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threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 3 years

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So Give Me Hope In The Darkness

Dukeceit Week Day 4: Free Day

Janus comes to him scared and broken. And there is nothing Remus wouldn’t do to help him.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 8855

Warnings: violence, dehumanization/people as test subjects, implied past abuse.

@dukeceitweek <3

“Remus, the transport’s here. You ready?”

Remus looked up from where he had been meticulously finishing the last fold on the absolute best paper airplane he had ever made in his life. “The what?”

Roman, leaning against the doorframe of Remus’ office, sighed deeply. “For the love of all things Disney and musical theatre, Remus, check your e-mail on a regular basis.”

Remus glanced at his desk. His laptop sat half-buried in crumpled up reject airplanes, the screen dark, so he slipped his phone from his pocket to check his e-mail with instead and… oops. One official work order, sent over 40 minutes ago, and three more messages from Virgil that all read somewhere along the lines of “Jesus Christ Remus respond to this so we know you read it.” Which, of course, he hadn’t.

“Uh…” Remus said helplessly. Roman scrubbed a hand down his face, then motioned for Remus to follow as he stepped back out into the hallway. Remus scrambled after him.

“I’ll fill you in, but we need to hurry,” Roman said.

“The hell do they need me for? Wasn’t it just another one of those underground lab bullshit raids? Those always turn up fucking zilch.”

“Not this one,” Roman replied and, well, shit. Now Remus was interested enough to shut up and let his brother talk. “They actually found, like, the real headquarters. Evil scientists and all.”

“Fuck yeah, good for them. Logan and Virgil have been working themselves to the bone...r. But why do they need me?”

Roman gave him a look. It was his it’s time to be serious now, Remus look. “They found a, uh…” he hesitated, looking for the right word. “A test subject.”

“Oh.”

Well that answered that.

By this point, Roman had reached the door that led out to the parking garage. He stopped at the door and gave Remus a pointed look.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Remus muttered. Quickly, he emptied out his pockets and shoved his phone, wallet, keys, a small notebook, a miniature lockpick set, and a pocket knife all into Roman’s waiting hands. The last time he’d tangled with an aggressive gifted, he’d gotten the entire contents of his pockets- as well as the pants themselves- reduced to a pile of molten plastic and ash. “Right. Here I go.”

“Logan will brief you. Be careful.”

“I’ll be fine, bro, chill out.” Remus patted Roman’s cheek- which his brother couldn’t do a damn thing about with his hands full of Remus’ stuff- then pushed the door open and made his way out to the intake dock.

There was already a small crowd gathered around, a safe distance from where the armored transport van had been backed into the receiving bay. Logan, Patton, and Virgil were there, of course. But the presence of a handful of armed officers was a surprise. Logan usually refused to allow the police department to send their thugs into situations like this. This sort of thing was what Remus was on the payroll for.

“Wasn’t expecting a party,” Remus said as he approached his team. Logan turned away from his conversation with Virgil.

“Ah, Remus. There you are,” he said. “I take it you have read the work order?”

“I… skimmed it,” Remus lied. Logan looked unimpressed.

“Well, just in case you missed anything important, let us recap. Virgil?”

“Uh, yeah.” Virgil stepped closer, looking troubled. “We found a gifted in there, probably a test subject knowing these bastards. He’s aggressive, borderline feral, and those jokers-” He jerked his head in the general direction of the uniformed police. “Didn’t fucking help the situation. I couldn’t reach him, but I don’t know if that’s cause he’s in a state of mind where logic and reason are completely out the window, or if he’s… like us.”

Remus nodded. His own powers would work where Virgil’s had failed, but only if this one wasn’t completely immune to the effects of other gifteds like he and Virgil were. He turned to Patton. “You got anything for me, pops?”

“Of course!” From the pocket of his white doctor’s coat, Patton produced a small capped syringe filled with bright blue liquid. “I had to guess at the dosage, though.”

Remus accepted the tranquilizer and shoved it in his pocket. It would be a last resort. Looking to Logan, he asked, “Any ideas on powers? What to watch out for?” He was not pleased to see Logan grimace.

“We don’t know yet. The base is still being swept, so it will likely be some time before we will know what, if any, information was found on this subject.”

There was a heavy thunk from inside the armored van that made Patton jump.

“Sounds like we don’t have that kind of time,” Remus mused. “Somebody wants out.”

“He was restrained when we found him. Blindfolded, too,” Virgil offered. “So he needs either visual, touch, or both.”

“Really narrows it down there, Virge,” Remus said with a huff. There was another thunk. “I’m going in. Standard operating procedure?”

Logan nodded. Remus nodded back, then looked to Virgil.

Virgil led him through the crowd of uniforms, snapping at a few of them to move back, and up to the back doors of the van. He met Remus’ gaze. There was another thunk.

“Ok, now!” Remus said. Virgil tore open the door. Remus threw himself at the gifted on the other side, and Virgil slammed the door shut behind him.

He hadn’t been sure what to expect, so when he collided with a much smaller body, his momentum sent them both sprawling across the back of the van. Remus was bigger and stronger though, and didn’t have the disadvantage of being blindfolded, so he flipped the smaller body easily beneath him, wincing slightly at the hiss of pain he heard, and pressed a palm firmly against the bare skin of his neck.

“Why don’t you take a nap,” he growled. His power reached into the body, weaving its way into the circulatory system to slow the heart. Or, well. It tried to. He couldn't get a hold anywhere.

“Fuck. You are like us,” Remus muttered; more to himself than to the other, who was becoming increasingly difficult to hold down as he writhed and struggled against Remus’ weight. With his free hand, Remus reached around to try and fish the syringe out of his pocket. But the movement put him off balance. The gifted threw him off with a sharp jerk and scrambled away.

They both staggered to their feet on opposite ends of the cramped space, and Remus got his first good look at the gifted. His long blonde hair was a tangled mess, and he was still blindfolded- though he tracked Remus’ location enough to bare his teeth at him. Some sort of restraint seemed to be keeping his arms behind his back. Remus kind of wanted to murder whoever had done this to him.

“Hey, look, I’m not trying to hurt you,” he offered, even though he knew Virgil had already tried using his literal powers of persuasion on him. “I swear, I’m just trying to help you. But you need to calm the hell down.”

The gifted had pressed his back up against the wall of the van. Talking wasn’t going to do shit. The sooner Remus ended this the better. He rushed the gifted again; the gifted spun out of his grasp, and his hand closed on… feathers? The fuck? Whatever. The gifted had cornered himself against the back wall of the van. Remus spun sharply and slammed his weight into him. Winded, and with his back pinned into the corner, there was a precious few seconds where the gifted made no move. That was enough time for Remus to slip the cap off the syringe and jam it into the gifted’s thigh.

His muscles immediately went slack, and Remus carefully lowered him to the floor, mindful of the goddamn wings he could now see were strapped down tightly against the gifted’s back.

“What the fuck did they do to you?” he asked sadly. He leaned over to bang three times on the van wall to signal the all clear to Virgil. A sudden, sharp pain raced up his other arm, and he jerked back with a yelp. The gifted had apparently gathered enough strength for one last act of defiance and had lashed out to fucking bite him, what the hell? Remus pushed him back down to the floor, and this time he stayed down.

One of the back doors to the van eased open, and Virgil peeked in. Remus turned to him, and the whole world spun.

“Ah, fuck,” he managed. “Venomous. Cute.”

And then he promptly blacked out.

Remus woke up in one of the dimly lit rooms of Patton’s infirmary. Patton had a vendetta against fluorescent lights, instead opting for soft, warm lights that didn’t give everyone headaches. Remus was thankful for this every time he woke up here- which was often- but especially now. His head was throbbing, and he kind of felt like he’d been hit by Virgil’s big armored transport van. Which he had before (his own damn fault) so he knew exactly how it felt.

His phone buzzed. Wincing at the movement, Remus glanced over to the small table beside the bed where his phone sat amid the pile of his other belongings. Which meant he had been out long enough for Roman to stop by and leave again. His phone buzzed again, so despite his body screaming at him for doing so, he reached over and grabbed it.

His team’s groupchat was filled with missed messages from the past hour. He scrolled through the most recent ones with a slight frown.

Nerdy Wolverine

Patton, please give us an update on Remus’ condition.

Daddy

He’s gonna be just fine, kiddos, he’s just sleeping it off.

Daddy’s Favorite

👏👏👏

Surly Temple

Oh joy.

Daddy’s Favorite

You were just as worried as the rest of us, Dr. Gloom.

Surly Temple

You can’t prove that.

Daddy

Calm down, kiddos.

Nerdy Wolverine

Patton, I would also like an update on the subject.

Daddy

Are you sure? There’s kinda a lot to talk about.

Nerdy Wolverine

Something brief, then. I will come by the infirmary when this meeting is over.

Remus

Logan, texting during a meeting??? 😱😱😱

Surly Temple

Remus!

Daddy’s Favorite

Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!

Remus

I lived, bitch.

Daddy

I’ll be right there! Don’t you dare sit up!

Remus was already in the process of sitting up when Patton burst through the door. He winced slightly at the pain, but moreso at the disappointed look Patton gave him.

“Uh-uh, you lay back down, mister,” he said. Remus sighed.

“I’m perfectly fine, pops,” he whined, but laid back down anyway, because even Remus knew better than to argue with Patton.

“Maybe, but you know the drill,” Patton replied. Remus made a noise of protest, but let Patton take his vitals and check him over. Then after an eternity- or more accurately, about five minutes- Patton stepped back and said, “Alright kiddo, you’re all good. Take it easy though. Maybe go home after the debrief, ok?”

Remus sat up now that he was allowed to. “I can’t believe that little fucker bit me,” he scoffed. He glanced down at his arm, where it had been bandaged up. “What happened to him? Where is he?”

Patton looked a little uncomfortable, which more or less answered Remus’ question. The agency would be forced to hold the gifted here until the illegal lab had been fully cleared out and all the paperwork filed; and, well, there was a good chance Logan’s bosses would send in government officials to “assess the mental stability of the liberated test subject,” which was really just shitty politician speak for “see if this could become a huge scandal and decide if it was better to just make it all disappear.”

“Fuck,” was all he said. Then he got unsteadily to his feet. “Where’s Logan?”

Patton put a hand on his shoulder to help steady him. “He’s in a meeting with the chief of police. They’re trying to take the case.”

“Teach won’t let ‘em,” Remus said proudly. “I’m gonna, like. Go sit in my office. Cool?"

Patton eyed him suspiciously, but nodded. Remus gathered up all of his stuff from the table beside the bed, and darted out the door before Patton could change his mind.

When Janus woke up, he immediately became aware of three things, in consecutive order.

First, he was somewhere he had never been before. That realization did not come as a surprise. He, of course, distinctly remembered the whole… “getting dragged out of his cell by people he didn’t know” incident. Usually he knew better than to lash out, but… there had been so much noise, so much unfamiliar chaos, and in his fear, he hadn’t known what else to do. And of course, it hadn’t done him any good; it never did. And now he was here. Wherever “here” was.

The second realization did come as a surprise, as he sat up on the cot where he’d been laid, and looked around the sparse, softly-lit room: he was completely unbound. His wings were still instinctively pressed against his back, but they twitched at the realization and slowly unfurled to their full span. He winced slightly as tendons snapped into their proper places for the first time in a very long time but then he sighed in relief as the fragile bones settled.

He had only just begun to catalogue the state of the rest of his body when a voice startled him into the third realization: he was not alone in the room.

“Damn, look at you!”

Janus flinched so hard he almost hit the wall the cot was pushed up against. He brought his wings around him protectively, and turned his eyes on the man sitting on a plastic chair near the opposite corner of the room. He narrowed his eyes as he recognized the voice of the man from the truck.

“Hey, hey, don’t ruffle your feathers at me like that,” the man laughed. “Sorry about before, man. It was the only way to get you off the truck.”

Janus didn’t say anything. But he shifted so he was crouched on the cot rather than seated, in case he needed to dart away quickly. That seemed to amuse the man further.

“Relax, I ain’t here for a rematch. You kicked my ass fair and square. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Janus glared.

“I’m Remus, by the way. You got a name, snake-bird?”

He stood up as he said it, and Janus instinctively flinched back. The man-Remus?- didn’t look like the bad people, dressed in baggy jeans and an alluringly soft-looking green flannel. The bad people always wore white coats or body armor, depending on what they were planning to do to him that day. But… maybe they were just trying something new.

The man hadn’t moved closer. He was watching Janus with a look that fell somewhere between sadness and anger, and it kind of made Janus want to curl up into a ball and hide.

“I, uh… I guess they treated you real bad down there, huh?” Remus said slowly. “Look, I know you’re scared, and you’re probably super confused, but you’re safe now. I can at least promise you that.”

He didn’t wait for any sort of response from Janus this time, instead turning to riffle through the bag that had been leaning up against his chair. He withdrew a fluffy, pale yellow blanket. He looked between it and Janus, and while Janus wasn’t the best at reading facial cues, he thought for a moment that Remus looked… embarrassed. Then, he moved forward a few paces and set the blanket down and backed up again.

“Here, uh… that’s for you. If you want it. Anyway, yeah. I’m gonna just.” He edged toward the door. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

“Janus.” His name leapt from his tongue before he could stop it. His voice was raspy, and his throat was sore, and he was still afraid- terrified- but still he ground out the words that made Remus pause in the doorway to look back at him. “I’m… Janus.”

The file Logan put down in front of them was almost the size of the textbooks Remus used as doorsteps in college (rather than their intended use) and for a moment, they all just stared at it. Then, Remus said what they were all thinking: “Well, fuck.”

“I hate to agree,” Roman sighed. “But yes. That.”

“Of course there will be much more to go over after I have had the time to fully analyze these files, but I thought it imperative I explain the current situation to you all as soon as possible,” Logan said. He was seated at the head of the conference table. The rest of the team was seated around the table except for Virgil, who paced restlessly nearby. Everyone- even Remus- stayed quiet, because when Logan talked, everyone listened.

“With this file, and similar documents recovered both from the most recent site and from previous sites, as well as the recovery of a live test subject, our case is more than sufficient to ensure those responsible will not walk away from this.”

There was a collective sigh of relief. Virgil, who had been working on this case alongside Logan for years, looked especially relieved. He collapsed into the chair next to Remus, and Remus leaned over to ruffle his hair with a grin.

“You guys should be proud,” Patton exclaimed. “You worked so hard to see this through!”

“Well it’s not finished yet,” Roman pointed out. He nodded to the file in the middle of the table, that none of them had dared to open yet.

“Roman is correct,” Logan said. For a moment, he looked very tired; then, he adjusted his tie, and continued. “We must first ensure we have indeed apprehended all parties responsible. There are more names in these files than persons in our custody. Additionally, there is the matter of the test subject-”

“Janus,” Remus interrupted. Everyone gave him an odd look, so he clarified, “His name is Janus. He told me.”

“...Janus, then,” Logan amended. “Janus is to remain in our care until he can be evaluated. If he is deemed capable, he will be free to go once the investigation is closed.”

Logan did not, nor did he need to, state what would happen to Janus if he didn’t pass the evaluation. The agency’s evaluation essentially just looked to see if a gifted could still be considered a “person,” or if they had gone “feral”- and not in the fun way. Feral gifteds got locked up somewhere and were never seen again.

Remus, like all gifteds, hated it; but the government viewed them as dangerous. And a gifted that wasn’t in complete control of their mind, and thus, their powers, was considered too dangerous to let go free. Regardless of what trauma had made them that way in the first place, and if, with proper care, they could heal from it. It made Remus sick.

“They’re not taking Janus,” Remus spat out, interrupting whatever Logan was going to say next. “I won’t let them.”

“Ree,” Roman said gently. “We may not have a choice.”

“No. You guys haven’t seen him- he isn’t aggressive, he’s just scared.”

“Do you know how many people it took to get him into the damn truck?” Virgil snapped. “Oh and also, he bit you? You’re immune to gifted powers and he still knocked you out?”

“Think about it from his perspective. You’ve been trapped in literal hell for who knows how long, and then suddenly you’re getting dragged out by people you don’t know, blindfolded and tied up, to go who knows where? I’d bite too.”

Patton looked heartbroken at Remus’ words. Virgil didn’t look convinced. But it was Logan who spoke.

“We have time,” Logan said. “Until the investigation closes, he remains in our custody. We make the decisions regarding his care.” He cast Remus a meaningful look, and repeated, “We have time.”

Remus understood.

He left Janus alone for the rest of the day, because he figured the guy probably could use some time to calm down. He even managed to persuade Patton to put off any sort of medical examination for the time being- partly for the same reason, and partly because Remus would need to be there in case Janus reacted badly, and Remus still sort of felt like shit and he just wanted to go home and sleep.

So Remus had gone home, passed out for like 15 hours, and woke up feeling a little less like death and decay.

The benefit of going to sleep at like 2pm was that, even after his stupidly long “I got bit by something venomous” nap, he still made it back to the agency at the crack of dawn. It was quiet, none of the police department’s goons hanging around, and Remus, with his years of practice, could sneak easily past Logan’s office.

He peeked in through the little window in the holding cell door. Janus himself was nowhere to be seen- instead, there was a Janus-sized blanket mound curled up on the floor in the corner of the room. The sight made Remus smile fondly.

“Damnit, you’re actually kinda cute,” he muttered. And then promptly decided he was not going to overthink that.

Remus camped out outside the holding cell until the headquarters came to life. The mornings were always a flurry of activity, even moreso today what with yesterday’s events. He saw the moment the noise from the hallway woke Janus up- the gifted poked his head out from under the blanket, mismatched eyes blinking sleepily, and then quickly vanished into the blanket mound once more. It was stupidly adorable.

An intern came by with a tray of food for Janus, and Remus stopped him from approaching the door.

“I got this, kid,” he said with an amused grin. “This is way above your paygrade.”

The intern handed over the tray with a look of relief and scampered off. Poor kid.

The blanket mound stirred when Remus stepped into the room, but there was no further indication that Janus intended to come out. He shut the door behind him, and walked over to crouch down near- but not too near- the blanket mound.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. I take it you like the blanket?”

The blanket shuffled backward a few inches. Remus set the tray down on the floor in front of him.

“I don’t really know what kind of food you like, so hopefully there’s something here you'll eat,” he said, eyeing the assorted fruits, toast, and eggs that had been sent up. “But like, if you want something else, you can tell me.” There was no response, so Remus stood up slowly and backed away. “I’ll just… be over here, then.”

He dragged the plastic chair to the opposite end of the room to give Janus as much space as possible, and plopped down in it with every intention of waiting him out.

It took about forty minutes of idly scrolling through his phone before Janus emerged, slowly and warily, mismatched eyes darting between Remus and the plate of food. Remus glanced toward him.

“Go ahead. It’s yours. Cold by now, I’ll bet.”

It took a further ten minutes for Janus to make up his mind and emerge fully from under the blanket and approach the plate- but when he finally did, he downed the food so fast, Remus was surprised he didn’t choke.

“Guess you like everything,” he mused. “Fuck, did they even feed you down there?”

He wasn’t really expecting an answer, because Janus was moving back toward his blanket. But rather than vanishing again, Janus sat down facing Remus, with his back to the wall, wings draped around his body like a blanket, and the actual blanket across his lap.

“They did, sometimes,” he replied. His voice sounded a bit rough still, like it had been a while since he’d used it, and quiet enough that Remus had to strain to hear him from across the room.

“Shit, man, these people fucking suck. How long'd they have you?”

Janus seemed to consider the question, but ended up just shaking his head. “I don’t know.” He avoided Remus’ eye for a few minutes, but he looked like he had more to say; Remus just waited in silence until finally, Janus asked, slowly, “Why am I here? Who are you?”

“I’m glad you ask, bud,” Remus answered. He stood up, and Janus flinched back slightly, feathers puffing up a bit. Remus moved a few feet closer, and then sat down on the ground so he was level with Janus. “It’s kinda a long story, but the short version is that it’s our job to go after the kinds of people who do this sort of shit. And the people who took you are gonna go to jail for the rest of their fucking lives for what they did.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “They ain’t gonna lay a finger on you ever again. I promise.”

Janus eyed him carefully, like he wasn’t sure if he could believe what he was hearing. Remus couldn’t blame him. And then he was gone, vanishing back under the yellow blanket. Remus cleared his throat awkwardly, and stood up.

“I, uh. Yeah. I guess I’ll leave you alone then.” He paused at the door, and glanced over his shoulder. “You want more blankets? Some pillows, maybe?”

A muffled “Yes,” was the reply. Remus, again, could not help but smile fondly to himself.

Sleeping on the floor meant that Janus could stay alert to anyone approaching his cell, by sensing the vibrations in the ground. By his third visit, Janus could easily discern Remus’ gait from that of the others that passed down the hall.

He brought pillows and more blankets, just like he said he would. And then he asked if he could bring a friend in.

“He couldn’t give you more than a quick once-over when you first got here,” Remus explained while Janus sat on the floor and inspected his new blankets, marveling at how soft they were. “But he wants to make sure you’re not hurt anywhere.”

“I’m not hurt anywhere,” Janus said quickly. It wasn’t totally a lie; he wasn’t hurt anywhere specific, he just sort of hurt in general. That was normal though.

“Ok, I’m gonna pretend I believe that,” Remus huffed. “But even so. He’s gotta do it sometime soon.”

Janus cast Remus a sideways glance. He still wasn’t sure what to make of the situation, and he still wasn’t sure how much he could trust these people. The ones before had never shown him kindness- he’d been grabbed off the street in his early teens and treated like an animal ever since. This new place… it felt different from anything he’d experienced before, and that made him wary.

Being shown kindness and then having it taken away was worse than having never been shown it at all.

“Okay,” Janus said finally, because he didn’t think he was actually being given a choice in this.

“Okay,” Remus echoed. He seemed unconvinced, which sent a small spike of anxiety into Janus’ chest, because the last thing he wanted to do was upset Remus. The man had brought him blankets, for goodness’ sake. “I’ll text him.”

Janus decided to busy himself with nervously running his hands through his oily feathers. His wings badly needed grooming, but he didn’t know how to ask for brushes. Would they let him have brushes here? He wasn’t allowed them at the old place. He was so lost in that thought, that he didn’t sense someone approaching the door until it was being opened.

“Hey, pops, come on in,” Remus said. Janus glanced over, and was immediately gripped by panic.

He didn’t recognize the man, and his expression of “cheer fading into concern” was an unfamiliar one, but it was the white coat he wore that Janus recognized. He knew what the white coat meant.

He got caught in his pile of blankets as he tried to scramble to his feet. He tripped and crashed to the ground; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remus make a grab for him. But he was too quick, kicking off the blanket that had tangled up his legs and springing to his feet. He used his wings to balance himself and buffeted Remus over the head in the process.

“Janus- fuck-” Remus staggered back to avoid a second blow from Janus’ thrashing wings. The man at the doorway looked torn between rushing in to help and backing away. Janus bared his fangs at him, but he was shaking so badly, he felt like a small breeze could topple him.

The man took a step closer, hand held out, but Janus barely heard his words- “Oh gosh, kiddo, I’m not gonna hurt you!”- over the blood pulsing in his ears. His back hit the wall behind him, and abruptly his legs gave out. He slid down to the ground and curled his wings over his head.

“Janus?” Remus’ voice sounded far away beyond the curtain of feathers. “Hey, you gotta talk to me here.”

“I’ve been good,” Janus managed to choke out. “I- Please don’t, I’ve… I’ve been good.” He curled further in on himself, fully expecting to be struck.

But nothing happened. The door opened and closed. Then silence. Janus risked a quick peek through his feathers and found that the other man was gone. Remus sat a few feet away.

“It’s ok, he’s gone,” Remus said quickly. Janus did not lower his wings, but the shaking abated slightly.

“I’ve been good,” he said again, a little more firmly this time. “You promised.”

Remus looked unnerved. He scooted a few inches closer and asked, “What did I promise?”

“That they… they wouldn’t hurt me again,” Janus hissed. Then, softer this time, “I’ve been good.”

“You have been good, but that doesn’t have anything to do with… wait, did you think…” Remus looked confused, his brow furrowing slightly. “Patton isn’t one of them. Is that what you thought?”

Janus just glared.

“Oh, snake-bird.” Remus’ eyes softened. “Patton’s one of us. He’s ok.”

“He looks like them,” Janus growled. “White-coat.”

“White coat… oh, shit, man, I didn’t even think.” The sudden volume of Remus’ voice made Janus shrink back into the safety of his own wings. “Oh, shit, sorry. Hey, come back. I’m sorry.”

Janus folded his wings back with a huff, and gave Remus an unamused look. Remus gave him a soft smile in return.

“I mean it. Patton is one of us. I can tell him to take off his coat. He won’t touch you unless you tell him he can. And you can tell him to leave, at any point, and I’ll throw him out myself. Deal?”

Janus searched his face for a long time. Remus seemed… so distressed. What would be the point, of faking that? There would be no reason to fake any of this, would there?

(Or maybe there was, and he was just too blinded by the hope that his nightmare had finally come to an end to see it.)

But slowly, reluctantly, but unable to shake the small seed of trust in Remus that had just started to take root, Janus said, “Deal.”

After the small fiasco that was Janus and Patton’s first meeting, things actually went rather smoothly. Patton wasn’t able to give as thorough of an exam as he was hoping. Janus was too skittish for that. And he had flat out refused a blood draw, which Remus had kind of expected.

But at the very least, Patton was able to sign off that there were no signs of physical trauma that demanded immediate medical care, which was really all Logan’s bosses wanted.

Despite his initial reaction, it seemed like the experience with Patton actually helped Janus feel more confident in his new situation. He grew more comfortable exercising his new control over his body and his space, even going so far as to tell Remus to go away when he wanted to be alone. And when he asked for brushes for his wings one day, Remus left work then and there to go get them. When he came back, Janus was waiting at the door for him.

“Well then, eager beaver, I hope I got the right stuff,” Remus said. He handed over the bag. It was way more than the two brushes Janus had asked for, but Logan had given him the company card and, well, Logan should know better than to do that.

“Anything is better than a rag and my own hands, which is what I usually use,” Janus said. Remus very politely did not make the joke he so desperately wanted to make. “Is that… a bottle of dish soap?”

“Sure,” Remus answered as Janus pulled the little blue bottle of Dawn dish soap out of the bag. “They use it to clean crude oil spills off penguins and shit and, like, a penguin's a bird, right?”

Janus sighed deeply, but he was smiling, and Remus would steal him the sun if it meant Janus would keep smiling.

“Anyway, uh…” Remus shifted awkwardly. “I can, like. Leave you alone, I guess. If you want. Unless you want… uh, never mind, I’ll go-”

“Would you help?” Janus asked. He glanced down at the bag in his hands, and added, with much less confidence, “Um. There are parts I can’t reach.”

“Yeah, of course,” Remus said immediately. “Just tell me what to do?”

Janus guided him to sit down on the ground, and then plopped down next to him. He carefully spread one of his wings out and, after a moment of hesitation, let it drape across Remus’ lap. Remus tried not to feel too overwhelmed by the incredible amount of trust Janus was putting in him right now.

“Here,” Janus passed one of the bristle brushes to Remus- one of many that Remus had bought- and then chose one for himself. “Just go with the growth, please. But if you find any loose feathers go ahead and work them out. Gently, though.”

Remus obeyed. He brushed carefully through the feathers, marveling at their soft golden-brown color. Even covered in oil and grime, they were beautiful. But after a few minutes, Janus frowned.

“Everything ok?” Remus asked. He was suddenly afraid he was brushing too hard, or hurting Janus somehow, even though Janus had given no indication that he was in pain.

“It’s just…” Janus sighed helplessly. “They’re so dirty.”

He looked almost on the edge of tears when he said it, which was enough to put Remus immediately into I will do anything for you mode. “Do you want to try the Dawn? One time Patton used it to wash a cat he found that was all grimed up and shit, and it worked real well.”

Janus seemed to consider it. He glanced over toward the door that led to the little private bathroom attached to the holding cell, then shook his head.

“There’s not enough space in there,” he said. “We’ll make a mess.”

“We can go downstairs,” Remus suggested. “There’s showers in the employee locker rooms. Plenty of space.”

Janus looked skeptical. “Is that allowed?”

It was, technically, not allowed. Janus had not been evaluated yet, and he wasn’t really allowed out of holding until he was. But… well, if they were quick, no one would notice. What was life without a little risk?

“Sure!” he said. “It’s fine.”

“...Okay. Sure.”

Grinning, Remus got to his feet and gathered all their supplies back into the bag. Then he beckoned for Janus to follow.

“Logan’s in meetings for most of the day, and Roman’s off on assignment,” he said. He eased open the cell door and peered out into the empty hall. “And Patton’s usually swamped with paperwork in the afternoons. Everyone else who works here is too scared of me to say anything.”

Janus didn’t question it. Remus led him down the hall and paused to make sure the stairwell was also empty before leading him down the two flights to the ground floor. Janus seemed nervous in the unfamiliar surroundings. He clung close to Remus, close enough that he almost ran into him at several points. Remus tried to give him reassuring smiles and the occasional word of encouragement.

There were voices in the break room, so they had to go around to get to the locker room. It was usually empty at this time, and today was no exception. Remus held the door open and ushered Janus inside.

“The showers are over here.” Remus pulled back the curtain and leaned in to turn on the water. “You a warm water person or a cold water person?”

“Warm,” Janus said quickly. “Please.”

As the water warmed up, Remus helped him to pull off his soft flannel shirt (one of many Remus had bought because the agency-provided shirts were those horrible starchy t-shirts and Janus had hated them.) Remus was amazed at how much healthier the scaled half of his face and body looked after just a week of proper meals and consistent rest.

“Are you sure this isn’t going to turn everything blue?” Janus asked when Remus passed him the bottle of Dawn. He still looked vaguely unconvinced about this whole thing.

“Nah, it won’t, don’t worry!”

Janus sighed. “Ok, but if it does, I shall never forgive you.”

“If I turn your wings blue, I’ll buy you so many blankets, they’ll fill up your whole room. Ready?”

“Well that makes me want my wings to turn blue,” Janus said. He followed Remus into the shower stall.

It took longer than Remus was expecting to wash out all the years of grime from Janus’ wings. It was especially difficult closer to the point where the wings met his back, because Janus couldn’t reach there on his own. Remus worked through those spots carefully, and it wasn’t until he was almost done that he realized Janus had gone silent.

“Hey, you good?”

“Mhmm.”

Remus leaned over to catch Janus’ eye, only to find his eyes were closed. There was a content look on his face.

“...did you fall asleep?”

“No.”

“You totally did!” Remus grinned. “You fell asleep standing up!”

Janus opened his eyes to glare at him, but the glare was tempered by the obvious half-dazed look of someone who had, in fact, just woken up.

“...Ok, maybe I did for a moment there,” Janus huffed. The glare became a pout. “It just feels nice.”

Remus let his grin soften into a smile. “Good. I’m glad.”

The sound of the locker room door opening and closing startled them both. Remus pulled back the curtain just enough to look out into the locker room- and he immediately came face-to-face with Virgil.

“Oh. ‘Sup, Virge.”

Virgil was eyeing him suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

“Uh… a smoothie?”

“That’s not… Remus, that’s not how that meme works. And you’re not even holding a smoothie.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Are you showering with your clothes on?”

“Sure, doesn’t everyone?”

Virgil’s eyes flicked toward the ground, then back up to Remus. “You realize I can see there’s someone in there with you, right?”

Remus also glanced downward. The curtain stopped about six inches off the ground. “Uh…”

“And I can also see the pile of feathers on the floor that you sure as fuck better not try and wash down the drain.”

“I’m not that dumb.”

Virgil sighed. “Hello, Janus.”

Janus hesitantly poked his head out from the other side of the curtain. “Hello.”

“The fuck are you guys doing?”

“We’re not having sex if that’s what you’re thinking,” Remus said. Janus made a choked sound and vanished back into the showers.

“There is no universe in which I was thinking that,” Virgil growled.

“No universe? Not even one?”

“What the fuck are you doing down here?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “If you must know, snake-bird here looked like a penguin in an oil spill. We’re washing his wings.” A pause. “Hey, since you’re here, wanna hand me a couple of towels? The big fluffy ones Patton hides.”

Virgil walked away grumbling, but by the time Remus had finished rinsing the soap out of Janus’ wings and shut off the water, Virgil was waiting outside with a stack of Patton’s fluffy light blue towels. Remus took one and wrapped Janus up in it.

“What’re you up to, Emo?” he asked as he took a second towel and started toweling off Janus’ dripping wings.

“Logan sent me to find you,” Virgil answered. He was watching the scene unfold in front of him with a look that Remus didn’t bother trying to decipher. “You weren’t answering your phone.”

“Probably ‘cause it’s sitting on my desk. What’s Teach need me for?”

“He wants to talk. Work stuff.”

“Oh.” Remus looked at Janus. “We should, uh. Probably get you back upstairs before he comes looking for me himself.”

Janus nodded. He gathered up the brushes and, after a moment of eyeing Virgil cautiously, reached over and snatched up one more of Patton’s fluffy towels and shoved it in the bag as well. At Virgil’s look of incredulity, there was nothing else for Remus to do but burst out laughing.

As it turned out, Logan would probably not have been upset over Janus’ field trip downstairs, because when Remus finally made it to his office, the first thing Logan said to him was, “Would you be opposed to letting Janus stay in your home?”

Because apparently, Logan had pulled some strings with his bosses to get Janus out of holding; he had argued that spending his time in a home environment- instead of a type of confinement similar to what he’d endured for a large portion of his life- would vastly improve his chances of passing the assessment. The higher-ups had agreed, with the stipulation that Janus be released into the care of one of Logan’s team.

“Of course he can come home with me,” Remus had said, almost automatically. It was a chance to get Janus out of the box he’d been stuck in all this time. There was nothing that could make him say no.

Janus had seemed hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to it. So the next day, they had packed up the mountain of pillows and blankets, the bag of brushes and stolen towels, the couple of books Logan had sent up to keep Janus occupied when Remus couldn’t, the snake plushie Virgil had apparently dropped off the night before, and the multicolored cake Patton and Roman had brought by for him that morning that was now half-eaten, and hauled it all over to Remus’ apartment. For a guy who’d been dragged out of hell with only the clothes on his back, Janus sure had a lot of shit to move.

Janus had balked at getting into a car, so Remus talked Patton and Roman into driving his stuff over for him, and then walked with Janus to the apartment. It wasn’t that far, and, Remus realized with a stab of guilt, it was probably the first time Janus had seen the sun in a long time. He kept pausing to close his eyes and tilt his head up toward the sunlight for a few moments at a time, before darting after Remus. Remus didn't stop him.

It slowed them down to the point that when they finally got to the apartment, Roman had let himself and Patton in, brought all of Janus’ stuff up, and then left. Which was just as well- Janus had met Roman only once, and had seemed oddly jumpy around him.

“So, yeah,” Remus said, after showing Janus around. “You can just grab anything you need. I don’t really keep anything fragile in here ‘cause I tend to break stuff, so don’t worry.”

It was odd, seeing Janus standing in the middle of his living room, with his wings- which after their scrubdown, actually had a soft golden sheen to them- folded carefully against his back. But he seemed relaxed in a way Remus hadn’t seen before. Logan was right.

That evening, Remus got Janus settled into the bedroom.

“Where will you sleep?” Janus asked tentatively as Remus dumped all of Janus’ blankets onto the bed.

“Huh? Oh, I’ll just be in the other room,” Remus replied. “I sleep on the couch half the time anyway, no big deal.”

“Oh.” was all Janus said. Remus made sure he was comfortable, and then went to pass out on the couch.

When he woke up sometime late in the night, he wasn’t quite sure what had woken him. Remus was, historically, a heavy sleeper. He’d once slept through a monsoon in a cheap tent. If he was tired enough, he could probably sleep through an earthquake.

He turned his head to squint out into the dark apartment, and could just make out that the bedroom door was ajar. Remus stood up to go check on Janus- and then promptly tripped over Janus.

Remus yelped, and collapsed into the blanket nest that had appeared on the ground next to the couch; Janus yelped, on account of being tripped over, and scrambled out from under his pile of blankets. They both stared at each other through the darkness for a moment, and then both spoke at once.

“Are you ok-”

“I’m sorry-”

They both paused, and then Remus laughed.

“Shit, J, almost gave me a heart attack there. You ok?”

Janus looked a little sheepish. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s ok. What’re you doing sleeping there, though?”

“Um…” Janus looked down at his hands where he was clutching the snake plushie. It was stupidly cute. “I couldn’t sleep, alone. I thought I’d sleep better… out here.”

Remus blinked at him, still half-asleep. And it was probably because he was still half-asleep that he said, “Do you want me to sleep in there with you?”

Janus, after a moment, nodded.

“Ok. I can do that, snake-bird. It’s ok.”

Remus helped Janus stand up, and they moved the blanket mound back into the bedroom. The rest of Janus’ blankets and pillows had been made into a nest wedged into the space between the bed and the wall. Remus smiled fondly.

“Didn’t like the bed, huh?”

“I feel safer on the floor,” Janus said, looking embarrassed. “I can… sense vibrations in the ground. I know if someone’s coming up to me.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Remus glanced between the nest and the bed, and shrugged. “I got the bed, then.”

He laid down, while Remus clamored over the bed to get to his nest and then promptly burrowed under the mountain of blankets. And as he was drifting off, Remus could have sworn he heard a soft sigh from Janus, of something that could, perhaps, be contentment.

Janus had never slept so well before. Tucked into the space between the bed and the wall, in a room so unlike the cement-walled cell he’d spent years calling home- and with the soft snoring of Remus, the man he had tentatively come to trust, nearby, Janus slept through the night. And the night after that, and the night after that.

So when he woke with a start the fourth night, it took him a few groggy minutes to piece together why he was awake. He was still curled up comfortably under his blankets. Remus was snoring away in the bed above him. And then the people in the kitchen took another step toward the bedroom, and the vibrations in the floor raced up to Janus’ body. He sat up in a panic.

“Remus,” he hissed. No response. He reached up and grabbed at Remus’ shoulder to try and shake him awake. “Remus!”

Remus grumbled something incomprehensible, and did not wake. Starting to feel frantic, Janus crawled up onto the bed and shook Remus harder. At the same moment that Remus’ eyes fluttered open, the doorknob turned.

“Janus?” Remus asked, voice rough with sleep. Then the door was flung open. Flashlight beams fell across them both as men poured into the small room. Janus turned, baring his teeth, and spread his wings to shield Remus behind him.

“Take him, alive,” one of the men ordered. Janus squinted through the harsh glare of their flashlights to pick out who was speaking. “Kill the other.”

No. Absolutely not.

Janus caught the leader’s eye and summoned his powers to him. The man tried to look away, but even in the gloom, Janus’ powers held him rooted to the spot.

“Sleep,” he snarled, forcing all of his power and will into the command. The man dropped to the floor.

In the seconds it took for him to wrest the leader’s consciousness away, the other men had fanned out around him. Janus whipped around to his left, but froze when he felt the cold muzzle of a gun touch the back of his neck.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice behind him sneered. A man to his right reached to grab him. There was a crack and a grunt of pain behind him, and the gun fell away- Remus appeared on his right and swung what looked like a crowbar. There was another sickening crack, and the man grabbing for Janus immediately collapsed in a heap.

The momentum of the swing propelled Remus up off the bed and into the next armed goon. They both fell backwards- Remus knocked his gun away, and as they hit the ground, a whack from the crowbar meant only Remus stood back up.

“Janus, get down!” he shouted suddenly. Janus turned- there was one man still standing, and he had his gun leveled at Janus’ chest. Janus froze. A gunshot rang out.

Janus felt himself hit his mound of blankets. Remus had shoved him off the bed. Hesitantly, he peered up over the edge.

Remus had bowled the man over onto his back amid the sheets and now sat on top of him, a hand grasping at the exposed skin of his neck. The man, rather than struggling against Remus’ grip, was clutching at his own chest. He convulsed, then fell still.

Janus put a hand on the ground. There were no more in the apartment. He climbed up onto the bed.

“Remus?”

No response. Janus hesitantly reached out to touch his shoulder. At the same time, Remus slumped forward and slid to the ground.

“Remus!” Janus cried out in alarm. He vaulted over the bed and crouched down next to Remus. There was blood soaking his shirt.

“Remus, fuck. Why’d you do that?” Janus hissed. He gathered Remus up into his arms and tried to put pressure on the wound. Remus gazed up at him with glassy eyes.

“I promised,” he said weakly. Janus looked down at him.

“What did you promise?” he asked, probably sounding a little hysterical. Remus gave him a gentle smile.

“I promised they’d never touch you again.”

A neighbor had heard the gunshot and called the police, which was just as well, because Janus had no idea how to work Remus’ phone. The police had come and whisked Remus off to the hospital in an ambulance. Virgil came to take Janus back to the agency so that he wouldn’t be left alone in what had now become a crime scene. Janus made sure to bring his pale yellow blanket, the first one Remus had given him.

The investigation that followed revealed the intruders to be the extra names Logan had been searching for, and had returned to try and reclaim Janus before leaving town. With this, Logan could finally put the case to rest.

Remus was fine. When Janus was finally allowed to see him a few days later, he had just grinned and said, “Still not as bad as that time Virgil hit me with his truck.” Janus was not amused.

With the investigation closed, the agency could release Janus to be evaluated. Everyone gathered in Logan’s office to wait anxiously.

“He’s gonna be fine,” Roman said in what was probably supposed to be a reassuring tone. It did nothing to soothe Remus’ frayed nerves.

“Yeah, but what if something goes wrong, like they spook him or something-”

“If he can tolerate Princey randomly belting out Disney songs, he can tolerate anything,” Virgil scoffed. Roman glared. Patton stifled a giggle. Remus opened his mouth to reply, but in that moment, the door opened. Logan stepped into the office- behind him came Janus.

“...Well?” Remus asked impatiently. His eyes were fixed on Janus.

Janus glanced toward Logan. Logan gave a slight nod, and a smile spread across Janus’ face.

“I’m free to go.”

Remus sprang up and engulfed Janus in a hug. Janus clung to him tightly, and his tears of joy soaked Remus’ chest.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Misread Details, Part One

CW: Death talk, BBU, dehumanizing language about Box Boys

A Box Boy Serial Killer On the Loose? Part 1 of 3

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee 1 month ago

Hello, r/LetsTalkTrueCrime!

I’ve posted this write-up in a couple other reddits, but someone pointed me to this one as being a good place for discussion, and this is a really weird set of three unsolved murders (well, one death and two murders? Maybe?) and I wanted to see if any of you have some thoughts or maybe more info on these cases.

Three men died within two years in three different cities.

While each death is unique, all of them have one thing in common - fingerprints and DNA from a single human pet was found in every single location.

Let’s start with the first death.

Nathaniel Matthew Benson, who went by “Nanda” (a childhood nickname given to him by a younger brother who couldn’t pronounce his full name as a toddler, apparently), was forty-one years old at the time of his death.

He was born and raised in North Dakota by very strict religious parents, and had three younger brothers and one younger sister. There is some disagreement here about whether his home life was peaceful or not. His younger sister claims that the environment at home was strict but fair, and the family was mostly happy. Two of his three younger brothers tell a different story, about a father who put too much on their shoulders, especially “Nanda” as the eldest, and the pressure they felt to be perfect.

His other brother, the youngest of the family, has never given a public interview beyond a short statement that he and Nanda were not close, and he did not feel able to speak about his character. There were nearly fifteen years between the oldest and youngest childrens’ births, and Nathaniel had moved out of the house by the time the youngest was four years old, so this makes sense.

By all accounts, Nathaniel was an excellent student, getting all A’s throughout his years of education. He was considered quiet and shy, and most of his high school classmates don’t have many standout memories of him. He graduated valedictorian of his high school class, then surprised everyone by stating he wouldn’t be attending college, and instead would be taking a “gap year” to travel the United States using money from his graduation party and also some he’d saved up from working part-time retail and restaurant jobs.

Between ages 18 and 19, he took his small secondhand four-door vehicle around the nation, calling home every week or so to give his family updates, sending postcards, etc. After about six months, though, the phone calls and postcards became fewer and fewer, and eventually he told everyone he had gotten a new job and decided to forgo college entirely.

His family was shocked - and by all accounts his father was furious - but Nathaniel refused to budge.

There was apparently a very hostile phone conversation about one year after this decision which was the last time Nathaniel Benson spoke to his father directly until his death.

After this, his family received only sporadic communications sent from a P.O. Box located in central California, in a mid-sized city known as Dosaba. He never did give anyone an actual home address.

He occasionally called them, mostly his sister and one of his brothers, but surviving family states that the phone number he called from was different every single time, and usually didn’t have a California area code.

“He used burner phones for everything,” Nathaniel’s sister Samantha told WNDR, a local news station, shortly after his mysterious death. “And he would never tell us what job he did. We asked and asked and Nanda would just say ‘oh, this and that’, or ‘I do contractor work’. Just answers that don’t tell you anything. It was all very mysterious, very secretive. You know, we talked about how maybe he’d gotten into drugs or something, but my brother wasn’t a drug user, ever. It just seems so out of character for the brother I knew.”

“He was always reading his Bible when we knew him,” Younger brother Timothy stated. “But you know, I asked him once if he had found a home church wherever he was living, and he laughed and laughed. Then he just said, ‘they’d have a lot of opinions on how I live my life if I did that’, and changed the subject. So I knew whatever he was doing, it probably wasn’t good.”

There has been a lot of speculation by investigators that “Nanda” had indeed picked up employment within some kind of drug smuggling group at this time. Evidence found after his death has even opened the possibility that he worked as a high-end hitman.

There’s a lot of international travel during this time period, far more than can be accounted for unless travel was part of his workplace responsibilities. Employment records show him working as a sales manager for a company called Sunrise Investments, but this is believed by many to be a shell corporation hiding something much, much darker.

However, all of this remains speculative, and there’s never been any proof that Nathaniel Benson did anything but the financial sales the company claims. No one ever did much work with him, and other employees at the company stated contact with him occurred entirely by phone and fax (and then e-mail) at this time.

When investigators pored over the documents after getting a warrant, they weren’t able to find anything suspicious - and that in and of itself seems suspicious to some.

For years, Benson seemed to simply drop off the map entirely when it comes to local information - investigators did find that he owned a vintage Corvette that he fixed up himself (found via vehicle registry and taxes listings, which is public knowledge), and that about two years before his death he bought a large five-bedroom house with a basement in Dosaba, which he renovated in total secrecy. I was able to find records of him paying home taxes through his mortgage company, and that he spoke to local contractors and building companies, paying for consultations about the renovations he undertook.

None of the companies he spoke to kept any kind of detailed notes about these consultations, but you’ll see why it’s relevant when I discuss what was found after his death.

Nathaniel Benson’s life came to an abrupt end on August 16th, 20XX, but nobody would find his body for more than two days.

On August 18th, his cleaning lady arrived for her usual weekly visit to discover him crumpled at the foot of the stairs, face-up. She called 911 immediately and first responders arrived within twenty minutes to her white-faced and nearly silent.

First responders noted that Nathaniel’s eyes were closed, unusual for a violent death. A wet cloth had been laid over them to help them stay that way. The medical examiner stated later that this would have to have been done within the first hour after he died, before rigor mortis could stiffen muscles and lead to them opening again.

That whoever witnessed his death knew to do this is deeply unusual, and may be a sign of affection or grief.

The autopsy found that Nathaniel had met his end approximately 36 hours before he was found, and had died due to an undiagnosed heart defect that had resulted in cardiac arrest.

Sounds like any sudden death that can simply be written off as sad but natural, right? Well, there’s a few details that make things a little murkier than that, and have led to his death being listed as “undetermined” officially, and possibly including foul play.

For one thing, Nathaniel hadn’t simply collapsed next to the stairs - he had fallen, or been pushed, and showed evidence of bone fractures and head trauma consistent with the fall. A bit of blood was found on one step that came from his injuries. This head trauma would likely not have been fatal if he had received medical attention, but cardiac arrest ensured death even if head trauma didn’t.

Did Nathaniel Benson suffer a heart attack and fall down the stairs, dying only when he reached the bottom? Maybe.

Or maybe he really was pushed, the shock of it is the reason he went into cardiac arrest.

There’s one more unusual fact that makes foul play a possibility in this mysterious death.

Nathaniel Benson owned a legally purchased Box Boy, no known legal name, who went by his original purchase number: 334235. The Box Boy was a Romantic designation, and was purchased from Facility 001 in Berras, a city in Southern California, where the WRU headquarters is located.

WRU, when contacted by investigators, easily agreed to meet and provide detectives with information regarding the Box Boy’s purchase, as well as the DNA and fingerprint samples the company keeps on file.

According to WRU’s internal records, this Boxie was not only a designated Romantic, but a specialty Romantic, trained for ‘masochism’. This tracks with multiple books on, shall we say, somewhat salacious interests that Benson had for his love life.

As Benson never seemed to date anyone or maintain a relationship, it’s theorized that the Boxie was his way of dealing with the stress of his work. WRU noted that Benson had contacted them after the purchase was complete to give his compliments on the Boxie’s training and note that he was ‘perfect’ and they ‘got along just fine’.

The Box Boy’s fingerprints were found all over the house, which is totally normal. He was living there full-time, after all. But investigators also located something a bit more unusual: a secret room within the home that the cleaning lady had never seen before, hidden behind a carefully camouflaged door.

This is what Benson had been working on when he ‘renovated’ his newly purchased home: He built a secret dungeon room with stone walls and a concrete floor, outfitted with a dip and a “drain”, plus a garden hose hooked up on one wall.

The room also had rows upon rows of cabinets full of various tools consistent with a ‘hard BDSM lifestyle’, according to one detective. I wasn’t able to get ahold of the actual list of items found, but was able to determine that whips, knives, ‘unspecified implements purchased from adult stores’, and other things were found.

Tests done on the walls and floor showed that blood had been spilled nearly everywhere in the room at one time or another, and large amounts of it. There was also evidence of blood found in Nathaniel Benson’s bedroom, primarily on the floor and in the bed. A small faded stain was found on the headboard just below a set of cuffs hooked into it.

A few small dried bloodstains were also found around the master bathroom sink, and investigators were able to determine the blood matched the DNA of the Box Boy, and was left there much more recently than the rest of the blood in the house, possibly even on the day of Benson’s death.

Here’s the thing, though: the Box Boy himself was nowhere to be found.

Was this Box Boy tired of being used as a human pincushion? Did he take matters into his own hands and commit the ultimate crime a pet can do, killing his owner? If he did, he no doubt knew what happens to pets who kill their owners, usually either being ‘put down’ or wiped clean to be resold.

Is our Boxie a killer right from the start? Or was he only a witness to a natural death who panicked and ran away?

Without locating the Boxie himself, it’s impossible to know.

The cleaning lady remembered him, and gave a description: Somewhere between 5’8” and 5’11”, wiry but with some muscle, usually dressed in just a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt when she was in the house. He has short dark hair, brown eyes, and an angular face. She mentioned visible scars on his arms, but none on his face. She was told to call him only “pet” if she needed to speak to him. She stated his voice was slightly hoarse and rough, as if he had a sore throat all the time.

They had only one significant interaction, where the cleaning lady inquired about a large bruise on the Boxie’s face and bandages on his arms. He apparently told her, at the time, that he ‘liked the reminer’, but thanked her for asking after his health. They never spoke directly again.

The detail about his face being unscarred will become incredibly relevant in parts 2 and 3.

Neighbors, when asked, mentioned that they had seen someone matching that description walking away from the house somewhere around 4 and 5 pm on August 16th. The medical examiner believes Benson died around noon, so this leaves about four or five hours between the death and the Boxie leaving.

He appeared to be walking very quickly and one neighbor noticed he was holding what looked like crumpled cash in one hand and a plastic shopping bag in another.

He was spotted waiting at a nearby bus stop, and footage from a camera mounted inside the bus shows someone matching the Box Boy’s description riding the bus all the way into Dosaba’s historic, artsy downtown. There, he was again captured on CCTV purchasing a one-way train ticket with cash. The train station employee who sold him the ticket remembers offering him a round-trip ticket for a discount, which she always did anyone who asked for a ticket to another city, only to have him “nervously” say he wouldn’t need to come back. She mentioned that he scratched at the side of his neck, and that when he walked away, he looked like his shoes were a little too big for his feet.

It is believed, as Nathaniel Benson was found barefoot but wearing clothing that suggested he had been outside doing yard work just before his death, that the Box Boy stole his shoes.

The fleeing Box Boy is captured one more time on camera as he arrived at his destination, Red Hills, approximately a two-hour train ride to the south. He walks past the CCTV quickly, hunched over as if trying to hide his face.

After that, he disappears.

Red Hills is a significantly larger city than Dosaba, with nearly a million residents within city limits and another 600,000 filling its suburbs and outer neighborhoods. Red Hills is a city that has seen better days, and it would be easy for a runaway Box Boy to simply fade away into its seedier districts. While Red Hills has had more than a dozen runaway Boxies picked up over the years, mostly Romantics who engaged in prostitution to make ends meet, it’s not believed that Benson’s Box Boy knew this when he chose the location.

As Romantic Boxies usually can’t read, it’s believed he simply chose a location he’d overheard someone else say, knowing nothing about what he would find when he got there.

Two days after his death, Nathaniel Benson’s debit and credit cards, Driver’s License, and a folded-up note he had written to himself about buying toothpaste were found in a plastic shopping bag tied-off at the top, were found inside the bus the Boxie had ridden, stuffed between the edge of a seat and the wall. The Boxie’s fingerprints were on everything.

But the Boxie himself wouldn’t be seen again until more than a year later.

Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson’s death for a time remained a one-off unsolved mystery. A little on the unusual side, but entirely possible that no foul play occurred, just some details that need filling in.

The shocking murder of a Red Hills man known locally as “Brute” would bring this Box Boy back into law enforcement’s line of sight, and open up questions about whether the Box Boy had simply been running away from Nathaniel Benson’s death… or leaving to find a new victim.

I’ll post Part 2, about “Brute”, shortly! Then Part 3 will be about a third murder, in which our potential Box Boy serial killer takes out… another serial killer.

I told you this one gets interesting.

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @outofangband @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @endless-whump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whumpiary

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silhouetteofacedar · 3 years

Text

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 12: Capsaicin

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Maybe he wrote her address wrong.

The odds of that happening are pretty damn slim; Mulder’s had it down by heart for years, but he’s grasping at all possibilities right now.

He had sent the letter through the postal service in an attempt to keep himself from stressing out over its delivery, but that plan backfired the minute the envelope left his hands.

He dropped it in the mail on Saturday evening. It’s now Wednesday, and Scully has made no mention of it. There’s been no indication in her demeanor at all to suggest that she’d received any revelatory mail-pieces.

He might live the rest of his life in this horrific limbo, a purgatory of his own construction. He’s been on pins and needles all week, filling the basement office with nervous energy, furtively glancing at Scully in attempts to read her facial expressions. Did she get the letter and throw it out? How is she so calm? Maybe it got stuck in one of the sorting machines…

Before he knows it, Scully’s bidding him a friendly “goodnight” and shutting the office door.

Say what you will about anxiety, but it sure spices up the workday.

Mulder drives home in a fog; he’s exhausted from the mental exertion of thinking in circles and jumping to conclusions. Inside his apartment he flops down on the sofa and calls for takeout from the Thai place down the street that has his order memorized.

The next time he confesses his undying love to somebody, he’s going to use e-mail.

A knock on his door shakes him from his reverie.

“How much do I owe-” he begins as he opens the door, then freezes.

Scully is standing at his doorstep, a high flush on her cheeks. She looks somehow startled, as though he surprised her by opening his own front door.

“Scully,” he says, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Mulder,” she replies, voice cracking on the edges. Her big blue eyes are full, ready to spill over her lower lids.

Oh.

“You read it,” he says softly. He feels his chest tighten into a tight knot of anxiety, and he swallows hard.

She nods. “Can I- I need to come in.”

He stands aside, ushers her into his living room.

She’s vibrating with nervous energy. Mulder motions to the couch. “Would you, uh, like to sit down?”

“I’d prefer to stand, thank you,” she says, voice tight. She grips her elbows.

“Well, I guess I’ll sit,” Mulder says softly, lowering himself to the couch. “Scully, I-“

She holds out a hand. “You got to say your piece, Mulder, now it’s time for mine.” Her lower lip crumples slightly, and he wants to get up and hug her.

She takes a deep breath, pulling herself together. “Mulder, when I received your letter today…” She blinks back tears. “I was completely overwhelmed. I’m not even sure how I managed to drive here,” she admits. “And I appreciate that in it you acknowledged the inopportune timing of your confession. Things just keep piling up,” she says. “But now I just want to know, need to know… why the hell did you wait so long?”

There’s pain in her voice, and he aches in return.

“I didn’t know how you felt,” he says simply, “and then Mark happened.” It’s so insufficient, but it’s all he has.

“I wish you’d told me before,” she says. “I wish I’d known. I dragged you into this mess with him, and the whole time you… you felt that for me.”

“Scully,” he says slowly, “If I had told you I loved you, would you have still gone out with Mark?”

She doesn’t answer right away, and his heart falls into his stomach.

“How can you ask me that?” she says, voice a rough whisper. “What do you want me to say?”

Say no. Please. “I’m only interested in the truth, Scully. You of all people know that by now.”

A tear spills down her cheek, and she wipes it away roughly. “I… I don’t know. Do you have any idea how long and hard I worked to not feel? I’d wake up every damn morning thinking about you. I’d scrub myself raw in the shower so you couldn’t smell me, sense how much I wanted you all fucking night. I’d come to work and turn my heart off, bury my feelings so deep that even now I can barely scratch the surface of them. I did it for years, Mulder.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “So when my mother introduced me to a nice man with a little girl, I decided to go for it. And I almost forget how to really feel something. But you… you never let me forget. And the rational choices cease to make sense.” She sniffs noisily. “You turned my entire world upside down.”

He hangs his head. “I’m sorry-” he begins.

“No,” Scully interrupts. “No, Mulder. I don’t want your guilt, or your pity; I don’t need it. I want you, and me. I want us to be the two broken people we are, healing. We can’t keep hurting each other with misguided attempts to protect each other.”

“What do you mean, then? How do we stop?”

“By being honest,” she says, coming around the coffee table and perching on the edge of the couch. “We start here. Right now.”

“I-I don’t know how much more clear or honest I could possible be,” Mulder stammers. “The letter spelled it out. My cards are on the table.”

“They are,” she agrees, “But you wrote under the assumption that I wouldn’t reciprocate. You left no room for alternatives.”

“Alternatives being…”

Scully’s eyes are pleading. “Mulder,” she whispers, beseeching.

There’s a knock on the door.

Mulder glances over his shoulder, startled out of their moment. “I ordered Thai,” he explains. “If you’re here, then that must be the delivery guy,” he says.

Scully nods. “Likely.” She gets up from the sofa and crosses to the desk, fetching the tissue box there. “You should-”

“Answer the door, yeah,” Mulder agrees absently, standing and feeling his pockets for his wallet.

The bored teenager on the other side of the door holds the bag out. “Sixteen forty-nine,” he says.

“Give him a twenty,” Scully instructs from the living room, blowing her nose.

Mulder digs a bill out of his wallet and hands it to the delivery guy. “You and the Mrs have a good night,” the boy says, stifling a yawn as he shoves the money into the pack on his waist.

“That tip was what, twenty-five percent?” Mulder grouses, setting the bag on the coffee table.

“Oh, so you can do math,” Scully says, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “So what’s your excuse for being a lousy tipper, then?”

“Spoken like a former waitress,” Mulder mumbles.

“You’re goddamn right,” Scully says. “Best IHOP server in San Diego.”

Her bravado contrasts sharply with her puffy eyes and watery voice, and Mulder wants to pull her into his arms and never let go.

“You want any of this?” he asks, pulling steaming cartons out of the bag. “There’s plenty for both of us, and if you don’t eat I’ll feel like a crappy host.”

She sits back down on the couch, setting the tissue box on the coffee table. “If you don’t mind sharing,” she concedes.

“I’ll grab you a fork,” he replies, giving her knee a squeeze.

They eat quietly, passing cartons between them, migrating together until they’re shoulder to shoulder in the center of the couch.

“So,” Mulder says, “Before the food got here, we were talking about something pretty important.”

Scully nods, turning her fork to wind noodles around the tines. “That we were,” she agrees.

“About honesty,” he prompts. “Alternatives.”

Scully sets her fork down, closes her eyes. “This… this is difficult for me, Mulder. It’s surreal; I didn’t expect this outcome for us. For you to… to feel the way you do,” she clarifies.

“On the contrary,” Mulder says, “I feel like this was always going to happen, from the day we met. Somewhere deep in my mind I knew I was going to fall in love with you.”

Scully looks at him then, eyes wide.

“Th-that’s the first time I’ve said that aloud,” he says in realization, eyes not leaving hers.

Scully nods. “How’d it feel?” she asks softly.

Mulder licks his lip. “Kinda depends on how it felt for you,” he responds, voice low.

She takes a deep breath. “Call me crazy, but I think I need to hear it again.”

He nods, then on impulse leans in until his mouth is next to her ear, strands of coppery hair tickling his cheek. “I’m in love with you,” he murmurs.

Scully reflexively grips the edge of the couch cushion. “Don’t,” she warns, voice husky and breathier than he expected. “I’m not ready.”

He draws back. “Ready for what?” he asks.

She smoothes her hair behind her ear. “You,” she says simply, looking him up and down out of the corner of her eye. She picks up her fork and takes another bite of noodles. “I’ve spent so long in denial, Mulder, I feel… flammable. Like the smallest spark could just…” she motions to herself. “Destroy my equilibrium, or something.”

“Is this the official medical terminology? Because I’m not familiar,” he quips.

She huffs a laugh. “No, Mulder. What I’m trying to say is that I think we should go slow. Whatever ‘going’ means, in this case.”

“But we are a we,” he clarifies.

“Yes, I think we are,” Scully says tenderly, facing him again. “I… I want to be. But I’m processing things, so I need you to give me time.”

You can have my whole life. “That’s fine by me,” he assures her. “So you think we have a spark, Scully?”

She licks her upper lip, nodding. “Oh yes,” she says, eyes flicking down to his mouth. “Yes, we do.”

He leans back into the couch cushions. “Well then,” he says, eyeing her lazily, “When you feel like starting some fires… I’m your boy.”

#my fic #msr #txf fic #xfiles #fox mulder closet romantic #fmcr #it’s gettin SPICY yall #heheheheheheh #I made myself sweat with this one tbh

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where-dreamers-go · 3 years

Text

“Game On” Riley Poole x Reader

(A/N: SURPRISE! A prequel to the Riley Poole x Reader Series! It’s a surprise for me too. Welcome to Ben Gates’ circle of friends prior to going to the Arctic Circle to find The Charlotte. This can be read without having read the series that goes through the movie National Treasure. Written for @girl-next-door-writes Bingo challenge! Bingo Card: Mutual Pining Warnings: Poker game. Word Count: 2,472 words)

Strategy. Confidence. Restraint. Three words perfectly fit the poker game on Ben’s dining table. Ever since your best friend had met Ian Howe, a man who believed in the Templar treasure and had pockets of money, the group of you had played poker on weekends. Not every weekend of course. There were only so many rounds of bets you were willing to have. Even if this time you brought cookies for a snack.

Although in truth, you had been playing more for a few months and sitting through more games than otherwise willing. Why? An incredibly intelligent, funny, and handsome man who was officially a part of Ben’s circle of friends.

Riley Poole. Thank the Universe that you helped Ben with his computer, you thought as you stole a glance to your right. Didn’t think I’d be having this much fun.

Sitting in your best friends’ apartment was a greater comfort than Ian’s home. Sure, you’d known the man for more than a year, but Ben had been your friend since you were in school. Around a decade of friendship meant you knew him. You knew him well.

“Ben,” you said calmly.

“Hmm?”

“You’re bluffing again.”

Ben’s eyebrows raised a fraction before speaking. “I fold.”

In only a moment, Ian chuckled.

“You might not be the best player,” Ian told you. “But you can read Ben like a book.” His chuckling doubled as Ben made a face.

“Maybe we should return (Y/N)’s library card.” Ben suggested with a smirk.

You scrunched up your face in disapproval.

“Yeah, but they can still buy books and stay in a library to read them.” Riley piped in.

You sent Riley a smile and pushed a box of crackers closer to him.

“Alright,” Ian spoke up. “Can either of you beat a Four of a Kind? Riley?”

Biting into a cracker, Riley shook his head and laid his cards down. “I fold.”

“(Y/N)?”

“No,” you grumbled. “I fold.” Reluctantly, you set your cards down.

He’s gonna start prancing his way out by the time we’re done.

Shoulders back and a smug grin on his face, Ian revealed his cards. A three, a nine, a queen, and a king.

“What?” Riley exclaimed.

You dropped your forehead to the table.

Not again.

“They’re not even the same suit. You lied.”

“I win again.” Ian stated as the poker chips could be heard being pulled to his side of the table.

“Next time we’re playing Mario Party,” you groaned as you picked your head up off of the table.

“I am not playing that.”

“Afraid you’ll lose?” You countered.

“No. I simply don’t want to play.”

You made a short sound of acknowledgement in your throat.

“You have a Nintendo 64?” Riley asked as everyone tossed their cards to the middle so that Ben could take his turn to shuffle and deal.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you had one. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You never asked.”

“How was I suppose to know to ask if you had one?”

“Conversation?”

“Save the bickering for the game, shall we?” Ian interrupted without glancing up.

You gave the man a pointed look.

It was times like those that you weren’t entirely sure if he was playing along or actually annoyed. There were times when you honestly could not tell.

Worse case scenario, he’s always annoyed with me and Riley talking. He’s usually not this way when it’s just me and Ben.

Having finished shuffling the deck, Ben dealt the cards out to each of you.

“As a head’s up, this is my last game.” You said after checking the time.

“You’re not working overtime again, are you?” Ben asked.

“No.”

“(Y/N)…”

“I have to double check an e-mail and double check a few things. Respond to a few more e-mails. Stuff.”

“That’s working.” Riley said.

“I know. I know.”

“At least you’re making sure everything is done properly. Some times that’s hard to find in some people.” Ian added.

“Thank you.” You reached for a cookie and—

Crunch

You peered over to your right and saw Riley’s eyebrows knitted together as he ate another cracker. His eyes were trained just above his cards.

That was a little louder than normal, you thought as you ate the cookie. Mentally shrugging, you checked out your cards. Oh, okay. Not bad so far. Hmm.

“Any chance next time we could play Twenty-One?” You asked.

“Blackjack?” Riley nabbed a cookie.

“Yeah. Though if Ben says ‘no’ he indirectly admits his many defeats.”

“Hey. That’s a game of chance.” Ben pointed a finger at you.

“And strategy.” You added.

“It is older than Poker.” Ian said as he waited for Ben to add more cards to the table.

Ben eyed his own cards. “You know,” he started. “Playing cards were actually invented before 1000AD by the Chinese. The cards didn’t have numbers…”

Turning your head to the right, you caught Riley’s eyes. You gave each other knowing looks as Ben continued giving facts. That could mean two things: Ben was confident or he had a pretty good hand of cards. If Ian had picked up on that through the many games, neither you nor Riley knew. However, you were willing to play more logically to win.

Game on, Ben.

Riley slid the box of crackers closer to you. The box was moved just enough that when you leaned back, Riley subtly tilted his cards.

You had a better cards. You took two crackers and gave one to Riley. He returned his sights back to the center of the table with a nod.

Now to figure out Ian and Ben. Can’t always let one of them win.

“Riley.” Ben said.

“Hm? What?”

“Your turn.”

“Oh, right.”

You reached for more crackers to munch on as the four of you continued playing. Looking up for only a second, you saw Ben smiling and his smile only widened when he caught your eye. You raised an eyebrow in question. He glanced over to Riley then back at you. Acting on immediate reaction, you tossed a cracker at your best friend’s chest. Unfortunately he didn’t drop any of his cards so that you could see them.

Stop it, you thought. Too bad we don’t have telepathy. Then again, that could backfire with comments, but we could team up during poker. Also would save money on the phone bill. Hmph.

With more cards in your hands, your chances of winning were dwindling. It was not a big deal. But you really wanted to win.

Darn it.

“(Y/N), I hope you’re better at bluffing than giving instructions over e-mail.” Riley said, catching you off guard.

“Wha—Hey.” You pulled your cards closer to yourself. “It’s not my fault they don’t know what the icons mean.”

“You should have explained that first.”

“I’m not Internet one oh one.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Can we get back to the game?”

Hiding your smile as you ducked your head, you muttered, “We already went over this.”

“Bluff.” Riley murmured.

Ben cleared his throat and said, “Your turn, Riley.”

That e-mail was likely not going to be easily forgotten. Then again, it did remind you that a specific e-mail, from the same co-worker, had finally been sent to you earlier in the day.

Could have had it done last week.

A couple of days ago, you had given Riley a personal museum tour and treated him to lunch in exchange for helping you type up an e-mail explaining how to send a document as an attachment to a co-worker. It wasn’t that you didn’t know how to send the e-mail. It was that you didn’t know how to explain it for the third time. Or rather how to explain it in a way that the co-worker would understand the instructions given.

The game went on for another ten minutes until Ian and Riley were at a showdown. Ben and yourself had folded, knowing you were both beaten.

“Alright, show your hand.” Ian said confidently.

Both men turned their cards face up. A Three of a Kind versus a Flush. Riley won the game.

“Aaaay!” You patted Riley’s arm repeatedly for more than a moment.

Riley shuffled a bit in his seat before sitting a little taller.

“Good game.” Ian pushed his cards away.

“Good job, Riley.” Ben congratulated his friend.

Pulling the chips to his side, Riley grinned. Victory was sweet at times.

“Hey, sorry to cut this short, but I have to get going.” You stood from your seat and grabbed your plastic container of cookies to seal them.

Can snack on the cookies later, you thought as you smoothly placed one in front of Riley. He won. Prize given.

You pushed in your chair.

“I-uh better go too,” Riley said. “I don’t know how traffic is going to be. It’s dark.”

“Okay, Riley,” Ben replied. “Don’t forget your jacket.”

“Thanks.”

You walked passed Ian, saying, “Any chance you can teach Ben to bluff?”

“Not something you can teach.” Ian answered as he gathered up the cards.

“I don’t need to bluff to win.” Ben added in as he lead you and Riley to the door. Always the nice host.

“Bye Ian,” you waved.

“I’ll see you two later.” Riley said.

“Drive safely.” Ben patted his friend on the shoulder.

“Don’t stay up too late, Ben,” you teased as you walked out the door.

“Bye, (Y/N).” He laughed. Behind you, Ben had shut the door as Riley followed you out.

Two steps away from the door and Riley walked up beside you.

“I can’t believe how many times Ian bluffed.” Riley said. “He must have taken almost half of the chips.”

“I’d say I’m surprised, but I’m not.”

He nodded. Many thoughts running through his head no doubt.

“You didn’t do so bad today,” you added.

“I could have been better. I just can’t tell when Ian’s lying or confident or confident in his lying.”

“There’s little difference.” You murmured as you two reached your apartment’s door. Stopping for a moment, you considered your next words.

Eh. Do it.

“Remember that e-mail you helped me with?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you like to see what they e-mailed me back?”

“How bad is it?” His shoulders slumped.

“What makes you think it’s bad?”

“Because you’re asking if I want to see it and you’re already laughing.”

Oh, I guess I am. You thought as your grin widened.

“You’re right. It’s pretty bad. In a really weird way.”

“Great,” he said sarcastically. A small smile edged its way onto his face. “Let me see it.”

Turning, you quickly grabbed your key and unlocked the front door. Once you pushed it open, you let Riley inside.

“Just give me a second to grab my computer.” You said.

Front door shut and cookies placed on a flat surface, you fast-walked to another room to grab your laptop.

It was not the first time Riley had been in your apartment. It was not even the only time he had been in your home without Ben present. As it turned out, you had made friends with Riley almost as fast as Ben did. There was something that just clicked. Similar interests, shared knowledge, and good old companionship that was refreshing.

Walking out of your room, you spotted Riley sitting on your couch with his glasses on. Your laptop was already up and loading your e-mails.

“Ready?” You asked.

“They didn’t put any attachments, did they?” Riley watched as you placed the computer on the coffee table.

“You’ll have to see.” You sat beside him.

A couple of clicks and you had opened the message from your inbox.

“Hey. There’s actual attachments,” Riley observed as he scrolled to the bottom of the e-mail. “Uh. Um. Were they only suppose to send you the documents?”

“Yeah.” You nodded and bit back a grin. “Click on that one.”

He clicked on the one that had caught his eye.

A large picture of a large cat lounging on an armchair filled up a part of the screen.

“Holy Lord.” Riley looked to you. “Please tell me not all of these are cats.”

“Just two cats.”

Riley groaned.

“I got the other ones they needed to send. Thankfully. I’ve been needing these possible layouts for the next exhibition for a week now.”

“We’re going to have to teach them how to remove an attachment before sending an e-mail now.”

It was your time to groan.

“You don’t want them sending Lord knows what else next time, do you?”

“No.” You sighed. “But…that means I have to mention the cats.”

The moment Riley made eye contact with you, you both started bursted out laughing.

Out of all things to send you, they sent you pictures of cats. Perhaps you should be thankful it was not anything else. Who knew at that point? The question at hand was how to word your next e-mail? It was suppose to be a follow-up message about which layout of the museum space was better not another how-to.

“I’m getting paid to say, ‘delete your cat photos…from the e-mail’.” You wheezed. Trying to breath between laughing and speaking was challenging.

“Maybe….maybe send two e-mails?” Riley’s grin was still present. “One for work and one for clicking the small ‘x’.”

“Yeah, but at this point you should be charging them for tech support.”

“Put that in your next e-mail.”

You bumped his arm with your own.

“Just saying.”

“If they ask for more help I’ll let them know. How’s that?”

“I’ll get the documents ready.”

You covered your mouth as loud laugh escaped you.

Oh goodness. I hope he’ll do it anyway.

Smile only partially fading, Riley gestured to the laptop. “Let me know if their lack of technology skills makes your instruction skills disappear again. But not on your day off.” He removed his glasses and stood up.

You followed suit and walked him to the door.

“You really shouldn’t put in more hours than they’re paying you.”

“I want the new exhibition to be perfect.” You added as you leaned against the opened door. “But you’re right.”

“Can’t work for nothing. Especially when you’re suddenly working free tech support.” He stood out in the hallway.

“Hey,” you said. “Thanks for hanging out today. It was really fun.”

A smile returned to his lips. “I had fun too.”

“Drive safely, alright?”

“I will. See you later.”

“See yah, Riley.” You waved before finally shutting the door. With a lopsided grin, you locked the door and skipped over towards the cookies. Perhaps your winnings will be more than chips won in a poker game some day. Maybe something a little more meaningful.

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Riley Poole Tags: @darkenwolfy @wesleeporstudy @yearning-warmth

Riley Poole series Tags (Would you like to be added to Riley Poole Tags?): @imacuteprincess @gingerlaserbeam @sledgy14 @thecaptainsgingersnap

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

#Riley Poole #Riley Poole x Reader #Girl Next Door's Make Me Feel Bingo #National Treasure fanfiction #Riley Poole imagines #where dreamers go #national treasure #Ben Gates #Ian Howe

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historic-old-guard-lover · 4 years

Note

Historically Booker’s native language would be Occitan and not French . He would also probably deeply resent standard / Parisian French since the government did their damnest to erase regional languages and still do it today .

Agreed! There was another post about this, but since I got an ask (I love you, anon) I’ll elaborate. Buckle up for a primer on the evolution of the French language with a brief aside for troubadours, traveling musician-poets you wish were still a career option. No, being a rock star is not quite the same.

In the early medieval period (as early as ~900CE), the country we now call France had a language divide between the northern and southern regions. In the north, they spoke langues d'oïl which is what eventually became modern standard French. In the south, they spoke Occitan or lenga d'òc and a modern form of this language is known as Provençal. Looking at the regional sub-dialects, the more northern Occitan begins to sound like a langue d’oil and the more southern dialects begin to sound like Spanish.

As I touched upon in a previous post, this is because they all share similar roots as a romance language. Even though modern standard French is a langue d’oil, occitan managed to sneak a few things into the language. If you’ve learned French as a second language, you’ll know that when you respond yes (oui) to a negative question (you don’t like cheese? / tu n’aimes pas le fromage?) that you use a different yes (si). This is a skeleton of Occitan!

The why of the invention of “standard French” is, as most “standard” things are, a detour into nationalism. In 1635, Cardinal Richelieu (under Louis XIII) founded the Académie Française (French Academy) which was tasked with standardizing the French language so that it could be exported to the rest of Europe and used to gain further prestige of the role of French philosophers during the Enlightenment. During the French Revolution, it was disregarded, but Napoleon Bonaparte restored it as part of the Institut de France (Institute of France) in 1803. To this day, the Académie is tasked with publishing the French dictionary and inventing new words for things such as “e-mails” so that the French needn’t stoop to using English loan-words.

Another part of this was the Toubon Law (August 1994) which required French (the standard French from the Académie) to be used in all official documents and advertising. It required all advertising to use French and even set a certain percentage of music on the radio that must be French. This law was literally the government going “let’s make the French french again.” If a school doesn’t instruct in French (modern, standard French of course), then they can’t receive government funds. The only exception is Breton-language schools (Breton is as north as it gets and is a langue d’oil so it still helps crush Occitan).

Since the previous paragraph probably made you mad as heck, let me give you some irony to laugh at: some French people refer to this as the loi Allgood (“law” Allgood). To explain this joke, it helps to know that Toubon is the last name of the Minister of Culture at the time the law was passed. If you break down his last name, it sounds like “tout bon” in French which translates to “all good.” People took this law saying make everything French, goddammit and replied, sure thing Minister All-Good. I love it.

Now, for the troubadours! I learned standard modern French in high school, but at university I came across Occitan because of those romantic poets. I’ll put this aside below the break so you can continue on with your day if for some reason you’re not interested in medieval French rock star-poets...

Let me begin by quoting the Wikipedia definition:

A troubadour was a composer and performer of Old Occitan lyric poetry during the High Middle Ages (1100–1350). Since the word troubadour is etymologically masculine, a female troubadour is usually called a trobairitz.

Right away you may notice a few things: 1) they wrote and sang in Occitan; 2) it was an equal-opportunity field (though it was rare for a woman to be one). The first Troubadours were mostly noblemen, but later ones could come from any social class. Yes, you read that correctly: egalitarian travelling poets! If that doesn’t sell you on these performers, I don’t know what will. The troubadours spread their tradition throughout Europe and the only thing that could stop them was the Black Plague.

As you’d expect, they mostly sang about love. A lot of their poems were about courtly love and chivalry, but they could also get bawdy. The especially good performers would be sought after by courts like famous painters. Troubadours are essentially the apex bards: romantic, witty, charming, talented, and able to make serious bank.

To finish this, I will leave you with one of the bawdiest troubadour poems I know of, Farai un vers, pos mi somelh (The Ladies with the Cat) by Guillem de Peiteus. It’s essentially the story of a dude who has sex with these women who pick up a knight on a pilgrimage (though it plays with reality and this guy’s fantasies). I’ll include it in the original Occitan, and then a translation by Robert Kehew (I believe), verse-by-verse. Forgive me for my commentary in between, but I just want you to understand how freaking clever this poem is!

Farei un vers, pos mi somelh Em vauc e m’estauc al solelh. Domnas i a de mal conselh, E sai dir cals: Cellas c’amor de cavalier Tornon a mals.

While sound asleep I’ll walk along In sunshine, making up my song. Some ladies get the rules all wrong; I’ll tell you who: The ones that turn a knight’s love down And scorn it, too.

The singer is establishing himself as a troubadour. The protagonist is dreaming, so we should be careful about what is real and imagined. He’s also invoking the trope of the philandering knight constantly falling in love and breaking his heart.

Domna fai gran pechat mortal Qe no ama cavalier leal; Mas si es monge o clergal, Non a raizo: Per dreg la deuri’hom cremar Ab un tezo.

Grave mortal sins such ladies make Who won’t make love for a knight’s sake; And they’re far worse, the ones who’ll take A monk or priest-- They ought to get burned at the stake At the very least.

The Middle Ages were not at all chaste; yes, monks and priests were having sex. This isn’t as sexist as it may come across on a first reading however. He’s not saying women shouldn’t have sex (he’s actually saying that it’s a sin not to being having sex), he’s just upset that women who are clearly willing to have sex are turning *him* down. He’s not going to get any awards for feminist of the year, but he’s not the worst. I’m sure this would rouse cheers from a tavern.

En Alvernhe, part Lemozi, M’en aniey totz sols a tapi: Trobei la moller d’en Guari E d’en Bernart; Saluderon mi simplamentz Per sant Launart.

Down in Auvergne, past Limousin, Out wandering on the sly I ran Into the wives of Sir Guarin And Sir Bernard; They spoke a poper welcome then By St. Leonard.

These are recognizable locations along a pilgrimage route. There’s a good chance that these names are replaceable (Bernard can be replaced with any last name that rhymes with a saint) and this song could be used to goad the audience. And no, he hasn’t had sex with these ladies yet. They’re just saying hello (for now).

La unam diz en son latin: “E Dieus vos salf, don pelerin; Mout mi semblatz de bel aizin, Mon escient; Mas trop vezem anar pel mon De folla gent.”

One said in her dialect, “Sir Pilgrim, may the Lord protect Men so sweet-manned, so correct, With such fine ways; This whole world’s full of lunatics And rogues, these days.”

I think most would agree that this is happening in the knight’s sex-dream because she’s just sweet talking him. The awesome part is that the “dialect” reflects the singer actually adopting a Northern French language (they’re mutually intelligible). Guillem didn’t have to go that hardcore, but he did.

Ar auzires qu’ai respondut; Anc no li diz bat ni but, Ni fer ni fust no ai mentaugut, Mas sol aitan: “Barbariol, babariol, Babarian.”

For my reply--I’ll swear to you I didn’t tell them Bah or Boo, I answered nothing false of true; I just said, then, “Babario, babariew, Babarian.”

This guy just mocks their accents as a reply. Wildin’.

So diz n’Agnes a n’Ermessen: “Trobat avem que anam queren. Sor, per amor Deu, l’alberguem, Qe ben es mutz, E ja per lui nostre conselh Non er saubutz.”

So Agnes said to Ermaline, “Let’s take him home, quick; don’t waste time. He’s just the thing we’d hoped to find: Mute as a stone. No matter what we’ve got in mind, It won’t get known.”

In this stanza we see two repeats and a new thing. First, the names are easy to replace (Agnes doesn’t even have to rhyme with anything) so that this can be done to call out a specific woman’s name. Second, the language skills are being flaunted again as this Occitan-speaker is just casually showcasing that he can sing about sex in other languages too, thankyouverymuch. Lastly, this is WOMEN voicing their desire, not men. The man is silent, they think he’s incapable of speech. This is two women in a poem/song getting to steer the story how they please. Stepping back, this is a guy’s sex-dream so you could argue he’s just got a kink for dominant women, but regardless that’s a pretty cool way to turn masculinity on its head.

La unam pres sotz son mantel Menet m’en sa cambra, al fornel. Sapchatz qu’a mi fo bon a bel, El focs fo bos, Et eu calfei me volentiers Als gros carbos.

Under her cloak, one let me hide; We slipped up to her room’s fireside. By now I thought one could abide To play this role-- Right willingly I warmed myself At their live coals.

Yes, this dude is saying he’s more than happy to let the women take charge. Don’t kink-shame him.

A manjar mi deron capos, E sapchatz agui mais de dos, E noi ac cog ni cogastros, Mas sol nos tres, El pans fo blancs el vins fo bos El pebr’ espes.

They served fat capons for our fare-- I didn’t stop at just one pair; We had no cook or cook’s boy there, But just us three. The bread was white, the pepper hot, The wine flowed free.

A capon is a castrated rooster, fattened for eating. He’s being fattened (and emasculated by letting them take control) before the women get down to their fun with him.

“Sor, aquest hom es enginhos, E laissa lo parlar per nos: Nos aportem nostre gat ros De mantenent, Qel fara parlar az estros, Si de renz ment.”

N’Agnes anet per l’enujos, E fo granz et ac loncz guinhos: E eu, can lo vi entre nos, Aig n’espavent, Q’a pauc non perdei la valor E l’ardiment.

“Wait, sister, this could be a fake; He might play dumb just for our sake. See if our big red cat’s awake And fetch him, quick. Right here’s one silence we should break If it’s a trick.”

So Agnes brought that wicked beast, Mustachioed, huge, and full of yeast; To see him sitting at our feast-- Seemed less than good; I very nearly lost my nerve And hardihood.

So yes, he’s joking about almost loosing his boner and there’s that language play again. The big part of the ending, however, is the imagery of the red cat. Cats are typically associated with women, and the color red tempts the mind into thinking of it as female passion or some kind of prowling sexuality (with undertones of evil). The subtext here is that they’re going to test him by letting this cat scratch him up to see if he’ll cry out. If he can keep his mouth shut and allow the womens’ passions, he can stay. If he can’t, he’s out. Ultimately, I’m going to say that this poem is subtly for women’s empowerment. Go scratch up your knights, ladies.

#the old guard #historic #reference #sebastien le livre #booker #french #nationalism #language standardization #occitan #troubadours #i wish i was as cool as troubadours #so underappreciated #asks #lovely anon

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Victor’s Encounter Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Edit: This date has been released in EN!

The date begins with MC in her office at 11pm, preparing Victor’s “big surprise”

Over the past two weeks, she has been sending Victor small gifts to express her gratitude for his help in getting her a smooth interview with Mr Sheng, a real estate tycoon

While she’s in the office, Victor calls her regarding the puppy apron he received

Overall, he would give brief comments on these gifts. He would only say a word of thanks when he occasionally comes across a gift which suits his tastes.

As for the puppy apron I sent today...

Before I can continue asking him about the apron, Victor has already changed the topic.

Victor: If you’re willing to spend all your time on official business, you wouldn’t need to stay up every day... work is never-ending. It’s about time to go home and rest.

MC: Eh?

How does he know that I haven’t returned home to rest yet?

I hastily look out the window. A black car is stationary under the streetlamp. Even though I can’t see the car plate clearly, my instincts tell me that it’s Victor.

MC: Why are you here?

Victor: I was just passing by.

Really...

Victor: Come down. I’ll send you home.

MC: Okay! I’ll pack my things and head down.

Victor: There doesn’t seem to be a big proposal recently. Why do you have to stay till so late?

My heart rattles, and I hurriedly find a reason to get by.

MC: Maybe my mood hasn’t been good recently, so I’m always not in the zone when doing work.

I thought Victor would respond to my words with taunting remarks. Instead his tone slows down, revealing his certainty in me.

Victor: The interview you did with Mr Sheng wasn’t bad. There’s no need to be too impatient, or give yourself too much stress. The accumulation of work always requires time.

Just before I turn the lights off, I toss another glance at the present on the table. Even though he can’t see my expression, I can’t help but smile and nod.

MC: All right.

The next day, Mr Sheng sends her an invitation to a club to meet some of his friends in the industry, mentioning that MC’s interviews have had a positive effect on his company’s reputation

She agrees because it’s an opportunity to expand her network

When she arrives at the club, Victor happens to be there too

Mr Sheng receives a phone call and leaves Victor and MC alone

Victor doesn’t let her drink alcohol, and orders her a glass of warm water instead:

Noticing me look longingly at the beautifully coloured tequila sunrise in his hand, he puts a small red paper umbrella into my cup.

Later on, MC finds herself with nothing to do, so Victor stuffs a cue stick into her hand and suggests they have a game of billiards

MC suggests that if she wins, he has to pass her proposal

She had spent two months on the proposal, but Victor had put it down, saying that it's overly risky

MC: Don’t underestimate me! I’ve won second place in my school’s billiards competition.

While I was prepared for his taunting remarks, Victor grows silent instead.

His interest seems to be piqued, and he sits sideways on the billiard table.

Victor: You’ve left the nest?

He chalks the tip of the cue stick slowly. Seeing that I didn’t say a word, he lifts his eyes towards me, as though genuinely wanting to know my answer to this question.

Actually...

These types of situations happen from time to time. After all, no one wants the proposals they’ve worked hard on to be rejected.

As long as Victor doesn’t completely reject the proposal, I’ll keep on striving.

Come to think of it, this seems to be the first time he has commented on my efforts to keep striving.

Victor: All right. We’ll have one round.

Without waiting for my response, he has already made a decision. His low voice has a hint of joy in it.

I hold my breath and find the most comfortable angle to strike the ball. The colourful balls crash and collide, and one of them rolls in a straight line to the lower right corner--

MC: Yes!

Victor looks at the colourful ball as it rolls into the bag. His brows are raised slightly, and he is clearly surprised.

Victor: No wonder you dared to challenge me today.

MC: The stereotype you have of me is too deep. I’m not really a dummy!

Victor: A dummy’s luck just tends to be better.

My desire to win is ignited. No matter what, I’m going to fight back against his ridicule.

MC: Watch carefully - this is skill, not luck!

Victor leans at the corner of the billiard table, his arms folded. It’s as though he is intrigued, and has an expression which says that he’s going to continue appreciating my “performance”.

My cue stick moves forward, and the white ball leaves my corner, colliding firmly against a bunch of colourful pool balls, and then gets hit into the diagonal bottom pocket...

At the very same moment, I can clearly hear Victor’s chuckle.

Victor: Mm, your skills are not bad.

MC: There’s no need to be too happy. It’s 1 against 0. I’m in the lead.

Victor takes two steps forward. He retrieves the white ball from the bag, gets into position, and leans down slowly.

He isn’t anxious to enter the game at all. He adjusts the angle several times before lifting his head to look at me.

Victor: If you lose, you’re not allowed to cry.

MC: Are you treating me like a child?

Right after the words leave my mouth, the two balls that are hit roll outwards with a “ping”. One rolls into the middle bag, and one rolls into the bottom bag.

At the same time, he stands in position without a hint of hesitation, and strikes. The “ping ping” sounds of impact reverberate continuously in the room--

I lean against the wall nervously, “appreciating” how Victor makes shot after shot, striking the balls into the hole.

His calm expression and skilful techniques completely strip the game of suspense.

He stops his movements and looks at the watch on his wrist. He straightens up and arches an eyebrow towards me slightly.

Victor: Do you still want to continue?

MC: Of course we’ll continue...

My words lack confidence, but I’m someone whose resolve will not die until I reach my goal...

Victor: Don’t waste time. Let’s set new rules. The one who gets the black ball in first wins.

Victor lets MC go first, but she starts feeling nervous

Victor: Want to admit defeat?

MC: Not at all...

After a pause, I say what’s in my heart.

MC: I can’t win against you.

Suddenly, a familiar scent surrounds me.

Victor leans over, pressing himself against my back, holding my cue stick with both hands.

The cue stick controlled by Victor strikes the white ball cleanly. After a crisp sound of impact, the black ball rolls straight into the middle bag.

Victor: Congratulations, your proposal has passed.

Victor’s low voice is at my ear, tinged with a smile.

Not knowing if I should be happy or not, I mutter softly.

MC: This can hardly be called winning...

Victor: I didn’t say that you won. I already passed your proposal last night. You didn’t check your e-mail after work.

Victor’s breath descends on the side of my neck, bringing with it a ticklish residual heat and water vapour. His embrace limits my movements, and my line of sight is confined to the frizz on the billiard table.

MC: ...

Victor: This round of creativity is indeed very risky. If you lose against the market-

MC: I will win!

Without waiting for him to finish, I cut him off.

MC: If it fails, I’ll double this year’s revenue!

I express my attitude decisively. Victor suddenly lowers his head and leans even closer.

The sudden closing of distance magnifies every small detail between us. I can smell his cool and clear scent, and hear every one of his steady breaths.

Victor: I’ll wait and see.

Victor’s body temperature seeps through his thin shirt, covering my slightly trembling back.

Flustered, I try to turn around. Just as I turn my head, my cheek is pressed against his chin.

At this moment, the doors are suddenly flung open. Mr Sheng and a group of others are chatting heartily and about to enter the room. Seeing Victor and I, they pause.

Realising in shock that the position Victor and I are in appears too intimate, I hurriedly squirm out from under his arm, and stand at a corner silently.

On the other hand, Victor calmly straightens up, looking straight at the audience.

Mr Sheng gives me a knowing smile. There’s even a bit of unexpected fondness in his eyes...

Mr Sheng: CEO Victor, I was going to introduce you to two friends who just returned from Wall Street.

Victor retrieves his business card from his pocket, and a small hairpin falls onto the ground.

It’s a red hairpin with a small bowknot on it. There are even two coloured diamonds embedded on the bowknot...

Everyone’s attention is focused on the hairpin.

At that moment, a sentence flashes across my mind: I’m doomed.

With a blank expression, he stoops down to pick up the hairpin, and looks at me without a trace of surprise.

Victor: When did you put this into my pocket?

Sensing the playful glances from the crowd of onlookers, my cheeks flush involuntarily.

MC: I... don’t remember the specific moment, but I did it when you weren’t paying attention...

Victor knits his eyebrows, revealing a perplexed expression.

Victor: Another gift for me?

MC: Yes.

After speaking, I have a “since I’m going to die, I might as well make it worth it” attitude, and continue.

MC: You can use this hairpin to clip up your bangs. I think it’s quite practical when used during work...

Even though I’m certain that I’m speaking in a volume only Victor and I can hear, everybody’s teasing smiles make me feel uneasy...

Victor has maintained the reputation of a thousand-year iceberg for so long. I’m afraid it has been ruined by my hands on this night.

Victor: What nonsense are you thinking about the entire day...

While saying this, Victor puts the small hairpin back into his pocket.

Victor’s reputation is still a formidable one. Even if Victor doesn’t explain himself, the gossip of the onlookers end as soon as he takes out his business card.

All the way till the end of dinner, I obediently maintain a smile, not daring to mention the hairpin to Victor.

On our way home, after much rumination, I decide to give Victor a solemn apology. Before the apology leaves my lips, Victor brings up the topic.

Victor: I accept your goodwill entirely. Could you stop giving me gifts now?

I nod reluctantly, but still struggle with my apology.

MC: I’m sorry about what happened today...

Victor: What are you sorry for?

MC: For making a fool out of you in front of so many people.

Victor: No one will think that way.

Victor adjusts the cuffs of his suit with a calm expression on his face.

It’s as though what happened just now was really not enough to pose an issue to him.

After a few days, MC appears before Victor with a exquisitely wrapped present

👀

It’s a 32 page business report...

It contains data from the company’s monthly financial reports, business index data, word-of-mouth surveys from large-scale programs, market share, etc. ever since LFG started funding MC’s company

MC: All the data reflects that our company has had good business this year. We not only filled in the losses, but our profit margin was also 50% higher than expected.

Victor: So?

MC: It shows that you have a good eye, and have once again made a successful investment!

I expected him to simply cast a sweeping glance at it. Instead, he starts flipping through the report seriously after hearing my words.

Every rustle of the paper flipping makes my heart rattle.

I start feeling nervous for no reason, worried that he would be as he usually is, picking out all sorts of mistakes from the report, and fiercely criticising me.

After some time, he finally closes the report.

Victor: Not bad.

MC: ...

MC: !!!

Victor: What kind of an expression is that?

MC: I’m happy! Only a few gifts I gave you received praise...

Victor pulls open a drawer. While he places the report inside, he takes out a few items at the same time and puts them on the desk.

A salon card, a red hairpin, essential oil for sleep...

Victor: You want me to compliment these things?

I huff, feeling a little guilty.

MC: I... shall return to my office then?

Victor looks as though he’s about to say something, but his phone rings. I stand up quietly, silently gesturing an “I’m leaving” with my hands.

Victor: Wait.

Right after taking two steps, Victor stops me.

Victor: I’ll pick you up at 6pm.

I turn around to see him covering the bottom half of the phone. I hurriedly nod, and suddenly think of something.

MC: Have you started using the puppy apron?

Victor tosses me a glance. After a few seconds of silence, he continues with his phone call.

Fine...

I’ll record this as an addition to the “Victor Not Saying What He Truly Feels” series.

Phone Calls: First // Second

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor #MC is HILARIOUS

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creepingsharia · 4 years

Text

92% of New Muslim Candidates Won’t Express Support for Constitution

3 out of 36 (92%) Muslim American candidates who appeared to be seeking public office for the first time

92% of New Muslim Candidates Won’t Express Support for Constitution; One MN Republican Makes it Bipartisan

By Stephen M. Kirby

It is not appropriate to label all, or even the majority of those, who question Islam and Muslims as Islamophobes. ~ (CAIR Report 2013, Legislating Fear: Islamophobia and its Impact in the United States, p. ix)

In January 2020, I wrote about the results of a survey I had done in which I presented four questions to eighty Muslim public officials across the United States; each question asked the Muslim public official to choose between following the U.S. Constitution/our man-made laws or Islamic Doctrine. An eye-opening 93% of these Muslim public officials would not express support for the U.S. Constitution or our man-made laws. Of the six who did express this support, only two allowed me to mention their name.[1]

I also submitted these same four questions to seven prominent Muslim Americans who have been publicly aspiring to reform Islam; I sent four similar questions, based on Canadian law, to six prominent Muslim Canadians who had also been publicly aspiring to reform Islam. Of these thirteen aspiring reformers, only two Muslim Americans and one Muslim Canadian responded saying they supported man-made laws over the commands of Allah and the teachings of Muhammad.[2]

I then decided to submit the same four questions to 36 Muslim American candidates who appeared to be seeking public office for the first time.[3]

We shall first look at the four questions I used and then examine the variety of responses I received from those Muslims seeking public office. I then list the Muslim candidates, by State, who did not respond. This is followed by my concluding remarks.

The Questions

On February 10, 2020, I sent the following e-mail to a group of 36 Muslims who were running, or had been running, for public office at various levels of government across the United States; on February 17th I sent it again to the Muslims who had not initially responded:[4]

I have written extensively about Islam (six books and numerous articles and brochures) and think it important that non-Muslims gain a better understanding of Islam.

If you are elected to public office you will take an oath of office that includes swearing, or affirming, to support the United States Constitution. With that in mind, I am interested in your response, as a candidate who follows the religion of Islam, to the following questions:

No. 1: Will you go on record now and state that our 1st Amendment right to freedom of speech gives the right to anyone in the United States to criticize or disagree with your prophet Muhammad, and will you also go on record now and state that you support and defend anyone’s right to criticize or disagree with your prophet Muhammad, and that you condemn anyone who threatens death or physical harm to another person who is exercising that right?

No. 2: Our 1st Amendment guarantees freedom of religion in the United States. As part of that freedom, anyone in the United States has the right to join or leave any religion, or have no religion at all. Will you go on record now and state that you support and defend the idea that in the United States a Muslim has not only the freedom to leave Islam, but to do so without fear of physical harm, and will you also go on record now and state that you condemn anyone who threatens physical harm to a Muslim who is exercising that freedom?

No. 3: According to the words of Allah found in Koran 5:38 and the teachings of your prophet Muhammad, amputation of a hand is an acceptable punishment for theft. But our U.S. Constitution, which consists of man-made laws, has the 8th Amendment that prohibits cruel and unusual punishment such as this. Do you agree with Allah and your prophet Muhammad that amputation of a hand is an acceptable punishment for theft in the United States, or do you believe that our man-made laws prohibiting such punishments are true laws and are to be followed instead of this 7th Century command of Allah and teaching of Muhammad?

No. 4: According to the words of Allah found in Koran 4:3, Muslim men are allowed, but not required, to be married to up to four wives. Being married to more than one wife in the United States is illegal according to our man-made bigamy laws. Do you agree with Allah that it is legal for a Muslim man in the United States to be married to more than one woman, or do you believe that our man-made laws prohibiting bigamy are true laws and are to be followed instead of this 7th Century command of Allah?

I look forward to your responses.

Support for the U.S. Constitution

Only three Muslim candidates clearly stated that they would support the U.S. Constitution/our man-made laws over Islamic Doctrine; they each gave me permission to use their name:

Deedra Abboudd (D), Maricopa County Board of Supervisors, Arizona

Iman-Utopia Layjou Bah (I), U.S. House of Representatives (AZ-2)

Rashid Malik (D), U.S. House of Representatives (GA-7)

Other Replies

I received various replies from five other Muslim candidates:

Leila Shukri Adan (D), U.S. House of Representatives (MN-5): On February 17th Adan responded to my second e-mail:

Thank you so much for your email and for the reminder. I am confirming receipt and will get back to you soon!

I have not heard back from Adan.

Muhammad Arif (D), United States Senate, Arizona: Arif responded the same day to the February 10th e-mail. He asked if we could meet for coffee or lunch to discuss the questions. I explained that I lived too far away for that. We exchanged several additional e-mails, and on February 11th he wrote:

Since you do not live in Arizona and I’m busy in my campaign because I have limited time … can I email you these answer [sic] next week … I apologize for delay [sic] because the questions I have to read carefully and answer in details [sic]

I replied that would be fine. The “next week” came and went, and on February 22nd I sent him an e-mail asking when I could expect his responses. I have not heard back from Arif.

Zainab Baloch (D), Mayor of Raleigh, North Carolina: Baloch lost the 2019 general election to become the Mayor of Raleigh. However, her subsequent social postings appeared to indicate that she was in politics for the long haul; she had written: “This isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon.” On February 17th she responded to my second e-mail:

I didn’t miss it [my first e-mail]. If I have time to respond to your harassing questions, I will. Have a great week!

I have not heard back from Baloch.

Ameena Matthews (D), U.S. House of Representatives (IL-1): On February 24th, in reply to my second e-mail, I received the following from Dr. La’Shawn Littrice, Matthews’ Campaign Manager:

Hi, Steve. How are you? I will forward this to Dr. Matthews and get it back to you by Wednesday [February 26th] of this week.

On February 28th I sent Littrice an e-mail asking her for an update. I have not heard back from Littrice.

Reem Subei (D), Ohio State Senate: In response to each of the two e-mails I sent Subei, I received the following form response:

Thank you for contacting Reem for Ohio. This campaign is about bringing justice and equality to all. Please click the link below to provide us with your preferred volunteering activity. Let’s build a system that works for everyone, because we all win when we all win.

The link takes one to a form for volunteers to complete. I have received no other response from Subei.

No Reply

These Muslim candidates did not reply:

California

Kaisar Ahmed (Nonpartisan) – San Bernardino County Board of Supervisors

Shahid Buttar (D) – U.S. House of Representatives (CA-12)

Fatima Shahnaz Iqbal-Zubair (D) – California State Assembly

Cenk Uygur (D) – U.S. House of Representatives (CA-25)

Colorado

Iman Jodeh (D) – Colorado State House of Representatives

Delaware

Madinah Wilson-Anton (D) – Delaware State House of Delegates

Georgia

Nabilah Islam (D) – U.S. House of Representatives (GA-7)

Illinois

Junaid “J” Afeef (D) – Kane County State’s Attorney

Rush Darwish (D) – U.S. House of Representatives (IL-3)

Mohammed Faheem (D) – U.S. House of Representatives (IL-8)

Sarah Gad (D) – U.S. House of Representatives (IL-1)

Inam Hussain (D) – U.S. House of Representatives (IL-8)

Moon Khan (D) – Circuit Court Clerk, DuPage County

Azam Nizamuddin (D) – Circuit Judge, Circuit Court of DuPage County

Abdelnasser Rashid (D) – Cook County Board of Review

Maryland

Saafir Rabb (D) – U.S. House of Representatives (MD-7)

Massachusetts

Ihssane Leckey (D) – U.S. House of Representatives (MA-4)

Nichole Mossalam (D) – Massachusetts State House of Representatives

Michigan

Solomon Rajput (D) – U.S. House of Representatives (MI-12)

Minnesota

Dalia Al-Aqidi (R) – U.S. House of Representatives (MN-5)

Omar Fateh (D) – Minnesota State Senate

New Jersey

Alp Basaran (D) – U.S. House of Representatives (NJ-9)

New York

Tahanie Aboushi (D) – Manhattan District Attorney

Shaniyat Chowdhury (D) – U.S. House of Representatives (NY-5)

Mary Jobaida (D) – New York State Assembly

Badrun Nahar Khan (D) – U.S. House of Representatives (NY-14)

Zohran Kwame Mamdani (D) – New York State Assembly

Ohio

Mohamud Jama (D) – Ohio State House of Representatives

Conclusion

These 36 Muslim Americans seeking public office would have to, if successful, take an oath of office that includes swearing (or affirming) to support the U.S. Constitution. In theory then, one would think such Muslim Americans would be quite willing even now to express their support for that Constitution and our man-made laws. The fact that 92% of them would not take this opportunity to express that support is troubling.

Troubling, but not surprising. As we saw earlier, 93% of current Muslim public officials and 77% of aspiring Muslim reformers also declined to make such a choice. This, in spite of the fact that anyone holding a public office in the United States is required to take an oath to support the U.S. Constitution and our man-made laws, and we regularly hear from aspiring Muslim reformers that Islamic Doctrine needs to be modernized and made more compatible with Western laws. But when faced with specific choices, instead of glittering generalities, 91% of all the Muslims listed in these three categories would not express support for Western laws over Islamic Doctrine.

One might wonder if it is fair to ask Muslims to make such a choice. It certainly is because of the irreconcilable conflict between major tenets of Islamic Doctrine and Western Laws, especially the U.S. Constitution.[5]

Here is an additional consideration. In its 2020 ‘Muslim Vote Campaign’ the Council on American Islamic Relations (CAIR) has included a questionnaire asking non-Muslim candidates and government officials whether or not they support specific “Muslim needs.” CAIR explained:

CAIR’s 2020 questionnaire is an update to its 2016 questionnaire and provides sample questions for Muslims to ask local city council, mayoral, state legislative, gubernatorial, and congressional candidates running for office and government officials.

Candidate responses to CAIR’s election questionnaire will assist American Muslims in evaluating each candidate’s leadership criteria and their ability to unite and engage the community on policies and programs that meet Muslim needs.

The questions and the issues included in the questionnaire emphasize the American Muslim community’s concerns, as well as those of its civil rights, immigrant rights and worker rights allies.[6]

Here is a sampling of the issues about which the American Muslim community is concerned:[7]

1. Do you plan to address the rise in Islamophobia and hateful rhetoric towards Muslims in the United States?

2. Do you support the right of Muslim inmates to make religious accommodation requests for religious headwear, like hijabs, kufis, and other head coverings?

3. Do you support the right of Muslim inmates to make religious accommodation requests for copies of the Quran and other religious texts, prayer mats, prayer beads, and other religious items?

4. Do you support the right of Muslim inmates to make religious accommodation requests for modified meal schedules while fasting during Ramadan?

5. Do you support the right of Muslim inmates to make religious accommodation requests for daily congregational prayers and Friday religious services?

6. Do you support public school systems with significant Muslim populations in your congressional district and/or state closing for the Muslim holidays of Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha, when many students or faculty would otherwise be absent?

The focus of CAIR’s questions is on the need for non-Muslims to accommodate certain Islamic religious teachings. Since CAIR has turned the focus on certain Islamic religious teachings, it is only appropriate that the focus should now be turned on all Islamic religious teachings, especially those that are irreconcilably in conflict with the U.S. Constitution and our man-made laws. Muslims running for and holding public office need to be asked about these conflicts and expected to publicly, categorically choose between the U.S. Constitution/our man-made laws and those contradictory teachings of their religion.

We need to pay heed to these words of Winston Churchill from 1940:

This is no time for ease and comfort. It is the time to dare and endure.

Dr. Stephen M. Kirby is the author of six books about Islam. His latest book is Islamic Doctrine versus the U.S. Constitution: The Dilemma for Muslim Public Officials.

[1] Stephen M. Kirby, “93% of Muslim Public Officials Would Not Express Support for the Constitution They Swore to Uphold,” Jihad Watch, January 7, 2020, https://www.jihadwatch.org/2020/01/93-of-muslim-public-officials-would-not-express-support-for-the-constitution-they-swore-to-uphold.

[2] Stephen M. Kirby, “The Adventures of Asking Muslim Reformers to Categorically Choose between Western Laws and Islam,” Jihad Watch, January 16, 2020, https://www.jihadwatch.org/2020/01/the-adventures-of-asking-muslim-reformers-to-categorically-choose-between-western-laws-and-islam.

[3] I would like to thank Deplorable Kel for a majority of these names: https://deplorablekel.com/category/u-s-elections/2020-election/.

[4] These questions were taken from Chapter 10 of my latest book, Islamic Doctrine Versus the U.S. Constitution: The Dilemma for Muslim Public Officials (Washington DC: Center for Security Policy Press, 2019); https://www.centerforsecuritypolicy.org/2019/12/03/csp-press-releases-primer-on-islamic-doctrine-versus-the-u-s-constitution/.

[5] For details about this irreconcilable conflict see Islamic Doctrine Versus the U.S. Constitution: The Dilemma for Muslim Public Officials. For ways in which Islamic Doctrine allows Muslims to appear to take an oath to support the U.S. Constitution and our man-made laws, see Chapter 1, “Taking the Oath of Office.”

[6] “CAIR Launches 2020 ‘Muslims Vote’ Campaign with Release of Candidate Questionnaire, Calendar of Election Dates,” CAIR, January 21, 2020, https://www.cair.com/press_releases/cair-launches-2020-muslims-vote-campaign-with-release-of-candidate-questionnaire-calendar-of-election-dates/.

[7] “Sample Questions for Candidates and Public Officials,” CAIR, 2020, https://d3n8a8pro7vhmx.cloudfront.net/cairhq/pages/1125/attachments/original/1579621884/2020_Sample_Questions.pdf?1579621884.

#Legal #Islam #Sharia #Muslim #Jihad #News #Politics #Immigration #Elections #Congress #Religion #Media

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timetoresurface · 4 years

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Never Really Over / JJH

idol!au Jaehyun x Y/N 4k exes scenario where Y/N reflects on her relationship with Jaehyun. This can be read as a one-shot or as part two to Take You Home.

This might feel a little angsty if this could be considered a warning, other than that there are no warnings.

It had been three years since Jaehyun had asked you to get some ice cream with him in an unknown city to both of you. You were finally getting over your breakup when Jaehyun had appeared out of nowhere and showed you that the world was still beautiful. You had met him by accident when you were travelling alone while he was on tour with his band. You didn’t know who he was or who this band of his was, but after your encounter, you had discovered the charming personality of Jaehyun. He just needed to look at you, and you would do anything for him. You would’ve even hidden a body for him without asking him any questions. That’s how whipped you were for the man.

“I don’t really want to go yet.” Jaehyun had said after you finished your ice-creams. Usually, you ate your food relatively quickly, but both of you had managed to eat the delicious dessert, so slowly it had taken over an hour to finish. Most people were enjoying each other’s company at a bar or in their cosy homes, but not you and Jaehyun. You had been walking through the city at nighttime.

There weren’t a lot of people on the streets, and it had given you and Jaehyun a boost of confidence. He had given you his leather jacket because you were only dressed in a loose summer dress. Both of you moved closer to each other with every step you took until you arm was linked with his. If people had seen you that day, they would’ve thought you were on your first date or something. Perhaps this could be considered as your first date.

“You have a concert tomorrow. You should go back to your hotel.” You told him while you stopped walking. Maybe it was fate, or perhaps it was a stupid accident, but you were in the exact same spot where you had seen him this morning. The way he had danced into your heart would be a memory you would cherish until the day you were old and wrinkled. You secretly looked at him, but you noticed his eyes were already on you.

“I still don’t want to go, though.” He whispered softly. You seated yourself at the river’s edge, and Jaehyun quickly followed. You didn’t respond. Not that you didn’t want to, but because you needed some time to reflect on the situation.

“This is the exact same place where I saw you this morning.” You told him after a couple of minutes of silence. You didn’t mind the silence, because it gave you some time to think. Why were you spending time with some foreign guy that you’re probably never going to see again? The longer you stay by his side, the harder it will be to say goodbye.

“I remember because I was over there trying to get you to notice me. I had never danced so thoroughly.” Jaehyun confessed while he pointed toward the spot he had been in at that moment. His eyes were focused on you like you were the only one that mattered. As if you were the most exciting and beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on.

Two years and six months ago you and Jaehyun were officially dating. After your night out where the two of you simply ate ice cream and walked through the city until midnight, you had kept in touch. First, you were simply e-mailing each other with pictures you had taken that night of each other, but that quickly escalated to sending memes and long-ass e-mails talking about your day.

One day he had asked for your number because he felt sick and didn’t want to spend too much time on his computer. You had given him your phone number, and five minutes later an unknown number was calling you. You still remember the way your heart raced when you picked up your phone, and Jaehyun’s voice was on the other side of the line. It was close to midnight for him, but you were still at work. You had excused yourself, telling your manager there was an urgent call from your mother.

First, both of you only wanted to call each other, but one particular day he wanted to FaceTime you, and you could never deny him anything. Even though your make-up was a mess, you still wanted to see his face again too.

“Hi, Y/N!” Jaehyun softly said through the phone, making your heart race. It had been a month of him calling you every other day, but you still weren’t used to his honey-like voice. You had already confessed your feelings for the man to yourself, but you could never tell him that you thought of him more than just a friend. It was cliché, really, but you didn’t want to lose him as a friend. Even though you hadn’t seen him since the day you had met, your weekly calls were something you looked forward to.

“Jaehyun, how are you?” You greeted him enthusiastically, and you could hear him laugh on the other side. You felt your body react to his laugh. Happiness spreading over you like a warm blanket on a cold winter’ night.

“Can I see your face today?” Jaehyun asked you, but you didn’t immediately respond. You really wanted to see his face again, but today had been so hectic already, you had forgotten to do mascara on one of your eyes.

“Why?” You asked him.

“Because I’m starting to forget how beautiful you are.” Jaehyun said, but you could hear he was just as nervous as you were. You had gotten used to his voice. Over the past couple of weeks, you could call yourself an expert in deciphering Jaehyun’s voice. If it was an Olympic sport, you would get gold.

“I thought my beauty was something that could never be forgotten?” You teased him while silently checking yourself out in the mirror. You tried to fix your hair without making any sounds. You didn’t want him to know you were worried about your appearance. You were just friends with Jaehyun after all, even though he told you every other day you were beautiful.

“You caught me. I just want to see you. I need to see a friendly face.” He confessed, and there was something in the way he spoke that got your worried.

“Is everything okay? Should I be worried?” You immediately asked him, forgetting about your reflection in the mirror. He didn’t answer you at first, but your phone notified you that Jaehyun was trying to FaceTime you.

“Hi!” You greeted him again with the biggest smile you could possibly give him. He mirrored your expression immediately.

“Hi!” He repeated your words, both of you too stunned to say anything. It had been a while since you had seen his face in action. You did receive pictures and updates from him, but it was the first time you could just admire the way his smile lit up his face.

“Why isn’t it dark outside? Aren’t you in Seoul?” You asked him when you noticed his face shining as bright as the sun in the background.

"I might not be in Seoul at the moment.” He softly confessed, his face expressing his every worry. His eyes showed you that he was having multiple thoughts at once, and he was having troubles with maintaining eye contact with you.

“Where are you?” You asked him, but you recognized a familiar parking lot in the background. Your heart was racing, and the palms of your hands started to sweat. This couldn’t be true, right?

“You still work at the same company, right?” He asked you. This had given you enough reason to look out the window that showed you the parking lot.

“Yes, why?” You asked, but you already knew why. Jaehyun was standing in the parking lot of your building in tight skinny jeans while holding some flowers. Sunflowers to be more correct. They were your favourite.

“I might or might not be standing in front of your company.” He confessed, and you could see his blush through the crappy connection of your FaceTime call.

“Are you holding flowers?” You asked him while you were simultaneously running down the stairs as if you were a madwoman. You could hear Jaehyun’s laugh through your phone by your actions, but you didn’t care. Jaehyun had taken a plane and had looked up the address of where you worked, so he could give you flowers? He did give you a bit more than flowers that day. He had given you his promise to love you forever.

Exactly two years ago you had moved to a strange country where you barely knew anything about the language or culture. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. It didn’t cross your mind that Jaehyun wouldn’t be with you every second of the day. It hadn’t occurred to you that you barely spoke Korean, and this could lead to stressful situations and loneliness. You also hadn’t realized how famous Jaehyun was in his country, and that normal dates like going to a restaurant weren’t possible. The two of you were always hanging out in your apartment, or you visited him when he was preparing for a new comeback.

The first months were difficult, but you kept pushing through because you could see Jaehyun every other week, which was a lot more than you could before. The first six months you were together, you had only seen each other four weeks in total, so you didn’t want to complain. You had started to learn the language, and you had made some friends making life more bearable. You began to see your new friends more than Jaehyun, and he was exactly happy with that.

“Why are you not home?” Jaehyun immediately asked you when you had picked up your phone. You were at a new coffee shop with some of your new friends. You hadn’t expected a call from Jaehyun.

“I didn’t know you were coming over tonight.” You explained yourself, but Jaehyun wasn’t in the mood to listen to your reasoning.

“I’m always here on Thursday.” He complained, and you knew he was running his hands through his hair in frustration.

“You weren’t there last Thursday.” You pointed out, feeling a bit fed up yourself by the situation. He could’ve texted you he was coming over. You would always choose him over a coffee shop date with your friends. Not that your friends weren’t important, but you could see them at any time of the day.

“That’s because we were finishing some interview.” He stated.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be right over.” You tried to apologize, but he quickly interrupted.

“No, it’s okay. I only had an hour, so I’m going back to the company. Enjoy your free time with your friends.” He said harshly before hanging up.

This wasn’t the first time a situation like that had occurred. Lately, you were missing each other more than you could actually see each other. Somehow it felt as if you were in a long-distance relationship all over again, and that didn’t make you happy.

You did love Jaehyun, and you hadn’t said the three words to him exactly, but you started to regret your decision of coming to Korea. Perhaps it would have been better if you had let the long-distance thing wear out. Maybe you wouldn’t have loved him as much as you did, perhaps it would’ve been easier to leave. But in the end, you did leave Korea, and you did leave him because both of you weren’t happy in the relationship you were in.

“I’m not Happy, Jaehyun, can’t you see?” You whispered through the tears. You couldn’t look him in the eyes, you didn’t want to show him how hurt you really were.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He told you softly while he embraces you in a hug. You would miss the way his arms wrapped so perfectly around your body as if his body was meant to hold you. You would miss the way he would always softly kiss the top of your head to make you feel loved. You did feel loved by him, but awkward situations and accidents over the past few months had you making this decision.

“I can’t do this anymore. I think we rushed into this thing without thinking about the consequences. We were both selfish.” You told him while your tears were staining his white shirt. You tried to get out of his embrace, but it was hard. This would probably be the last time you would ever hug the man who was the love of your life.

“We can work through this.” He pleaded with tears in his eyes, but you could tell he didn’t believe his own words either. The first months together were the best months of your life, but only when you were with him. Sometimes you could only see each other one hour a week, and the other days you were left alone in a country you didn’t know the language of. Like you had said, maybe you two had rushed into things out of selfish reasons. Perhaps it was selfish of you that you wanted to leave, but not even Jaehyun couldn’t make you stay.

“We’ve been trying for months, and we’re not getting anywhere.” You told him softly. "Things have changed.”

“What has changed? My feelings for you haven’t changed if that’s what you’re thinking.” Jaehyun told you forcefully while tears kept falling down from his eyes. It hurt you to see him like this, but it would be best for both of you if you just left. Especially now that you had seen how badly you could hurt him. It is best that you leave now, before you both loved each other too much to break it. Or that’s what you thought.

“I know, but I’ve got to do this.” You stated. You grabbed your suitcase and tried to make your way to the door. It would do no good to continue the same conversation for hours. Your decision was made, and there was nothing that could make you change your mind. You were deeply unhappy, and you needed to fix yourself first before you could fix this broken thing between you and Jaehyun.

“Are we still going to be…” Jaehyun asked but was interrupted by his tears. All logical thinking seemed to have left him, and you almost wanted to hug him again. You wanted to kiss it all better, but that would be a mean thing to do when you were trying to leave him.

“I don’t think we should continue…” you started saying, but Jaehyun quickly interrupted you with his mouth on yours. It wasn’t an innocent or lovingly kiss, but fiery and passionate as if he tried to make you change your mind with his lips. You pulled away with the last piece of strength that you had. If he had kissed you a second longer, you probably would have stayed.

You stepped away from him with your suitcase in hand. This time he didn’t try to stop you, but he let you go. When you closed the door, you could hear Jaehyun falling apart while you wiped away your remaining tears. How are you ever going to get over someone like him? Someone who would do anything in his power to make you happy. Why couldn’t you just be happy?

It has been two years since you had left Jaehyun in your empty apartment. You didn't have any mutual friends, so you could never check upon him. You could, however, follow him on Instagram. You did watch fancams and interviews starring Jaehyun just to have a little glimpse of him. After these two years, you still loved him the same way, but you didn’t regret your decision. You were missing a piece of yourself, but you weren’t unhappy. The timing of your love with Jaehyun was just never right.

Your friends supported your decision, but they didn’t understand. They tried to help you get over him by setting you up on dates, but no one could ever reach Jaehyun. You had experienced a great love, and you didn’t want to settle for anything less. You’d rather be alone for the rest of your life than having to sleep in the same bed with someone you didn’t even like. However, you still accepted the dates your friends had arranged for you. It would be rude to deny their help, even if it wasn’t the help you precisely needed.

That’s how you found yourself all dolled up at the entrance of a very fancy restaurant. Your friends told you this guy would be the one to help you get over Jaehyun. You didn’t believe them of course, but you did hope the date would be more pleasant than the last one. The guy had taken you to Mac Donalds and made you pay for him, and he had taken his little sister on your date. You actually first thought it was his daughter, but he was quick to state that it was his baby sister. Weird.

You opened the door of the restaurant and made your way inside. You didn’t know what to expect as your friends had never given you his picture or name. They told you he would have a sunflower and would be waiting for you. You spotted someone with a sunflower in his hands, and you wanted to run back outside, but his eyes kept you frozen in your spot. You stared at each other in an off way, as if it were a silent argument. Your glances were fighting each other until tears arose, and you found yourself crying in the middle of a restaurant. You tried to hide the silent tears while you made your way over to where he was sitting. He looked even more handsome than you remembered, more mature.

“Why did you do it?” He hiccuped, tears rolling down with the same silent intensity as yours. You sighed, wiping your own tears before seating yourself before him with a suspending slowness. You felt an urge to do something, to comfort him, but also yourself. You couldn’t kiss him like you used to because you hadn’t spoken to him in over two years.

“They told me I’d forget about you; that I’d move on, but it's been two years, and I still love you.” You told him softly while you kept your eyes on your hands in your lap. You couldn’t look him into his eyes, because you knew you couldn’t control the tears anymore. You have been fighting a long and hard battle to forget him, but you still cried yourself to sleep. You still wanted his arms to embrace you when you had a bad day. You always wanted to tell him about every little thing in your life, but you couldn’t anymore. You didn’t deserve to crave Jaehyun as you were the one to leave.

He didn’t say anything, and you expected the worst. Maybe this was indeed a weird coincidence. Why did you think he had planned this? Why did you think he would still love you after everything you had put him through? You were more delusional than anything, and you needed to leave the situation. You quickly got up and tried to find your way out of the romantic restaurant.

“You can't just say that and then disappear!” Jaehyun yelled while he followed behind. Everyone had his eyes on you and Jaehyun, and it made you panic even more. You had secretly prayed and wished to see Jaehyun's face again, but now that you had seen him in the flesh, you realized how stupid of a thing it was to pray for. All the wounds you had tried to heal by yourself were ripped open by merely Jaehyun’s presence. He grabbed your arm to stop you, but you kept walking until you were outside in the cold air. You hoped it would bring some sense into your troubled mind, but you couldn’t stop the tears. You didn’t care if your make-up was ruined, you only cared about getting out of this painful situation. The more time you would spend with Jaehyun the more you would get your hopes up, and you didn’t deserve that.

“Please.” You pleaded him, but he didn’t let go of your arm. He tried to lock his eyes with yours, but you refused until he forced you to look at him. His fingers forcefully grabbed your chin and made you look at him. You were surprised by his appearance. You knew he had been crying five minutes ago, but you didn’t expect to see a broken man before you. He looked tired, and he looked just as broken as you felt. On stage, he wore make-up and presented a happy persona of himself, but he couldn’t hide the sadness from you. The two of you had been through enough to know the other.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him softly while you looked at the sunflower in his hand.

“I just wanted to see you.” He confessed while he removed the last remaining tear from your cheek. His soft touch brought a calmness, and it reminded you of all the times where Jaehyun had successfully calmed you when you were having a miserable time. You couldn’t answer him because you didn’t know what to do with the information. He wanted to see you? Did this mean he still loved you, or was he just looking for closure?

“I never stopped loving you.” He continued, answering the questions in your thoughts like he had read your mind. You two always had this strange connection, it had shown the first time your eyes had met in a crowded bar.

“Why? I don’t deserve for you to love me.” You whispered, looking into his eyes. His eyes showed you everything you needed to know, but you would love for him to say it. To tell you he wanted you back, and he forgave you for your selfish actions.

“The past two years, I have tried to get over you, but there is this gaping hole in my chest only you can fill.” He explained while he stroked your cheek lovingly. His eyes still showed the same level of adoration as if the past two years hadn’t happened.

“I know you were unhappy back then, but I was too selfish to do anything about it.” He continued while he kept staring intently into your eyes. It all became a bit too much. You had missed him so much, but his presence was too addicting to you. You didn’t want to get used to him again. How he only had eyes for you, and how he listened as if you were the most significant person in this universe.

“You were starting your career. I never blamed you for anything.” You explained to him, but he wasn’t satisfied.

“It’s no excuse for how I behaved. I thought you would always be there when I called. I was selfish. I expected everything from you, but I barely gave anything in return.” It was the first time you had seen him so determined, and you couldn’t understand what his driving force was. Were you his driving force?

“That’s not true Jaehyun. You were the most perfect and loving boyfriend I ever had. Circumstances just made it difficult for us, you know.” You explained to him softly while you mirrored his actions by stroking his cheek. Some people passed you to get into the restaurant, but you didn’t care about their questioning glances. The only person that mattered at this moment was Jaehyun, and no one else. He never stopped being the centre of your world, as pathetic as that may sound.

“Are circumstances still an issue?” He asked you insecurely, but you couldn’t answer him. Was it still the same as back then? You were both a bit older, but did the two of you really mature? Could you try this again? You honestly didn’t know.

“I don’t know.” You finally confessed after staring into his eyes for what felt like hours, but in reality, were merely just seconds. Jaehyun was the only person who could make your world stop. He has always been the one to show you the beauty in everything when you didn’t even pay it any attention.

“Do you want to find out?” He asked you, hope laced in his voice, making you shiver. He looked determined to make you his again, and who were you to deny him?

“I don’t think I can have my heart broken again,” you started, and you noticed Jaehyun’s posture fall, “but today is the first day in over two years where I’m not constantly aching.” You continued, and a smile small appeared over his face. It wasn’t the great smile that had made you fall for him, but it was a start. He offered you the sunflower in his hand, which you gladly accepted. You didn’t know where this was going to take you, but hopefully, you both learned from your past mistakes. What’s the point in rushing? There is always something to fix, isn’t there? You’re going to let yourself be loved by the only person who was capable of loving you. And he was finally allowing you to adore him like you knew how to do.

#Jaehyun fic #jaehyun scenarios #nct fic #nct scenario #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x you #nct x reader #nct x you #nct fanfic #nct fluff #jung jaehyun fic #jung Jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fanfic #nct 127 x you #nct 127 fic

132 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 4 years

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day 16: bad day

prompt from: whumptober (tho i misread the title and can’t post to the challenge but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i still like it) pairing: felix x ace notes: felix’s day goes from bad to neutral to Nice (tm). also everyone except david is a shitty person in this lmao. warnings: implied emotional abuse, implied cheating, threat of violence word count: 2900

It was official; this was the worst day of Felix’s life.

It shouldn’t have been. He should have been happy, maybe a little shocked and nervous, but definitely excited. Not anxious, scared and downright spiteful like he felt right now.

His girlfriend was pregnant. They hadn’t been trying, but she was excited to tell him regardless, already thinking of baby names and giving Felix no room to voice any of his doubts. He knew this was what he claimed he’d always wanted, what he knew his parents wanted for him, to continue the family name since he was the last of his line.

He took another swig of the foul-tasting beer and wondered if she’d done it on purpose. She’d been not-so-subtly hinting at marriage for months, and Felix had always brushed her off. Maybe this was her taking matters into her own hands, forcing Felix to commit to her or drag down both his family name and professional image for having a child out of wedlock.

He didn’t want to marry her because she always seemed way more fond of his money than Felix himself, and he didn’t want to have kids because…

Well. He hated children.

He probably should have brought up that particular piece of information sooner, but he wasn’t sure it would have even made a difference. Not to his parents, not to his girlfriend, and certainly not to the ungodly amount of distant relatives and business associates who kept bugging him about settling down and starting a family.

Because, for some reason, dedicating the last twenty years of his life to doing what other people wanted him to do wasn’t enough.

He’d stupidly believed it would get better. That the twelve-hour work days and countless all-nighters on uninspiring projects would eventually pay off, when in reality all it had lead to were more boring projects. He’d thought buying his girlfriend expensive gifts and taking her on weekly dates followed by the obligatory weekly sex would make them fall in love, but instead she was pushing him into commitments he wasn’t ready for.

He downed the rest of the beer and tried to numb out the suffocating feeling of being trapped. He was doomed to keep living his shitty life exactly the way others dictated, and there was nothing he could do to change his fate.

Maybe that’s why he’d chosen this bar. It wasn’t the usual high-end, after-hour cocktail bar next to his office where everyone would recognize him. It was a shitty sports bar owned and frequented by foreigners, where nobody would approach him to congratulate him on the “good news” after his girlfriend e-mailed his entire contacts list in her excitement.

He debated getting another beer, maybe finally being able to pick one that didn’t taste like piss. God, how sad was his life that the biggest act of rebellion he could come up with was getting drunk on cheap beer in a bad part of town?

Felix clutched the glass tighter in his hand, frustrated at his life but also at himself, how he was unable to do anything but play right into everyone else’s plans. Fuck, he needed to do something different, something he’d never even considered would be in the realm of possibilities for him. But what?

He looked around the bar, seeing a group of backpackers animatedly chatting in what sounded like Spanish. He could go travelling, but that wouldn’t accomplish much except buy him a little bit of time. Not to mention his girlfriend would guilt him until he let her come along.

He could always get blackout drunk and puke his guts out in the bathroom. Maybe get into a bar fight. Try to get his hands on some drugs. Hire a prostitute.

Unfortunately none of those things seemed even remotely more thrilling than the bland beer he’d been drinking the entire night.

Felix sighed and buried his face into his hands. For forty years, he’d kept telling himself he wasn’t like everyone else, that he’d do something meaningful in his life, that he was a risk taker and not a conformer.

And he still would; he just didn’t know what. If he only got a sign—

The door to the bar slammed open and Felix snapped his head up from the noise, his table rattling from the impact of the door hitting the wall.

There was a man, his grey hair and cheap suit both wet from the autumn rain, clutching something under his arm while panting like he’d just run a half marathon. He hurried to close the door, and Felix didn’t mean to stare, but it was the most exciting thing to happen all night.

The man caught Felix’s eye and gave a quick grin.

“You saw nothing,” he offered before running up to the bar.

“Don’t tell me ya fuckin’—” the bartender started, clear annoyance on his features.

“Oops, gotta run, I was never here!” the man offered good-naturedly before hopping over the bar and disappearing into the back.

“Ace for fuck’s sake!” the bartender cursed, yelling at the doorway to what had to be a back room or kitchen. Still, he made no move to follow him, instead sighing in agitation and aggressively started cleaning a couple of pint glasses.

Felix realized three things at once; one, the new customer screamed trouble. Two, he clearly knew the bartender. And three, Felix was intrigued.

He made his way to the bar with his empty glass, placing a ten euro bill on the worn wood that earned him a fresh glass of beer in only a couple of seconds. He appreciated that the bartender hadn’t tried to make small talk during the entire evening, and lamented the fact that he had to break the silence.

“Who is your friend?” Felix asked, trying to ignore the self-consciousness that always surfaced when he had to subject the world to his extremely obvious German accent.

“'Friend' is a strong word,” the bartender huffed in annoyance, though it seemed to be directed at the person they were talking about and not Felix. “'A pest who keeps comin' back like a boomerang no matter how many times I kick 'im out' sounds more fitting.”

Felix hummed in acknowledgement and sipped at his beer, deciding to sit down at the bar instead of returning to his table.

“He seems interesting,” Felix mused, trying to fish more information about the man.

Instead of humoring him, the bartender stopped cleaning the glasses and gave him an incredulous stare.

“You've gotta be fucking kidding me,” he deadpanned. “The hell's a guy like you see in a rat like 'im?”

“That wasn't what I meant,” Felix insisted, staring at his glass in embarrassment. He was just curious, he wasn't… interested, at least not that way. God, why could he never communicate properly? This is why he never tried anything new.

He heard the bartender sigh long and loud, like this wasn't the first time he'd had to put up with a similar situation.

“Look mate, whatever yer thinkin', don't,” he offered, like that was supposed to help Felix at all. “Guy's way more trouble than 'es worth, an' he sure as hell ain't here to make friends.”

Felix didn't have time to reply, not that he even knew what he would have said, before the door slammed open once again and heavy footsteps stomped into the bar.

“Oi!” the bartender shouted in annoyance. “Don't go draggin' mud into my bar!"

“Where is he?” one of the new patrons demanded in German, and his voice was threatening enough to make Felix glance over his shoulder at the new arrivals.

He saw a group of four men that looked like bad news, their cheap clothing and poorly made tattoos making Felix think of some lowly local gang.

“Read the sign, mate,” the bartender scoffed, pointing at a metal plaque in the style of a road sign that said ‘Service in English only’.

“What a fucking moron,” one of the thugs commented, not even attempting to switch languages.

“We know he's here!” the man at the front barked out and proceeded to slam a fist against the bar.

“I got no bloody clue what yer talkin' about!” the bartender claimed. “But if yer gonna come to my bar an' start a fight, so help me—”

"Let's just beat him up!” one of the men was getting impatient.

“For the last time, where is he!?” one of the thugs surged forward and grabbed the bartender by his collar.

“You've got the fuckin' wrong place, I dun know shit about what ya even want!” the bartender, to his credit, didn't even bat an eye. Then again, it looked like he could easily hold his own in a fight.

Felix heard a gasp and noticed one of the Spanish kids cower closer to the corner they were sitting in, observing the scene with fear in her eyes.

The tension in the air seemed like it was about to snap, and instead of making Felix want to bolt into the safety of his mansion, it made his adrenaline start pumping.

This was what he needed. A thrill.

“You heard the man,” Felix raised his voice, finally turning to address the group. “You're in the wrong place.”

“Shut the fuck up, this doesn't involve you!” one of them eloquently responded.

“It started involving me when you barged in and ruined my night,” Felix explained calmly despite feeling his palms start sweating from nervousness, years of faking an unphased persona finally coming to use.

“Okay, the fuck's your problem!?” the guy who seemed to be the leader demanded, finally letting go of the bartender in favor of looming over Felix threateningly.

“I said,” he emphasized, slowly lifting his pint glass to take a sip of his drink and flash his ring with the family insignia. “You've got the wrong place.”

There was a moment of silence when all Felix heard was his own heart beating in his ears, keeping his expression neutral and looking at the thugs like they were nothing more than a fleck of dirt on his expensive suit. Hopefully, they'd recognize the symbol, even if the Richters hadn’t been involved in the local underworld for years, not after the disappearance of his parents.

“The fuck is he on about?” one of the men, who looked to be the youngest, demanded. “Let's just beat them both up and—”

“Shut up,” the leader barked, glancing at Felix fleetingly. “We seem to have gotten lost on the way.”

Felix couldn’t help the smug smile.

“Happens to the best of us,” he said.

The group slowly started slinking out of the bar without further complaints, with Felix's eyes following them the entire time as if daring them to protest.

“Sorry for bother,” one of them even offered to the bartender in questionable English before the door closed after them.

“I'll be damned,” the bartender huffed and crossed his arms, giving Felix a look that could generously be described as somewhat impressed. Felix offered a shaky smile in return before he focused all his attention on staring at the surface of the bar and trying not to tremble from fear as the adrenaline left his body. He hoped it wasn’t obvious he was taking unnecessarily deep breaths and that cold sweat was running down his back under the suit.

That had been the most idiotic thing he had ever done. It was stupid, it was dangerous, and unnecessary and—

And he'd never felt such a rush of absolute victory before.

There was a thud as a beer was placed in front of him, and he glanced up to see the bartender smirking at him.

“It's on the house,” he said in a heavily accented but otherwise fluent German.

Well. It seemed this night was just full of surprises.

Soon after, Felix found himself sitting in a corner booth nursing his two beers. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt good, and it wasn’t just from the alcohol buzzing in his system.

He’d proved to himself that he had balls. He was one wrong move away from ending up in a bar fight, and even that thought didn't make him cower in fear like it would have before. Despite never being in a fight before, his confidence was soaring, and he liked to imagine him and the bartender could have easily taken the four thugs.

And then his night only got better as a handsome stranger slid down into the opposite side of the booth.

“So, King told me you saved my ass just now,” the man said with a charming smile, casually leaning closer and propping his chin up on his elbow like they were old friends catching up.

It took Felix longer than he'd like to recognize the man as the one that caught his attention earlier. Without the baseball cap, sunglasses and cheap suit jacket, he cleaned up rather well, dressed in a simple light pink button-up and jeans. Slightly messy, silver hair was a stark contrast to the mischievous brown eyes and almost youthful, cocky smirk on his face.

Felix suddenly realized why the bartender thought he was interested in more than just the man's colorful personality.

“I suppose that's true,” Felix said after a way longer silence than was socially acceptable, but his companion was courteous not to mention anything.

“Well, whether you meant to or not, you have my thanks!” the man grinned good-naturedly. “I would have bought you a beer, but I see David's already got you covered,” he added, gesturing to the two pints where Felix was still working through his first.

“Yes, it's…” Felix started, debating whether he should be honest about his distaste for the drink or not. Fuck it, drunk and brave had worked earlier. “A shame it doesn't make it taste any better.”

The man barked out a laugh and Felix smiled at the success of his joke.

“I know, right?” his companion snickered. “I keep telling him to mix it up, maybe get some nice wines too, but he insists on importing that awful stuff the Brits call beer.”

Felix smiled politely, not knowing what to add to the statement. Regardless of what the bartender—David?—had claimed before, the two definitely seemed to be friends.

“I'm sorry, where are my manners!” the man suddenly seemed to realize, offering his hand over the table. “I'm Ace.”

“Felix,” Felix replied, returning the handshake firmly, like his father and numerous career coaches had taught him.

“So, Felix,” Ace continued, retracting his hand but leaning over the table even further. “What brings you here? I think I'd remember seeing someone like you before.”

Was that flirting? It had been so long since anyone had showed any interest in Felix, he couldn’t even recognize what was just casual conversation, too used to business world small talk about the stock market and someone's secretary's family.

“I needed a change,” Felix said, before realizing he probably shouldn't be revealing too much. “—of scenery,” he hastily added.

Ace regarded him silently for a few heartbeats and Felix gulped down some beer to try not to fret under the scrutinizing gaze.

“Scenery, huh?" Ace hummed. "Seen anything you like so far?”

Okay, that had to be flirting. Right? Felix stared at Ace's face, but the other wasn’t giving anything away. And Felix thought he was good a keeping a straight face.

��Maybe,” he answered simply, keeping eye contact much longer than appropriate on purpose.

Ace didn't look away and Felix wondered if he was the only one who noticed the tension in the air.

He always sucked at flirting, even in his native tongue, and now he had to do it in broken English. He thought he'd been pretty obvious, but he still wasn’t sure if Ace was just being friendly. Maybe he wasn’t even into men.

Well, to be fair Felix didn't think he was either, university time experimentation aside. There was something about this particular night, like he was desperate to prove to himself that he was still capable of making decisions for himself.

He’d always thought he wouldn't cheat, but he also knew that if Ace offered, he wasn’t going to say no. If this was the only thing in his life he still had control over, he was going to make the most of it, and he no longer cared if that made him a bad person.

“You know, I've stayed in a bunch of different hotels in the area while I've been here,” Ace mentioned out of the blue, and Felix furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “There's a pretty good one just down the street.”

Felix swallowed, at last realizing what the other was getting at.

“Really?” he asked, trying to mask his suddenly surfacing nerves.

“Yup. Kinda cozy, very… discreet,” Ace chirped casually, like he was talking about the weather and not propositioning a stranger.

Felix cleared his throat and shoved a hand in his pocket, managing to fish out a crumpled twenty euro bill despite his sweaty palms. He slapped the money on the table, hoping the tip would convey his gratitude to David for setting him up for the best night of his life.

Finally, he stood up from the booth and offered Ace a nervous smile that probably made it glaringly obvious just how eager he was.

“Lead the way."

#riconti #felix richter #ace visconti #david king #dweetwrites #dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight #prompt #felix x ace #abusive relationship tw

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faultlessfinish · 4 years

Text

but yeah, “oops! we can’t do anything more than what we’ve done, so people who criticize how we’ve handled minors in the server are just being unfair!” well, nobody asked, but - They don’t have to have an official discord in the first place. Many podcasts don’t. - They don’t have to let minors sign up for their Patreon. 18+ Patreons are a thing. They would have to lose some of that sweet patreon income, though. - They could specifically mention that there are minors in the server in their rules, and say out loud, anywhere, even once, that it’s not appropriate to be sexually explicit around them. - They could actually enforce the “this is a PG-13 server/no NSFW” thing. I don’t know a ton of PG-13 movies that talk about c*m and cucking and p*rn but in fairness, I’m not in the industry like they are. - They could make an opt-in major/minor role thing, so people who don’t want to be talking directly to kids about this stuff would at least have a fighting chance of knowing when they were in a conversation with one. - They could give “MOMS” (as Freddie put it in the relevant conversation) who e-mail the podcast about whether it’s appropriate for their kids an actual answer, instead of sending them some boilerplate he came up with in five minutes by running it past whoever was handy in the discord. (before mocking them behind their backs for having the audacity to contact him and ask instead of listening to the entire thing themselves) - They could set up a mod team that’s adequate to notice and shut it down when people start talking about the sons or other minors sexually. - They as a cast could set the tone by… well damn, this list got long. I’ll put it under a cut, so people who don’t want to read fucked-up nonconsensual and underage shit can give it a pass. And yeah, I can receipt every single one of these things, but the people who aren’t interested in taking this seriously won’t be convinced either way, and it’s a lot of effort to redact screencaps and provide image descriptions.

They could get out of the habit of talking about stuff like whether or not Paeden will ever nut on the podcast or how Glenn would check out Nick’s porn history because it was probably “curated” for him.

Beth could skip out on saying things about how Bella and Dr Cullen have mad sexual tension, or how Ron’s not into ageplay but she is. (And hey, it’s not about underage stuff, but it would also be neat if Anthony could have “and if you and Ron fucked, I’d watch and masturbate” as an inside his head thought.) Anthony, meanwhile, could not say stuff like “I ship the Mayor and Faith,” given that Faith is a teenager at the time and the Mayor is explicitly her father figure. Anthony could drop the whole thing about how he loves it when people call him “daddy.” (Yeah, Anthony, we’re all pretty clear on your kinks at this point. Wish we weren’t. Sorry that you had to back off of making Darryl a literal cuck because you were attempting to look like a good feminist, and yeah, anybody who google image searches the name “Darnell” and sees the hits is pretty clear on which particular racist iteration of that “problematic” fetish he had in mind. It’s literally a name they use to test implicit racist bias in psych research.) If Anthony absolutely can’t stand that Dot, a literal baby, is getting more attention than him then at minimum he could find some other way to express than than calling her “fuck-ugly.”

Anthony could stop threatening to fuck user’s mothers if they disagree with him or inviting them to eat his ass. Particularly given that, like we’ve gone over, there’s no way to know whether he’s saying that to a thirteen year old. He could not call people “eight year old perverts” like that’s an actual thing.

Matt could stop joking about how Darryl studies Grant’s p*rn history to do “research” on being gay, or how Darryl cleans Grant’s bathroom all the time to prevent him from masturbating.

Anthony could roll up to the live listens with something other than “ah, just in time for my cucksmanship.” The community manager of the “PG-13, no NSFW” server could respond to that with something besides a big-eyed blushing face emoji.

The whole cast could stop jumping on every potential innuendo and double entendre that goes past regardless of whether the subject is a kid. (And speaking of the double entendre thing, do they realize they did the “Darryl becomes a barbarian when he comes…” “AHAHA CUMS” joke two episode intros in a row? Doesn’t it hurt when they crack their skulls together like Looney Tunes characters all diving for the lowest-hanging fruit at the same time? Is there a coconut sound effect that Freddie has to edit out in post?) In stuff like the first full ep of the Lord of Chaos arc, where Matt tries repeatedly to get the dads their clothes back so that they can stop being fully dicks out around a little crying girl and two middle-school boys, Anthony could use that much-vaunted “yes, and” to let them get dressed instead of shutting him down on four separate occasions. Count em! [Jean-Baptiste Emmanuel Zorg voice: not one, not two, not three, but FOUR!] Anthony could not go into detail about how if Yeet’s skateboard was biological, it would mean that he really enjoys the sensation of rolling and grinding very much [italics and line breaks from the original] You know, like how you talk about a child?

If Freddie isn’t clear on how pegging works, he could google it instead of asking the all-ages live listen to explain it to him.

Will could not make jokes about how if he catches his child with bootlegged porn, he’ll make them finish it all. They could not use “consent” and “non-consensually” as joke terms all the time in and out of the show, or diminish the impact of words like that by applying them to stuff like punching each other or drawing from the deck of many things. It’s like they figured out how to stop using “r*pe” as a word in r*pe jokes but figured out a loophole.

#reblogging is fine #but i ain't here for rebutting apologists #i know what the fuck i'm about and i'm sick of holding back

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ficsxreaderr · 4 years

Text

Blow off some steam (One shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader. (Modern day AU) Enemies to lovers

Summary: After a hard week at work, Bucky thinks you need to take a break...

A/N: This is for @mushyjellybeans ‘s 250 writing challenge!! I took me a while to write this but I’m quite content with the result! Reblogging and feedback ar3e welcome and appreciated!

Masterlist

Finally Friday, yes, after a very long week of extra hours and getting to the office really early, Friday feels so good. Of course all the efforts you’re making will pay up, because there have been rumors of a potential promotion soon, which would mean you’d get your own office. Today, at 11 AM, all your work was due and from that moment you were technically free, though you had to stay so you complete your hours. Working at an architectural firm has been one of the best experiences ever, even if you don’t have the position you dream of yet, but you certainly feel lucky to have found Steve, your cubicle neighbor, who’s been here a year longer than you have, so he helped you get settled and easily became your friend.

Steve congratulated you once you exclaimed yes! , after you sent all your work.

“Any plans to celebrate?” He asks, standing by your desk.

“I don’t think so, I’m just so tired, I don’t think I can handle a celebration right now.” You lean back in your chair, running a hand through your hair.

“Oh, come on, we should go out to dinner, it’s been a while since the last time.”

“Alright, let’s do that. I’m getting off early today, are you?”

“Yeah, me too, let me know when you’re leaving, okay?”

Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, freshly made by you, obviously, you take a sip that instantly brings you back to life. You sigh deeply and sit on one of the chairs to relax for a moment, which doesn’t last long as you see one of your co-workers walk in, but not any co-worker, it’s Bucky Barnes, the most annoying and the cockiest person you’ve ever met, probably. It’s not like you hate each other, but sometimes being in the same room with that man just drives you insane. He jokes a lot, a lot, and he’s not always that funny. He’s best friends with Steve, but you can’t understand how someone as likeable as Steve can deal with a jerk like Bucky. He calls you pet names, which is the worst part because he says them like he means it but you know he’s just messing with you, he never calls anyone else like that. It doesn’t help that he’s attractive as hell, he’s got these eyes that you’ve seen nowhere else, he’s got a stupidly great sense of style, he talks very smoothly, sometimes making you believe he’s flirting with you, but you quickly erase those thoughts.

As he walks in, you’re not sure if you should just ignore him, for your peace of mind, you do.

“Mornin’, doll.” He says, so you can’t avoid him now. The name makes your stomach flutter, and you hate that it does. He pours himself a cup of coffee, and you hate that it’s the one you prepared.

“Hey.” It’s all you reply, but he stands there and tastes the coffee. “Wow, who made this coffee?” You look up from your phone and take a second to respond.

“I did, is it bad?” You ask, genuinely worried that it’s not as great as you thought.

“No, it’s…amazing, there’s never good coffee here.” He replies with a smirk. “You’ve got talent, doll.”

“I’ve told you not to call me that, but thank you, I’m here if you ever need good coffee.” You go back to reading your phone, and he decides to sit across you.

“So, got any plans for tonight?” He asks, propping his elbows on the table, searching for your eyes. He never stops smirking at you, which makes your lips curl up in a smile, much to your dislike.

“Um, yeah, I’m going to dinner with Steve. Why?” You quirk up and eyebrow, tilting your head in genuine curiosity. Bucky’s heart drops, he’s always believed you have this huge crush on Steve and he wouldn’t blame his friend if he had feelings for you too, which he hasn’t spoken about, but this whole thought is one that scares the hell out of Bucky.

“Oh, that’s too bad, ‘cause I was thinking maybe I could take you out.” He rests his chin on his palm, fixing his gaze on yours.

“Oh, really?” You press your lips in a thin line, suppressing a chuckle. “I thought you couldn’t stand being in the same room as me.”

“What, the constant banters we have? Come on, doll, you know those aren’t real.” He shrugs and leans back on his chair. A very deep part of you wants to believe that, you want to think that he does all those things to call your attention and maybe show some interest, but sometimes it gets too real that you find it hard to believe that he could possibly like you like that. You bite your lip as you consider his offer, not tonight, but someday maybe.

“Well, they feel real, I was thinking you couldn’t deal with me.” You shrug innocently, hiding your face in your coffee mug, and he chuckles.

“Come on, one date.” He clasps his hands over the table, leaning over so he’s closer to you and you swear your heart stops as he stares at you with a smirk.

“I have to think about it, you’ve given me lots of headaches, you know.”

“Nice to know I have some effect on you.” He winks and you narrow your eyes at him, shaking your head. “No, but really, I want to take you out and I will, once you agree.” He nods and stands up, taking his cup of coffee.

“We’ll see, James!” You exclaim as he leaves the room, leaving you with a faster heartbeat and a stupid grin on your face.

“Man, help me out here, I wanted to take her out tonight but she said she had plans with you, I need you to cancel so I can go with her.” Bucky whispers to Steve in the conference room where maybe the walls are made of glass, but at least no one can hear them.

“Alright, but I need a pretty good excuse, what could I say? I was the one to ask her.”

“Tell her Peggy’s called and she has a family emergency and you really need to be with her.”

“Wow, you’re fast at lying.” Steve widens his eyes in surprise.

“Only when I need to.” Bucky holds his hands up in defense. “Would you help?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll help.” Steve says in surrender. “Just don’t be an ass to her, she’s a wonderful girl and if you hurt her I’ll kick your ass.”

“Steve, you would kick anyone’s ass.”

“I know but this time I’d have good reason.”

Checking if you sent the right e-mails for the last time and ordering some folders you had in a bit of a mess in your laptop, you’re still relieved of how much work you finally got done. You focus on making a good organization of your documents and make sure you save everything before turning it off, when Steve appears in front of you, with his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, hey, I’m almost done here and then we can go.” You say, looking up at him with a genuine and wide smile.

“Listen, Y/N, I’m really sorry, Peggy called and she has a family emergency. It sounds serious, I feel like I should really be with her.” His apologetic frown makes you smile at him, it warms your heart at how gentle and caring he is, especially with his fiancé.

“Aw, Steve, you don’t have to apologize, I understand, we’ll do this next week.” You nod reassuringly and he smiles at you.

“But promise me you won’t go back home and watch Netflix all night.” He points a demanding finger at you and you chuckle. “I’m serious! You deserve to blow off some steam!” He says with no amusement in his tone.

“I promise I will not go back home immediately.” You hold one hand up, suppressing a chuckle.

“Thank you.” He nods and smiles.

All your work is officially done, turning off your laptop had never been so satisfying, and you close it slowly, sighing deeply as you do. You start packing up your things when a tall figure appears out of the corner of your eye, knowing damn well it’s not Steve.

“Going home already? It’s kind of early.” Bucky says, glancing at his wrist watch.

“I know but for now I have no other plans, I assume you heard Steve has something important to do.”

“That’s not exactly true.” He takes a step forward, with a toothy grin and certain glow in his eyes. You quirk up an eyebrow in curiosity and bite your lip almost unconsciously.

“Did you have something in mind?” you cross your arms and wait for his answer.

“A few ideas, yes. Come on, have a drink with me at least.” You narrow your eyes at him and he frowns as he waits for you to accept, he expects you to, and you hate that he will get away with it.

“We’re going to dinner but just because I’m really hungry and if I drink first I’ll get drunk with half tequila shot.”

“Oh, we’re doing shots then?” You notice how he widens his eyes and they get some new, different glow in them.

“It was just an example.” You shake your head and take your bag. “Let’s go, I’m starving.” You tilt your head to one side and turn on your heel to walk ahead of him. Bucky’s heart tightens as he sees how easy it was for you to agree, but this isn’t like any of his Friday night conquests, you were the girl of his dreams. He looks down with a blushed face that he’s happy you didn’t see and shakes his head in disbelief before following you to the elevators. He knows this night will be like no other.

“That day I was really upset about something else! I was especially sassy and I needed to relieve some tension!”

“So you decided to just snap at me? What did I have to do with anything?” You ask him, faking offense about the day he was a total jerk to you, more than any other day. He tries to hide his amusement, he knows you’re messing with him and he loves every bit of it. Sitting in a booth at the corner of the restaurant, he props his elbow on the top of the backrest, so his whole body is facing you. You’re not brave enough to mimic his position, you’re afraid you might want to do something that you might regret.

“I’m sorry, doll, I had no reason to treat you like that.” He tilts his head to one side, his eyes searching for yours after he’s taken in all your features. “Sorry, I called you that again.” He looks down for a second, but you reply rather shortly.

“It’s okay.” You make him look at you again. “It’s not that bad but…do you call every other girl like that?” His eyes glisten at your words and he licks his lips before curling them up in a small smile.

“Do you not want me to?” His deeper voice is a delight to hear, you never thought he could get any more attractive, but clearly he still has some tricks to pull.

“I don’t want you to not do anything.” You reply after you scoff, hoping he doesn’t see how your face heats up. “I’d like to know, that’s all. I assume you’re missing out of dozens of hot girls to hit on tonight.” He laughs at that, he loves how you think he could be interested in any girl that’s not you. For many years he was a ladies’ man, he could get any girl he wanted with one or two words and that smile of his. He had enough girls to hook up with, he even had to give some numbers to Steve, who obviously didn’t even call half of them. There rarely was a Saturday morning where there wasn’t a girl on his bed and he loved that but all of that was until he met you. He didn’t have feelings for you at first, but he certainly knew he was into you the moment Steve introduced you and it drove him mad to see how smart and capable you were for your job. He’s always thought you deserve a better position but he’s been afraid to say it to you, not because he doesn’t want a promotion for you, but because he’s used to the constant banters between you two and a compliment would’ve ruined the streak.

“I don’t know, I think I’m a bit rusty.” He shrugs as if he doesn’t care for it anymore.

“I don’t believe that, when was the last time you hit on someone?” You cross your arms and the thought of the answer you might get frightens you. Why the hell does it frighten you?

“Um, do you count?” His shit-eating grin annoys you but it drives you insane, you chuckle at that, hoping it comes out as a sarcastic one.

“You expect me to believe you haven’t hit on anyone else?” He really wants you to believe that, and you kind of do when he’s giving you the most honest and genuine look you’ve ever seen on him.

“I haven’t.” He shrugs again. Both of you stare for a longer time than usual and your smirk turns into a wide smile. “Wow, I’ve never seen you smile like that to me. But I’m lucky now I have.” His voice deepens with the last words and it makes your insides tremble. Your breath hitches, as if goose bumps just ran through your whole body. An unknown feeling takes over you, you glance quickly at his lips, his pink rose lips, those he bites constantly and curls up in the loveliest smiles. He does that too, and he knows you noticed it. Letting out a small breath you lean over to kiss him, resting your hand on his neck, your thumb caressing his stubble at his jawline. He instantly kisses you back, and he can’t fight the instinct of putting a hand over your thigh, right where your skirt ends, and it makes you shiver. He chuckles against your lips at your reaction, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. He slowly slides his tongue along your lower lip, and you welcome it with a low moan.

“Shh, doll, we’re not alone.” He whispers against your lips as he slowly pulls back, leaving you with a low whimper and a deep sigh. You stare at his lazy eyes while you come back to Earth and he smiles at you, not taking his hand off your thigh. “Come home with me.”

You let out a breath and look away for a second, maybe not looking him in the eye will help you make a smart decision. “Buck,” You look at him again. “For a year we’ve been fighting with each other and saying stupid things and now…this happens. Are you sure?” You frown.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’ve never been this sure of anything. Do you want to?” He asks to make you reconsider his request, and it’s so fucking easy to do with him staring at you like that.

“Never thought I’d say it but I really do.” He gives your thigh a squeeze, making you chuckle and peck his lips.

Shifting on the bed, you pull the comforter so it covers your body up to your shoulders, it’s a cold morning; you bend your legs, and sigh as you blink rapidly when the rising sun hits your skin. You know where you are and you can’t help but smile at the thought. You shift on your place so you’re facing him, his relaxed features, his pink lips and perfectly chiseled nose are such a view. He squeezes his eyes before flickering them open and you offer him a small smile, his still lazy eyes take you in for a moment and then he smiles too.

“Wow, I’ve never woken up to something this beautiful.” He murmurs with a deep, sleepy voice. You bite your lip and slide so you’re now closer to him, he puts one arm around you beneath the sheets, his warm hand caressing your back.

“You’re not so bad to look at either.” You add, caressing his cheek with the back of your hand, making him release a lazy chuckle. “If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be in your bed, I would’ve…punched them first…but I would’ve liked the thought.” You shrug, making him chuckle yet again.

“A year ago you would’ve liked the thought? Really?” he frowns in genuine surprise, and with a gentle movement of his hand, he pulls your body closer to his, your noses grazing against each other’s and you peck his lips before answering.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t gonna let you know. Would’ve fed your very annoying ego.” Fixing your gaze on his, you rest your hand where his shoulder meets his neck, and he kisses you, slow and tenderly. Your bare chest against his feels warm and comfortable, as if you’ve belonged to him for so long. Drawing your hand up to his hair, you caress his scalp as you deepen the kiss, tangling your leg with his. He smiles against your lips and slowly pulls away, making you grunt in reluctance. “If you tell anyone that I think you’re the best kisser ever, I’ll get you fired.” He caresses your back, slowly tracing his hand to your butt cheek, making you tremble.

“Kisser? What about last night?”

“One night is not enough to know that.” You bite your lip and he widens his eyes, making you chuckle. “Maybe we’ll need a couple more,” You kiss him. “Fridays.” You wink at him and he bites his lip in anticipation.

“I’m free on Fridays, how about that?” You laugh at him and sit up, covering your chest with the sheet, knowing it’s not that efficient at doing its job but you don’t mind. “No, no, don’t get up yet.” He caresses your thigh as he remains in his position.

“Come here, don’t be such a baby.” You tease him, and he groans as he sits up, leaving the sheets to cover him from the waist down. “Wow, last night I hadn’t noticed you look like that.” You blink a couple of times as you admire his perfectly sculpted chest. He chuckles and his cheeks brush slightly, making you smile. “For a very confident guy, you can’t take a compliment.” You draw your hand to his neck, tracing your fingers along his collarbone and down his chest. He places his hand over yours, searching for your eyes, he takes your hand to his lips and kisses the back of it, making you shiver.

“You’re the only girl that’s ever made me blush, did you know that?” He says, not taking his eyes off you.

“I didn’t.” You shake your head almost automatically, with his gaze tracing your features like that, it’s a bit hard to focus on words. “But it’s good to know.” You caress his cheek with the back of your hand, and he unconsciously tilts his head welcoming your touch. “You’re such a softie.” You chuckle, pecking his lips. He chuckles too, making the corner of his eyes crinkle as he blushes yet again. “Look at that smile, you’re so cute!” You tease him once more, making him laugh now.

“I love how you make me laugh.” He shakes his head in disbelief after he’s stopped laughing, and the smile you’ve been holding for a while now is even harder to erase.

“It’s quite fun to make you laugh, after so many months of wanting to kick your ass.” You shrug, reaching down to take his hand in yours, caressing his knuckles with your thumb.

“Oh, that’s not over, on Monday we’re back to our regular schedule.” You gently slap his chest and he mouths a fake Ouch!, reaching down to your belly to tickle you, making you lean backwards on the bed until he’s over you.

“NONONONO! Stop it!!!!” You scream, trying to grab his hands, but clearly failing at it. He keeps doing it until your face is red from laughter and you can’t breathe anymore. He rests his elbows at the sides of your head, staring down at you with a wide smile. Your chest heaving as you try to catch some air, but you can’t help but smile back at him. “Good, now I know your weakness. Besides me, of course.” He quirks up an eyebrow and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Don’t you have to be stupid somewhere else ?” You ask, reach up to rest your hand at his nape. He reaches down to kiss you, with a gentle touch of his lips against yours, you slowly fall for him with every time this happens.

“Not until four, no.” He frowns sarcastically, making you push him gently and you both sit up on the bed again. You reach to the end of the bed to take his t-shirt from last night and put it on before realizing he’s staring.

“What are you looking at?” You ask, tying up your hair in a ponytail.

“You look really hot in that, you can keep the t-shirt.” He gives you a quick kiss before getting out of bed, letting you admire his shirtless and perfectly sculpted torso, and you bite your lip to tease him. “What are you looking at? This is all yours now.” He says, gesturing with his hand from his chest down, making you throw a pillow at him and he grabs it, throwing it back at you, succeeding at hitting your face.

“You’re such an idiot.” You get off the bed and check your phone, taking the liberty to borrow his charger since you have 10% of battery. He doesn’t bother putting on a shirt, much to your liking, and you walk towards him, hugging his middle. “Hey, um,” you speak in a low voice, looking up at him as he rests his hands on your hips. “I was thinking we could take a shower.” He gives your hips a gentle squeeze and smiles. “And then we could go out for breakfast.” You run your hands up his chest until your arms surround his neck.

“I can’t think of a better way to spend my days.” He brushes his nose against yours, and you smile at his words.

“Days? As in…plural?” He hums and pecks your lips, and he slides his hands down to the back of your thighs, and you jump so your legs hug his waist.

“You’re not getting rid of me so easily, doll.” He says, taking you to the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

| Tagging some members of the fam I think might enjoy this (feel free to ask me to remove your tag)

@sebbbystaaan @chloerinebarnes @stuckonjbbarnes @mushyjellybeans @honeyvbarnes @babblingbonky @mrwinterr @valkyriesryde @mypassionsarenysins @livyourextralife

#Ems250challenge #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #modern day au #marvel #mcu #winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier #disney plus #steve rogers #peggy carter #sam wilson #sebastian stan #captain america #ca: tfa #ca: tws #ca: cw #avengers #avengers: endgame

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queen-rogah · 4 years

Text

Hold Me Close Before I Go (Roger Taylor x Reader)

Summary: In 1982, you are invited to his wedding. He was the love of your life before, but now you're just watching him showing his love with another woman, that is supposed to be you. You can't stop but to remember the things that had happened between the both of you that really struck your heart...

Warnings: THIS IS SOME PURE ANGST HERE, mild fluff, language

Word Count: 6.6k+ words

Note: I have rewatched Enchanted last night and I heard the song again,"So Close" by John McLaughlin and it really touched my angsty heart again with those freaking lyrics! So, I was inspired to make this angsty fic. Enjoy reading and try not to cry.

Ps. Btw, the other woman will be an OC :) aaaand there will be lots of flashbacks

A normal day. The sun is high and bright. Today is going to be one of the best days, you guessed...

Until the mailman stepped foot in your small porch, shouting you have mail as he put the letters and other envelopes in your mailbox and walk away to do his work to the other houses here. You have been living in this small house for almost 5 years, after your sudden breakup with Roger. You and him are sharing a wonderful apartment before, but when everything was a tragedy. You can't help but to do the right thing and leave the house and leave all the memories. He left the apartment behind too and that place have imprinted the memorable things you both did.

Now, you heard he bought a large mansion together with his new girl.

A better one. Better than you. A model slash actress.

You saw them in several paparazzi pictures together and in the newspaper. Ever since those pictures came out, you never set your eyes on the news page of a newspaper. Even on the television, when you hear their names, you immediately shut it off. It's so ridiculous to feel that it's been years and it's obvious he moved on about you, but you...there's still a part of your heart that really belongs to him.

And you still wear the golden heart necklace he gave to you in your first anniversary before. This is the only piece of memento left with you that holds a lot of memories.

You finished your cup of coffee and stepped outside your house, breathing in the summer breeze of London. You took all your mail from the box and put it on your coffee table. Some are letters from your parents, some are flyers from restaurants with coupons, some are letters from your boss at work and a gold envelope.

Wait, a gold envelope?

You set aside the other letters and hold the golden envelope and look at the back view of it with your full name in a beautiful handwriting. Your brows are furrowed, still staring at this paper in confusion.

Now, you snapped out of your confusion and opened the envelope wherein you smell a very nostalgic scent. And that made you stop and remember what that smell is...

You heard the front door opened to see him walking inside with a tired look of his face. He finally came back on tour and he went straight home to you, just like he promised.

"Hi love." He rasps, smiling at you as he sets his thing down the floor and open his arms for you to enter in.

Enjoying his warm welcome embrace and indulging his scent you truly love so much.

"God, I miss you so much Roger. I always love your perfume..." You grin at him as he caressed your hair. Then he suddenly hoist you up, carrying you by your thighs and you immediately wrapped your legs around his torso.

"I miss you too my love." He smiles and pulls you in a passionate kiss, now walking his way in your bedroom to continue his action.

You're gripping the necklace as the flashback ended in your mind. The scent coming from this envelope is helping you remember him, after all those years that you want to forget him, but with just this simple scent. It goes right back to you.

You soon pull out the letter inside the envelope, reading the contents and slammed it on the table. Your hands covered your face as you try to forget that you read that.

You're just thinking of him. You're just remembering your good times with him.

And now you just read the letter coming from the golden envelope saying, You are cordially invited to the wedding of Roger Meddows Taylor and Loreleigh Charlotte Jameson...

They will also held the wedding at Southwark Cathedral, where Roger promised you where he will marry you. And the reception will be at The Decorium. A very well-known reception venue.

After all the years of no contact from him, no calls, letters, whatsoever and now he have the nerve to invite you in his upcoming wedding--that is happening next saturday already.

But you're going to do this, for him and his bride. And after that, you will officially move on about him and even plan to give back the necklace to him. Your hands again held the necklace as a single tear fell down to your cheeks.

You're going to give back the necklace to finally forget him.

...

"He invited me ma," Your words came out as a whisper through the phone with your mother listening to you. She's been the only person that you share everything with and she knows how much you loved Roger since the beginning of your relationship with him. She's the first one who knew that you liked him, she's the first one who knew that he finally became your boyfriend, she's the first one who knew that you're moving in with him and she's the first one who knew that he broke your heart into a million pieces.

"Y/N, if he invited you, he wanted to see you there, maybe wants a support that that is his choice, to marry that woman..." Your mother replied and the word support coming out of her mouth made your choke in your tears.

"I don't think he'll receive get a single support from me ma, but he'll receive a proper goodbye from me," You responded, wiping away your tears. "I actually think he'll be the one for me, that we will also get married someday, turns out everything was just a joke to him. He just...he threw away my love and that love I gave was one of my best...and he just wasted it..."

He won't answer your calls. The phone was just ringing...constantly.

You gave up as you put down the phone, leaving this telephone booth and finally stepped inside the bus to go back home. You came from your parent's house for almost a whole month to spend time with them. Roger was left busy with all those interviews and different invites of television shows to perform on, but he's been telling you that he misses you always and it's sad that you're not with him in the house.

He's lonely without you.

After an hour from Canterbury to London, you took the cab back home to him. The cab came to a halt as it reached your destination. You handed him the fare and took your things, walking towards the front door of your shared apartment. You took your keys out and unlocked the door, seeing that no one is around.

That's why the phone is just constantly ringing to you earlier.

And it's already 8 in the evening, he's not home.

The scent of Roger circulates around the bedroom as you throw yourself on the mattress. Blankly staring at the ceiling. Your bags are still in the living room, you still have your winter clothes on.

He didn't say to you that he's going out, maybe with the other boys or some friends.

You took off your jacket and your scarf, soon standing up from the bed and made your way towards the kitchen to get a glass of water or something to drink. Then you found a beer inside the fridge as you opened and drink it.

Then suddenly you heard the door creak open from the living room as a smile appeared on your lips. You set the beer down on the counter and step out of the kitchen, only to be greeted by Roger, holding another woman--maybe a drunk woman--in his arms where you saw those marks around his neck, even though it's so dark in this room.

You saw it.

And your heart breaks.

"Y/N...I--"

"Fucking save it Roger, I don't want your excuses." You shut him off and turn your heel away as you march your way back to the bedroom to take your jacket and your scarf on the bed.

Roger followed you behind, leaving the dumbfounded young girl in the living room. You heard his footsteps approaching towards the door to see him out of breath.

"Y/N, I thought you'll come home by next week, I--"

"--Yeah Roger, you thought! You didn't answer my calls today because you're not home, and if you just answer my calls, you could know that I'm coming home early to you. Or if you answered my calls and knowing that I will come home early, maybe I'll just ruin your plans with that girl in our living room." You argued and walk by past him, but he caught your wrists, "What--Roger, let go of me!."

"Y/N, please...I'll make it up to you, just...don't go. You're the love of my life..." He cried and you hate seeing him cry.

"I gave all myself to you Roger. All my love and my life, but you just throw it all away in just one night."

Then you left him.

"I understand dear, it's just...give that man another chance, only for one day. If he wants to see you there, let him see you, and if he wants to talk to you, let him talk to you. Only for that day dear, his special day." She said and that made you fell into a silence.

"Okay ma. And by the way, can I borrow a dress from you? I don't have a proper dress for the ceremony." You dryly chuckled.

"Sure dear. What time will you come over?." She asked. You look over to the clock hanging on your wall to see it's already 2 in the afternoon.

"I'll come over right now." You said, hanging up on her as you jog your way up to your room to change your clothes. You took your car and house keys and finally left the house, driving towards your parent's house.

...

Your mother handed you the sixth dress from her closet to try on if it's decent for the ceremony. The others are just boring, too revealing and too overdressed to look but this dress that you're now trying on feels like it's the one you'll be wearing now. Your father was also watching you both from the door frame of the room, him reminiscing like it's your homecoming night before when you're in highschool back in the days.

"I like this one! This is the one!." You said inside the bathroom as you stepped out and show them the dress.

"You look perfect my dear, you can pair that with silver heels and diamond earrings," she said while smoothing out the dress on you, like she always do when you're wearing a dress and suddenly stare down on the golden heart necklace, "That can be the perfect necklace for the dress." She slightly smiled.

You sighed and looked down on the ground, "I plan on giving it back to him on the day of his wedding. I don't deserve this thing anymore, and...he should give it to her, maybe she'll look beautiful with it." You painfully smiled at the thought. Hearing his voice and imagining him giving this necklace to her and complimenting her looking so beautiful, like he did when he gave it to you before.

By the time you heard his car pulled up by your place, because you invited him to stay the night with you and just watch movies and cuddle with him, your giddy self jump up from the couch and opened the door, seeing him walking up to your door. You welcomed him with an embrace and a sweet kiss, your hands came to his long blonde hair as you pull away from each other, inviting him in.

"I'm sorry I'm late, me and the boys just had this emergency meeting with John Reid, about the upcoming third album. We'll have a meeting too with the EMI producer by the last week of this month too. Everything is just going insane love..." He sighs and you cupped his face, looking into his tired eyes.

"Then you should rest my love, I promise I'll make you breakfast next morning, I have to give everything back from what you did last week to me." You grin at him as he wrap his hands around you.

"Thank you Y/N, you're the best." He smiles and pull you in a kiss again.

But you pull away from him, "By the way, do you know what today is?." You put your hands around his neck as he think about it for a couple of minutes.

And it's making you feel sad.

He forgot it.

"Is it already September...?." He said with doubt as you huff out the air from your lungs and took a step back from him.

"Yes, you're right it's already September but...do you know what happened this day?." You gave him a hint again as he furrowed his brows at you. "Seriously Roger? You've forgotten it?."

You gave up and made your way inside the kitchen to take out your disappointment, but then you heard his footsteps closer to you and stood before you, looking at his hand now holding something.

"I'm just playing with you love, of course I remember everything this day. I remember you in that pub, wearing that beautiful red dress and your favorite fur coat. It's our third date and we go to the same pub where I first saw you. I complimented you in your dress, you teased me throughout the dinner and you ended up in my bed, like you always do after every of our dates," he said and you blushed when he mentions about you sleeping with him every after the dates with him, which is true, "And then I asked you to be mine while we're both in bed after sharing that intimate time with you. Of course I remember our anniversary and it's the most memorable day of my life."

You didn't said anything and just pull him in a passionate kiss again, "Just don't do that again Roger. It almost made me hate you." You pout your lips.

"I promise." He chuckles and soon showed you the red box in his hands as you gazed on it.

"What is it Roger?." You excitedly asked.

"Well open it."

You slowly open it and reveal a beautiful golden heart necklace before you.

"It's beautiful Roger." You beam, getting the necklace out of it's box and look at the heart. It's simple but it's so beautiful.

"Just remember that it's my heart that you stole it from me," he smiles.

"You cheeky bastard." You laughed.

He laughs with you too, "Well, it'll look more beautiful when you wear it." He said.

"Will you...?." You gave him the necklace, asking to put it on you.

"...Of course love." He mumbles as you turn your back on him, letting him wear the necklace on you. Locking it and also kissing your neck before you turn around for him.

"So? How do I look?." You grinned.

"Beautiful..." He replied.

The flashback made your heart even hurt you more. So you made your way back inside the bathroom and change up to your ordinary clothes earlier. You fold the dress and put it in a bag as you stayed with your parents until dinner and drive home safely with doubts in your head.

Asking yourself while looking at the dress inside it's bag, Am I really going to face him after all those years? Am I ready to talk to him again?

Those words are in your head until you fell asleep in your bed.

Alone.

...

The day of the wedding came. The day was perfect. The sun is up and bright. The sky clear.

You lastly put on the diamond earrings before looking at yourself in the mirror. Wearing this powder blue dress of your mother's to go to your ex-boyfriend's wedding. You took a deep breathe before plastering a smile, practicing on what you'll look like if you'll see him later. But the smile really shows something, it's not genuine happiness.

It's genuine sadness.

That's why you lost that smile again and look away from the mirror. You took your bag with your car keys, house key, and your wallet inside as you took your favorite fur coat, that Roger knows, and finally stepped out of the house. The drive to the cathedral wasn't bad at all and there was no heavy traffic. When you arrived there, you saw different people coming out from their cars and going inside the cathedral while wearing those fashionable dresses and suits. You awkwardly followed the other people inside the cathedral and saw the venue.

The pews are decorated with white roses, the red carpet on the aisle has little petals of white roses too and the altar was also decorated with white roses, scented candles and other beautiful flowers you can't really name. You are surprisingly early as you sat on the pew far behind so that nobody would ever see you or talk to you. You just have to watch.

But you failed until, "Y/N?." A voice came from behind you.

You turn around to see John Deacon standing before with his own family. His facial expression changed into pure happiness when he finally saw you again in the flesh and waste no time hugging you tightly. You hugged him back as you missed this person who's been your friend since college. You can't believe you abandoned him for years too, just because of the breakup.

"Bloody hell, I can't believe it's you Y/N...you're here...in Roger's wedding." His voice lowered down when he said those words as you just gave him a small smile.

"Gotta show him my support." You murmured, saying a complete lie to him.

"If you say so. The boys are coming too and I heard Roger is finally on his way. Freddie is his best man though..." He chuckles.

"Yeah, I knew..." Your voice cracked a bit, hoping he didn't noticed that.

"By the way, come join us with Brian up front. You're too far back Y/N..." Deacy held out his hand to you but you shake your head.

"No thank you Deacy, I can handle myself here. I'm still going to see you again in the reception." You put up a smile, the same smile you saw on your face through the mirror and he nod in reply.

"Okay Y/N, see you there." He said, coming close again as he pulls you in a hug again, planting a soft kiss on your temple before making his way to the front pew with his family and Brian.

You took a deep breath, trying not to break down and cry here. You felt his sympathy and it really bores you. Everyone does that. Even to yourself.

You saw the pity in his eyes. And you hated it.

The guests came in one by one until the cathedral is fully packed. You hide yourself in this pew with the other guests you didn't know, maybe they are the bride's family or friends and you're drowning in their different stories of the bride and Roger being perfect with each other. You also heard rumors about them only doing this to feed the media, but you didn't listen to those things. Roger would never do any of this effort with just a fake one. You knew he loves that woman.

And why would they gossip those things in their wedding day? And in a goddamn cathedral?

Two-faced people.

Their obnoxious sounds stopped when you heard the soft melodic sound of the organ played in the background. The people stood up, you also followed suit as you finally saw him. His arms around his mother while they walk down the aisle. He's wearing that white suit and white pants, and he have a white rose attached on his suit. This is the first time you ever saw his newly cut hair in person, since the last time you saw him is he still have a long blonde hair that you loved you twirl and pull.

Your stare at him lasted for a couple of minutes until he was now in front of the altar. They closed the doors once again as you ready yourself to see his bride. Closing your eyes to compose and try to calm down.

But then you suddenly imagined yourself, standing behind those closed doors. Your bridesmaids fixing the train of your wedding gown as they also fixed your hair. You can feel your heartbeat getting a little bit faster in so much excitement and a bit of fear. You watch the bridesmaids march inside the cathedral with their flowers and your maid of honor. And then you're left behind here, breathing in and out. You heard the bridal march music played as the doors finally opened for you, seeing him by the distance, enjoying himself seeing you walking down the aisle, steps away in becoming his girl, forever.

Then you open your eyes.

The imagination stops.

The doors are opened and you saw her walking down the aisle with that beautiful dress and a beautiful bouquet of flowers. You gaze at her, almost thinking like she's an angel. That's why Roger picked her. She's really beautiful.

She's really beautiful

...

The reception looked also familiar like in the cathedral. Multiple tables are around the place as you found your table with some new faces again, thankful that you're not sharing the table with those people in the cathedral earlier. The newly wed couple entered the place as you see her wearing a different kind of dress, a white body con dress that really hugged her curves so well and Roger also wore a different looking white suit and his shirt underneath has it's few buttons undone.

The people clapped for them.

You did it too.

"Um hi," the woman across you wants your attention as you looked at her, giving her a questioning look, "You know, I almost know everyone in this room except for you, whom are you here for...?."

You mentally rolled your eyes at her nonsense question. This is why you hated in sharing tables with someone you barely even know.

And Roger kept the relationship private before. Only the boys and your families knew you're both dating.

You didn't want the spotlight always following you as the legendary Roger Taylor's girlfriend before.

"Groom." You replied to her then shoots her a small smile before looking away again while drinking on your wine silently.

"Cousin? Friend? Ex-girlfriend?." She still goes on. A smirk appeared on her lips after mentioning about the ex-girlfriend thing.

Now you're officially uncomfortable.

"Just a friend," You replied back as you finished your drink before standing up from your chair, "Would you excuse me, I will go to the bathrooms." You pose a fake smile and walk away from the table.

You didn't actually go to the bathrooms, you just stood by the corner and lean against the wall while watching the people enjoy the whole evening. You took a champagne flute again from a roaming waiter and consume the drink in just one gulp. You heard the host saying that the speeches for the newly wed couple will be up next after all these dancing. You sighed deeply and immediately regretted that you came here, after that nosey woman in your table and now you have to listen to their speeches. Your heart's been so broken ever since their vows earlier.

You think it's finally the end of your night here.

You turn your heel around, ready to go, until you bump on someone that came from the direction of the bathrooms. You quickly apologized and looked up at the person as your eyes widened in surprise.

"Y/N?." He eyed you from head to toe with a huge smile on his face.

"Hi...Freddie." You responds as he lets out a chuckle before hugging you tightly in his arms. You have missed his embrace everytime that he'll see you before. Now years have passed, you are still enjoying his hugs.

"Oh darling, where have you been? I fucking missed you!." He happily exclaims while still keeping you in his arms.

You pull away from him to see him in the eyes, "I still live here in London, and I will never ever abandon this city. How about you? I heard you're now called as a rock legend." You smirked at him.

"Oh that's nothing dear, I know everyone calls Freddie Mercury a goddamn rock legend." His confidence went up again as you chuckled in his remark, "By the way, Roger...really invited you? Are you and him are already in good terms?." He asked.

You took an intake of breath, "Honestly, I don't know if we're actually good or not...but yeah, he invited me. He send the invitation to my mailbox Fred, so that means he also knows where I live right now." You replied to him.

"Roger has it's own ways, especially a way to you." Freddie answered you back and his words froze you.

"It's been 5 whole years Freddie, why would he still be thinking about me? And he have that beautiful woman already..." You look over to them having fun in front.

"Leigh is beautiful, we know that, but for me you're still the best Y/N. You're far more better than Leigh." Freddie said. His words sent you to the state of either happiness or sadness because your tears are building up again as you silently cried to him, letting out your weight off your shoulders.

Freddie comforted you until you've come down. He asked if you want to sit with them in the front table, which you don't want you happen, but he still wants to push you with him. So you did go with him.

Sitting just in front of them.

You're on full view just for him.

Freddie hold your hand tightly while walking towards their table. You see Brian and his wife, Deacy and his family, and other people who's close to Roger in the table. You're shy to come close, but Freddie surely doesn't notice you wanting to back out.

"I'm back darlings, and look who I found." Freddie announced in their table as they all looked at you, seeing their reactions.

Deacy already saw you in the cathedral, that's why he's just smiling widely at you now exposing yourself tonight. And Brian, he quickly stood up and pull you in his arms. You and Brian were friends ever since college and because of him you've met Roger.

"Where have you been Y/N? It's been years..." Brian whispered in my ear as you pull away from his hug.

"I'm always here in London Bri, I just...I just have to lay-low for all those years, after what happened..." You mumbled. They soon gave you a vacant seat before asking more questions about you and your life without Roger. It's sincere that they haven't brought out about your sadness without him, they just looked and asked you on the bright side.

Your chatters died down when the speeches are now starting. You gulped and just looked on your hands resting on your lap, not wanting to look in front.

You always heard the same words from each of their family and friends.

Congratulations to the both of you!

You both are going to have a wonderful time together!

You will have such beautiful babies!

After those people speaking through the microphone, they called up on Freddie who's sitting beside you as they all looked at him. That's the time you lift up your head and saw him looking directly at you in this very table. His look towards you was full of relief and a hint of genuine happiness. He finally saw you. Roger finally saw you.

You tear your eyes away from him and looked at Freddie who's now holding the mic to give out his speech, "Roger has been my friend ever since my college years. He's born to be a rockstar, the best drummer and has the best falsetto..."

The people laughed.

You also laughed.

Roger saw that. His heart swells.

"...but underneath that wild blonde hair and personality on stage, like me, I knew Roger as a very loving person. A compassionate and caring person, and I can see that to every person he truly loves," Freddie said as he turn his look to you, referring about his love to you instead of his love to his bride.

And that made you inhale deeply and looked down on your hands again, stopping your tears to fall down.

"And I can already really see it right in front of me, see?." Freddie saves himself as he chuckles. You looked up again to see her leaning on his shoulder and suddenly pull him in a soft kiss.

They look very in love. Like you both did before.

"Anyways, I am now to congratulate to this couple, don't forget to get me as your children's godfather because I'm going to spoil the bloody hell out of them. Roger and Leigh, I love you both, wishing you all the very best." Freddie smiles at them and finally gave back the microphone before going back to his seat beside you.

You felt Freddie's hand intertwined to your hand as you pressed your lips in a hard line and lean your head on his shoulder. You really missed him being your listener and your comforter.

"Y/N?." Freddie spoke amidst of your silence.

"Yeah?."

He looked at you, "You deserve anything and you deserve a proper love someday."

...

After all those messages, the dancing continues. A disco song was playing in the speakers and see the people having fun and dancing to the rhythm of the music. Roger and his bride were also dancing along, remembering Roger couldn't dance, so he's just holding her while she's letting herself loose in the music. You looked at the time and see it's already approaching to midnight.

You really want to go home and sleep and eat yogurt already.

But, "Y/N, will you dance with me?." Brian asks and he stood up from his chair and offers his hand to you.

"I'm not in the proper mood Bri..." You apologized to him as you showed him a tired smile.

But he didn't listen to your excuse.

"I'll set up the mood for you. Maybe this will be our last meeting and you'll be gone again..." He pouts his lips as you groaned, giving in for him.

You held his hand as he lead you in the dancefloor, just in time a slow song played as he showed you a small smile before pulling you close to him. Your hand resting on his shoulder, his hand on your waist as he slowly sway you around the slow beat of the music.

"Is Chrissy totally okay with this...position?." You awkwardly asked him as he lets out a dry chuckle.

"Chrissy trusts you too. She knows you're one of my closest friends." Brian explains.

"Okay," You smiled and looked up on him, "I really appreciate you all tonight, of how you welcomed me in your group again, of how you welcomed me in your arms and your comforts. I know it's been years after that incident and knowing that you guys panicked about me going missing for days..."

"It's been a week Brian! No one ever saw her anywhere! Even her own bloody mother doesn't know where she is!." Roger shouts at the guitarist who's as concern as him. He slammed the phone back to it's box after just speaking to your mother wherein she's also panicking over her daughter's vanishing.

"If it wasn't for what you did to her, she won't be running away and be missing for a couple of days!." Brian argued back to him. Freddie and Deacy are only sitting on the couch. Silent.

Roger fell in silent after what Brian just said.

"I can't apologize for what you did to her Roger. She's one of the most important people for me and I trusted you to take care of her heart before when I brought you two together. I thought you changed for her, turns out you actually didn't..." Brian hissed at the drummer before walking out of the room.

You disappeared for a week and three days without anyone knowing where you are. You didn't informed them that you went to Munich and stayed there to have a silent life but after those days, you went back home to your mother and eventually found a house in London. Only your mother knew you have the house.

You stopped in front of the house you bought with all your savings and some of your mother's help. You have your things inside the car and brought them in one-by-one, the furnitures will come by shortly too. You stood inside and fell into a deep silence, your eyes looking around.

"I deserve this fresh start..."

"...and I'm sorry that I let you guys worry so much about me. I ran away to bring out the sorrow in me and for what he did to me." You finished your sentence as you felt his heartbeat became a bit erratic.

He sighed, "Enough with this dramatic thing, I saw you laugh earlier and I'm going to keep that smile on your face...by doing this..." Brian said as he suddenly spins you around and did some simple waltz with him.

Until you heard someone cleared their throat and you both stopped dancing around to see Roger, finally standing before you with his hands behind him. He does that when he's nervous.

"Hey Rog, can we help you with something?." Brian asked, still has his hands around you. You're just quiet in front of him, not knowing how to greet him or else.

"Can I...dance with Y/N?." He politely asked and that your heart skipped a beat as Brian slowly let go of his touch to you and looked down on you.

"Y/N? Is it oka--"

"--yes Bri, it's okay. I'll let Roger dance with me." You cut him off as he nod his head before walking away from him and you. You can't look into his eyes as you just waited for his next move. The next song finally came in and it's still a slow one. (imagine "So Close" playing) You're breathless, shaking, nervous as your eyes look around the room, looking for the bride.

"She knows." Roger said.

"Knows...what?." Your eyes slightly widened.

That you have history with him?

"That I'm dancing with you," He soon took your hand on your side and put it on his shoulder as he slowly pull you close. The nostalgic scent of his hit you the wave of reminiscence and longing. After almost 5 whole years, this is the first time you'll stand so close to him again. You tried to stop your tears but some already fell down but you automatically wipe it away.

"Did she know?..." You asked him.

"No, she doesn't." Roger replied to you.

You didn't replied to anything but just continue swaying you around in this dancefloor. When the music suddenly reached to it's instrumental part, you saw his smile that you missed so much as he twirls you around. You let out small giggles here and there that's why he have the biggest smile right now.

"I miss that laugh. I miss that smile. I miss all of you..." Roger whispered in your ear as he continues swaying you with him in the music.

You really want to tell him that you missed him so much too but what if someone will hear you both. That will surely ruin his wedding day.

"You are one of the people who completes my life but when you betrayed me, a part of me really have a hole. A hole that you left me after what you did. I didn't take a revenge on you and did some horrible things because you don't deserve that," You muttered and you finally reached on the nape of your neck to unlock your necklace then slide it off you.

"Y/N, what are you--"

"--give me your hand Roger." You said. He was hesitant at first, but he knows that you're serious already.

He showed out his palm as you lay the golden heart necklace on it, "This is what you deserved. I'll let you remember what you did to me when you gave me this necklace and do the same thing for her. Give the necklace to her...for me." Tears soon ran down your cheeks as you wipe it away again.

"But this is your's Y/N. I gave this for you and only for you." He said while trying to give back the necklace to you, but you're stopping him.

"I don't deserve that necklace anymore. No one will ever say that the necklace will look beautiful on me anymore, at least if you give that to her, you'll compliment her everyday with that beautiful necklace." You replied, your hand playing along the thin chains of the necklace laying on his hand. Then your fingers ran through his palm, so calloused and rough from all the years of drumming for Queen.

"Now hold me close before I go." You whispered in his ear as he held you again, swaying with the music. You have your head resting upon his chest to hear his heartbeat.

"I love you always Y/N." He whispers to you. You remember those words making you happy and contented, but when you heard it right now, you just felt your heart break and feel that pain that never goes away.

You lift your head to him and look into his eyes that is dried from his tears, "I love you too always Roger," You choked on your tears and took a step back from him.

"...and goodbye." You mumbled before you walk away from him. Away from the crowd and away of this venue. You didn't said your goodbyes to the others, you just walk past straight the people who's also dancing and out in the parking lot. You got inside your car and turn the ignition on before you drive away from this place, crying and still hoping if everything will be okay for you.

Hoping you'll be okay.

Hoping your heart to be stitched up into whole again.

_____________________________ this is the reader's dress in the wedding:

This fic turned out to be a long one and a very very angsty one because I only planned the fic to only have the scenes in the wedding ceremony and the reception area.

Hope you liked this fic!

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #roger taylor angst #queen band #queen fanfiction #queen fic #queen imagines #queenrogah's fic

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