before taking off your necklace and clasping it around his neck. He grinned and glanced down, rubbing it between his fingers. "Keep a piece of me with you and you'll always be safe..." you brushed your fingers over the chain, tears welling in your eyes.

"I'll never take it off my neck so long as shall live." He kissed you "I'll treasure it forever." You let out a small sob and hugged him tightly. "Love," John cooed "I'm only gone for a few weeks, I'll be home back in bed with you before you know it."

"I know," you sniffled and curled up against him. The necklace shone in the faint moonlight, almost taunting you. "Stay safe."

•••

You flinched and stood up straight when you heard your superior announce herself. "Ma'am," you nodded. She handed you a file "What's this?" You asked with your brow furrowing slightly at the papers that read: 'SECURITY BRIEFING' at the top.

"The royals, Prince Charles and Princess Diana, have specifically asked for you to be their guard at Live Aid next week."

You went wide eyed and hurried to catch up with her "I c-can't do that ma'am!" Your voice trembled "J-John- Queen! Queen are going to be there and John will see me!" It had been a few years since John returned from his tour around Europe. Your necklace was still hanging from his neck. And an engagement ring was hanging from yours. You never wore it at work or on a job- if someone caught you, they'd know you had someone that they could use against you. You always slipped it on when you arrived home though.

She raised a brow and folded her arms at your outburst. "Sadly we do not get to pick and choose in this field, agent." She said between gritted teeth. "Especially when the royals specifically asked for you. Most people would be thrilled at that! You have been their guard many times over the years and they consider you one of the best and the most professional. You will do this." You huffed and ran a hand through your hair, debating with her about John. She narrowed her eyes "Make yourself invisible then. You're good at that."

"John always sees me!" Your voice cracked "Ma'am-"

She held up her hand "This discussion is finished, Y/L/N. I'm sorry but this has to be done." She walked away and you let out frustrated growl under your breath.

John noticed a shift in your mood after that day, he was getting worried. "Are you going to be there tomorrow?" He asked and you hesitated taking a sip of tea.

"Uh...I meant to say," you placed down your mug "Work needs me and I...I'm sorry, John."

His eyes softened and he hugged you- you were surprised at his reaction. "Is this why you've been acting weird over the past week? Because you can't go tomorrow?"

"I know how important this is to you and the boys..." your voice was shaking and so were your hands. "I'm sorry," you whispered and a tear fell down your cheek.

John was quick to wipe it away "Hey, hey, hey! It's okay!" He smiled reassuringly.

"Why are you always so good to me? So understanding?" You turned away from him and let out a staggered breath. "I don't deserve you..."

John scoffed and hugged you from behind "Now don't you be getting all like that! There's plenty more concerts for you to come too!" He turned you to face him. "Please don't cry," he softly rubbed away your tears with his thumbs while cupping your face. "You'll set me off!" You pressed your forehead against his and he pecked your nose. "Why don't we have an early night, hmm? Would you like that?" You tentatively nodded. 24 hours from now this could all be very different but you had to try and be invisible from John and the band- it was the only way.

•••

"Is everything alright?" You looked up to the soft voice and blinked "Only you look a little nervous, Y/N."

You smiled "I'm perfectly alright, your highness." She raised her brow. Diana knew you well enough now that something was the matter. You sighed "Queen are playing so that means John's here today and...and he doesn't know what I do." You explained and she sent you a sympathetic smile. You had told her all about him and of course, your worries about him eventually finding out. Over the years you both confided in each other and considered each other as more a close friend and not as a member of the royal family and a bodyguard. "I have to keep myself invisible from him."

She placed a hand on your arm and sent you a small smile "I'll do my bit to help," she winked and you grinned.

"I'm the once supposed to be protecting you...not the other way about!" You laughed and she giggled. You all walked through backstage to get to their seats.

"Your highness!" Someone stopped and bowed in front of Charles and Diana and you swiftly raised an arm across them, reminding the person of their boundaries. "Some of the performers would like to meet you!" Diana shot you a concerned gaze but you sent her a small nod when you noticed The Who and Bowie up ahead. Queen were no where in sight. You kept close to the royals as they moved forward and shook people's hands. "And here comes more royalty!" You froze catching a glimpse of John's fluffy hair. You looked to the ground and tried to hide your face a little. But you looked up just as John glanced behind Diana, his smile falling. He opened his mouth to call out your name but Diana stood in front of him, blocking his line of vision.

"John Deacon, isn't it?" She sweetly smiled and held out her hand for him to shake. John couldn't deny royalty. He shook her hand but still tried to look to see if it was really you behind her. "Very nice to meet you- thank you for your contribution today." She sweetly smiled. "We should be going to our seats." She gently nudged Charles who nodded in agreement. Diana discreetly pulled you with her to try and get you out of the situation. John stood there numb- he didn't know what to feel. Was it actually you?

"Thank you," you sadly whispered to her "You didn't have to do that for me..."

She smiled and reassuringly squeezed your hand "I know, but you risk your life for us...it's the least I can do." You sat beside her while you watched the concert- watching John on stage always made your heart swell. When they finished you stood up and clapped with tears welling in your eyes. Then the band bloody sat behind you all- just your luck. You could hear John murmur your name to the boys and you shut your eyes over, shakily sighing and bracing yourself for a hand tapping on your shoulder.

Then you felt the tap. Your eyes flickered over your shoulder and you saw a flash of blonde. "It is you!" Roger smiled. Diana sent you a wary glance and you reassured her with a small nod. "John was wondering-"

You cut him off "I'm working." You hissed and looked at John who looked as if he wanted to ask you a million questions. "I can't talk to any of you right now..." you turned back around and rubbed the bridge of your nose between your fingers. You had a lot of explaining to do.

•••

You arrived home, there was a faint glow coming from the kitchen. You sighed and placed your keys down before walking through. John was sitting at the table with a cup of tea that was half empty. He looked up to you and then took a sip. You sat down across from him and began twirling your fingers. "I didn't plan on telling you like this..." you quietly admitted.

"No, I bet you weren't going to tell me at all." John snapped. He had every right to be angry with you and you were ready for his wrath, but it still hurt. "What even are you?" He asked with tears starting to sting his eyes. "What do you do? Are you a bodyguard?"

"Sometimes," you whispered.

John banged his fist against the table and you flinched. "Stop being so vague with me!"

"I couldn't tell you unless you knew!" Your voice raised and a tear slipped down your face.

"That doesn't even make any sense!" John turned away and loudly sniffled. "Who do you work for? Clearly not a typical security firm!"

"MI5 originally....now MI6," you told him even though you really shouldn't have- your revelation shocked him, you could see it on his face. "Secret service agent- I suppose you could class me as a spy depending on the situation. The royals often request me as a bodyguard. I uh...carry out a lot of reconnaissance missions, things like that."

"Have you got hurt before?" He asked, his anger briefly being clouded by concern.

"Sometimes," you replied.

"Badly?" John raised a wary brow and you shook your head no but didn't look him in the eye. A moment of silence passed. "Have you been shot at before?" He asked in a low tone.

"No." Lie.

"Have you shot at someone else before?"

"No." Lie.

He remained quiet for a few seconds. "Have you killed someone before?" You looked to the table and then back to John.

"No." Lie.

"Are you lying?" He sternly asked. You sighed and looked away from him- your silence said it all. "Why all the lies?!" He cried, hot tears flowing down his red cheeks.

"Because I've always been invisible John!" You shouted, taking him by surprise. "Even you only saw a certain extent of me but now...now you can see it all- you can really see me!" You leaned forward "I know what you see...you see a monster. You don't see the woman you fell in love with!"

"I'VE ALWAYS SEEN HER!" He yelled even louder than you and that knocked you back a little. "What was going to happen if you died on the job? Huh?" He seethed- almost hating himself for thinking like that.

"I wrote a letter-"

He cut you off with an unamused, fake laugh. "Oh a letter! Of course! 'Sorry, love, if you're reading this I've been lying this entire time about what I do and well, when's a better time to tell you in an agent for the secret service? When I'm dead!'" He screamed and stood up, leaning over the table. "I bet you didn't even think about me...think about us!" You sadly looked to the chain around his neck and wanted to tell him that of course you thought about him- that necklace around his neck was proof of that. But you stood up and said that you were going to bed- you didn't want to aggravate him any further. You were waiting for John to climb in beside you, wrap his arm around your waist and then whisper sweet words in your ear that would send you off to sleep- but those things never came. When you got up the next morning with stinging eyes and a headache, he wasn't there and your necklace was sitting on the kitchen table.

You eventually arrived at work and sat down with a groan next to Mark. "John found out," you said in a groggy voice. "Left me this morning...wasn't there then I woke up and he took off the necklace." You sighed and shook your head. "The worse part isn't even that he found out...the worse part was seeing the look of fear, disappointment and anger on his face."

Mark placed a hand on your shoulder "He doesn't understand why you lied, Y/N. He doesn't understand that we all have to lie to protect the ones we love. I know that John loves you unconditionally but you have to give him some time. He'll be asking himself a million questions right now- time is the best thing you can give him." You tightly smiled and nodded tentatively. "Got the files for your next mission. A good distraction for you!" He smirked and you just about managed to crack a smile.

You glanced over the notes before being summoned by your boss. You made the journey up to her office, dragging your heels on the way down the hall. You opened the door and went wide eyed "J-John?" You whispered and felt tears pricking your eyes. "W-why are you here?" You asked and stepped further into the office, shutting the door behind you.

"Found him practically demanding to speak with me, Y/L/N," she glared at John. "Take a seat," she motioned to the chair across from John. You sat down and looked at him, it looked like he had barely slept and had been crying for hours. "Mr Deacon," your boss captured his attention. "You must understand that everything that is said in here is all classified information- that also applies to every word she said last night." You placed your head in your hand- of course she'd know you'd tell him. "Because if you say anything, you do not only put her in danger, but you also put yourself in danger." John squeezed his eyes shut and dismally nodded.

"I just...need to be reassured that she'll be okay. If anything happened to-" he cut himself off and began crying again. It broke your heart. You reached for his hand and he let you take it, he was still angry at you for not telling him but it was comforting to know that you were there for him.

An idea popped into your mind. "Show him a scenario situation- five minutes is all I'm asking for."

She laughed at your mad suggestion. "Bold of you assume five minutes is enough time for you..." she uttered.

"Bold of you assume that five minutes isn't enough time for me," you challenged. "If he doesn't get to see me in a situation- I'm walking. I'll hand in my badge and my gun." John's brows raised when you mentioned a gun. "Please," you pleaded. "I want John to know that I can handle myself in dangerous situations. I need to assure him." He gently squeezed your hand and you softly smiled. It was something he always did when he heard you getting upset.

Your boss sighed and nodded "Fine. Five minutes, four men-"

You cut her off "Eight."

"Four!" She raised her voice a little.

You kept your cool "Eight."

"Okay...six!" She said.

"Ten."

She was getting to the end of her tether. You knew you'd get your demand. "Fine! You want ten- you get ten!" She snapped. "Ten men in five minutes...lucky boys. Get yourself organised, agent." You stood up and nodded at her with a smile. It fell slightly with guilt when you glanced at John. He watched you leave the room and a few minutes later, he left with your boss.

John was lead to a room with a two way mirror on the wall. It looked into a room with ten men in it. They had various dangerous weapons in their belts and wearing protective body armour. John saw you sitting in the middle on a chair with your hands and legs bound. "Why doesn't she have anything?" He asked, worry laced between every word.

Your boss proudly smiled. "She doesn't need anything." She held down a button and spoke into a microphone. "Time starts...now." In a blink of an eye you had already managed to untie yourself and take down one of the ten men. You grabbed the gun that was in his belt and began shooting. John jumped and held his chest. Your boss smirked "It's alright, Mr Deacon...all weapons are duds and the guns fire blanks. It's just an indication of wether they are out of the scenario or not. If they take her on with hand on hand combat, they shout out before she's able to seriously hurt them...or kill them." She smirked and John gulped. He watched you use your whole body as a weapon. The same body he tickled when he was feeling playful. The same body he rubbed when it was tense. The same body he kissed and caressed. The same body he held and worshiped when he made love to you. He glanced at the clock- a minute left with three men remaining. You easily took down two of them within seconds of each other. The last man standing punched you in the face a little too hard and you could taste blood on your lip. You growled and managed to flip him by the arm and press him against the two way mirror. John jumped back and watched the man scream out that he was finished. You dropped him with ten seconds to spare. "I hope you understand Mr Deacon...your fiancée is the best agent and weapon we have." She turned to John "That's why I did this favour for her...for both of you." She glanced behind John's shoulder and he turned. He saw you by the doorframe wiping the blood away from your lip. "I'll let you have a moment together."

You sent her a thankful smile and she shut the door behind you. You were both silent for a few minutes until you finally spoke up. "You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you," you whispered. "I couldn't. It went against protocol and I couldn't put you in any danger. I love you too much to do that to you, so I kept a part of me from you- a part I knew you probably wouldn't be able to love anyway." John sniffled slightly and discreetly tried to wipe away his tears. "Lots of people want me dead, John." You lowly spoke and his eyes snapped up to you, narrowing with worry. "If they knew about you...I'd hate to think what would happen. I just wanted to keep you safe- hence the necklace." You let out a shaky sigh "It's a tracking device."

He nodded "Of course it is...why wouldn't it be?!" He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm still angry, Y/N," he admitted "But I will always love you." You let out a sob and John rushed over to you and wrapped his arms around you. "Every part of you," he whispered and hugged you tighter before pulling back and wiping away the small dot of blood on your lip. "You're really good...no! Amazing- at what you do!"

"Sadly that's only scratching the surface of my skills..." you whispered. You laced your fingers with John's "I'm sorry." John just held you in his arms, they were warm and always made you feel safe. He couldn't stay with you all day- you still had work to do and eventually had to leave MI6 but he was in the house when you arrived home. And he was wearing the necklace.

"Thought we could watch a film and snuggle on the sofa tonight?" He suggested and you nodded with a smile. He put on the video and you curled up beside him on the couch with a blanket over you both. John glanced down at you in awe. He couldn't believe how normal you really were, especially when he had seen you take down ten men only hours before.

"What's the film?" You asked and John gulped- not knowing if you'd laugh or kill him at the choice. The theme to James Bond played and you slowly looked to John with a glare. "I just thought that the two of you had a lot in common and I- no! S-stop!" He laughed as you tickled him. "I t-thought it would be f-funny!" He said between giggles. You stopped tickling him when you realised your faces were inches apart. John closed the gap and grabbed your face, passionately kissing you and then pinning you to the couch. "The love of my life is a fucking badass spy." You let out a loud laugh and he kissed you again.

"Thank you, John...for giving me another chance," you kissed him again "And seeing me when I was invisible." You brushed your fingers over his cheeks before deciding to show him how strong you really were by picking him up bridal style- causing him to laugh. "I think my next mission is going to be my best one," you grinned and John raised a brow, asking you what the mission was. You smirked and headed towards the bedroom "It's an undercover mission with you," you suggestively purred and John's eyebrows swiftly raised and a boyish grin spread across his face. John thought that maybe having a fiancée who was a spy wasn't such a bad thing.

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