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slythraco · 3 years

Note

Hello there can you please do a Tom Felton x reader imagine where they’ve been dating since they worked together on the Harry Potter movies and all of their old co stars are there and he proposes? Thank you so much

Author’s Note: aaaaaah my first request ! i’m so excited !!! ok calm down bro :’D I put my heart into it ! i hope you’ll like it ! Let me knooow (I excuse myself if there are some mistakes, English is not my mother tongue...don't hesitate to point it out to me so that I can improve !)

Warnings: Maybe one or two swears ? Otherwise it’s just major fluff

Details: The text parts in this resolution are flashbacks ! And Lucy is the name of your character in the Harry Potter movies

Word count: 3.6K

Masterlist

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"Babe ! I'm ready !" You shout from your bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror for the last time. Tonight was a big night, you and the entire cast of the Harry Potter saga reunite to celebrate the 19 years of the franchise.

Your head is spinning when you think back, 19 years old ! You were only 11 when you first appeared, you made amazing friends and you met you awesome boyfriend, Tom Felton, there too. You guys have been together for a while now but you’re still in love like the first seconds after admitting your feelings to each other.

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

"Go !" Shout David to indicate you to start acting, what you had to do was easy, look around you, looking scared then see Draco in the other side of the hallway and then run to jump in his arms.

This is what you did, as soon as you catch Tom's gaze, you felt weak, you knew he was acting his role but you couldn’t help but find him way too much attractive with his messy grey hair and the fake dust on his face who could resist him ?

"Draco !" You screamed before running towards him as fast as you can, him meeting you halfway. You quickly warp your arms around his neck as he slips is owns around your waist. "I thought you were..." You said in a whisper like your script told you to do it. "I'm right here Lucy...don't worry" he gently rubs your back as if to reassure you, or at least reassure your character.

You slowly raise you head to look in his intense gaze, his gaze that suddenly disarms you. A strong urge to kiss him takes you by surprise, your eyes capsizing between his eyes and his lips. But you weren't supposed to do it, all you had to do was saying one last line before the scene ends.

You tried to fight back that urge, but you lost when your lips finally crashed on his. Surprisingly, he leans into it. You put all the love you had for Tom into it, for all these years you thought of the exact moment you'll have the power to kiss him.

Your embrace was passionate but not rough, it was delicate, as he put his hand on your cheek like he wanted to never let go of your lips, you realise that this kis isn't between Draco and Lucy but between Tom and Y/N.

After a few seconds, Your lips are finally unhooked, to your great misfortune. Tom places his forehead against yours while you are both out of breath.

"Cut !" Your director screamed, but you were still looking into each other eyes like nothing around matters. The hands of David in you arm brings you back to reality as Tom steps back. "You guys, what a surprise !" The director said, suddenly you realise what just happened, 'I'm dead' you thought to yourself. "David...I'm so sorry !"

David looks at you, confused. "Y/N what are you talking about ! It was amazing ! That kiss was...WOW ! It's perfect, we don't even need to do another take ! Good job Y/N !" And he leaves, like nothing happened. You then look at Tom, he looks as confused as you. You don't really know if he kissed you back for the scene or if he actually wanted to kiss you.

"Tom...I-" He cuts you before you can say anything else. "If you knew since when I waited for you to do this" You eyes widen when you hear his words. "W-what ?" You mumbled.

"You finqlly kissed him !" You heard a voice behind you, Emma was standing right behind the camera pulling her thumbs up at you, which made you both laugh. It was the beginning of a long adventure.

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

Tom enters the bathroom, he can't help but smile when he sees you in your little red dress. It was a pretty basic one, but it suit your forms beautifully. You were putting your last coat of mascara while he stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "You look amazing my love" He whisper against the skin of your neck, making you shiver. He plant a kiss right behind your ear, making you heart skip a beat, he knows damn well all the weak spots on your body. "Tom..." you moan very slightly, bitting your lips as you look at the reflection in the mirror. God he looks so sexy in his 3 pieces suit. "Mmmh..?" He just said as a response. "We're gonna be late..." You complain.

"I'm sure they'll understand..." You giggle when you hear him, but you stop his kisses by turning to face him. "No ! There's no way I'll let you ruin my hair and makeup after I spent 3 hours making it !" You say authoritatively while looking him straight in the eye. He places his warm hands on your hips before sliding them slowly on your ass. "You'll look beautiful anyway Darling." He whispers before bending over to place his lips on yours, kissing them with delicacy but hunger at the same time.

You hands find their way to his neck, putting your body closer to his. Before you have the time to do anything, he grabs your thighs and lift you up to put you on the sink, letting a little cry of surprise coming out your mouth. He massages you thighs and hips, pushing his body between your legs. But he suddenly breaks the kiss. "Okay...let's go now before I can't stop myself." You giggle a little bit before jumping of the sink, you pull on your dress to put it back in place. You chuckle when you see that Tom has lipstick on his lips.

"Tom, come here" He turns to you and you wipe the lipstick on his lips with you tongue. "Remind me to not kiss you tonight." He said, a teasing smile on if face. "You're not gonna last 10 minutes without kissing me !" He looks at you, with a defiant look in his eyes. "Wanna bet ?"

"Okay, i bet a restaurant that you will kiss me before the end of the night !" At this point, Tom already knew he would lose but little did you know. "Deal !" You both laugh as you finally leave the bathroom and head to the front door of your house.

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

"Okay love...you can open your eyes now !" Tom said, impatient for you to see your gift.

It was the anniversary of your second year as a couple, Tom wanted to mark the date. You slowly open your eyes and you face a little case wrapped in a gift wrap paper, you eyes widen for a second. "What is it ?" You asked, curiously. "Open it !" He said, excited. You gently rip the wrap paper and discover a little box made out of wood. Your eyes quickly met his before you open it. "Come on !" You giggle, his excitement is probably bigger then yours and it's really adorable to see. You finally open it, in it, a small key attached to a tag. "A key..? Mmmmh...It's the key to your heart because i stole it a while ago !" He laugh as he come close to you. "Read the tag darling..."

You as he says and pick the tag to read what it says. '21736 Dumetz Rd, Woodland Hills, CA 91364'. You place your hand on your mouth when you realise what it is. "Tom..." He looks at you with a proud smile, you can't help but jump into his arms and let a few tears drop on your cheeks. "How...how did you remembered ?"

Indeed, you talked to him about this house a few month ago, you only said that you liked it, in total innocence without imagining buying it for you. "I called the owner as soon as you talked to me about it, i was looking for a way to upgrade our relationship to another level. I-" He stops for a second, cupping your face in between his hands as you place your hands at his both sides. "I mean, you already spend most of your nights at my house so it won't change a lot but just the fact that..." he takes the key in his hand and slightly shake it in front of you. "This, I put your name on the contract, it's OUR house. And I can't wait to live the rest of my life with you in it."

Let's face it, you were crying like a baby, this man, 'he's going to be the death of me' you thought. You pull him to hug him, you hug him so tightly you wonder if you're asphyxiating him. "I love you so much Tom...you can't even imagine" He lays a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I love you too Y/N, more than anything." He said in a whisper. "I bought you a fucking t-shirt !" You said before slightly laughing. "And I'm sure I will love it !"

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

"Be a good girl, Willow !" You said as you rubs the head of the black labrador. Tom smile as he opens the door. "Let's go !"

You turn around and finally leave the house, Tom takes your hand and you walk towards your car. "I can't wait to see everyone ! I've missed them to much !" You cheers, jumping around, all excited.

•••

After what felt like ages to you to get there, Tom finally knock on the door of the giant house of Emma. She was hosting the party for tonight. The door opens on Jason Isaacs, your fictional step-father. "Ah father !" Cheers Tom before lean into his arms, you follow the gest right after him. "Enter kids !" He said, you follow behind Tom who still had his hand in yours.

Suddenly you heard cheering at your right. "Heeeyyy ! The lovebirds are here !" Matthew screamed, making you laugh a little. You turn and see everyone, Emma, Rupert, Daniel, Bonnie, Matthew of course, Jason, Natalia, EVE-RY-ONE. A big family reunion.

Matthew quickly runs into us, each of us hugging each other quickly. "Hey Matthew, can I talk to you for a sec ?" Tom asked, you grinned a little, why does he wants to talk to him, in private ? Weird. Tom sees your interrogative gaze, He turns to put a kiss on your cheek and whisper something in your ear. "I won't be long I promise, go join the other I'll be right back" You nod your head, still a little suspicious. "I love you" he said before disappearing with Matthew in the garden.

You turn to the group, sitting in the living room, eating a bunch of amuse-bouche. You hug everyone, until you find Emma. "Here, this is for you" You hand her the bottle of wine you were holding since you arrived. "Oh thank you Y/N !" She kiss your cheek and invite you to open it in the kitchen. So you follow her.

"Soooo...how is it going with Tom ?" She asks curiously, of course she would ask you. She's always been supportive of your relationship with Tom, your number one fan. "Still amazing !" You blush a little. Emma pour the liquid in two fancy glasses while your looking at her. "Aaawww...you guys are just too cute." You roll your eyes at her remark.

Helen (McCrory) enter the kitchen and you smile at her. "Helen ! Want a glass ?" Emma asked. "With pleasure ! You were talking about Tom aren't you ?" You nod a 'yes' in response. "Tell me all about it !" Helen, queen of gossip, you giggle on the inside. "Well, I was telling Emma, that he makes me really happy and that I'm very lucky to have him in my life !" You bit your lips, looking around you, hoping to see Tom coming back. "Good...is he good in the sheets though ?" Helen asks like it was nothing. Leaving an Emma dead of laughing. "Helen !" You shout, in shook but you can't help but start laughing too.

"I'm joking darling don't worry ! For how long have you been dating ?" You take a deep breath, thinking about it. "Almost 10 years !" Helen's eyes widen when she heard you. "Wow ! It doesn't make me feel any younger ! I still remember your early days !" You giggle, It's true, a long time had passes but it's still like your first days.

Emma hands you the glass filled with wine, you take it before raising it to the air. "Cheers ?" "Cheers !" "Cheers !" We all said as our glasses collided.

•••

So far, the party is going good, you were now all sat in the dining-room, waiting to eat. It's been like an hour, and Tom hasn't came back yet. Which makes you kinda nervous 'where the hell is he ?' You tough to yourself. And just when you were about to go look for him, you feel a hand on your shoulder. "Hi love !" He said cheerfully. "Sorry for being that long, Matthew just broke up with his girlfriend I had to pick up the pieces." He sigh as he sat beside you. All of you worries disappeared, but quickly replace by worries for your friend. "Oh...this is sad...is he okay now ?"

Tom nods as he puts one of his hands on your thigh, caressing your skin with his thumb to reassure you. "Yes ! Don't worry !" You smiled and you finally get to enjoy the moment, your lover is finally here with you. Your boyfriend bite his lip while pushing a lock of hair behind you ear. "Hey...can we forgot that bet ? I really wanna kiss you right now" He whispered, you giggle a little bit, you knew he wouldn't win this one. "Do you really think I'll give up so easily ?" Tom sighs at you response. His back it the chair behind without stopping to look at you.

"Oh fuck it..." He quickly said before grabbing your head in his hands and crushing his lips on yours. You smile against them, you've been apart for an hour and you already missed him so much. "Hey, get a room you two !" A well known voice stops you. You turn your head and see Daniel giggling. "Jealous Potter ?" You shout at him, making Tom giggle. "Totally !" He said mockingly, you roll your eyes before putting your attention on your man again.

•••

You've just finished your meal, it was really good ! You really enjoyed it but something was off. Tom was off, he was less joyful, less goofy, in normal times he'll always be the one to make jokes, especially with his friends from the cast. So you couldn't help but being worried for your boyfriend.

You gently put your hand on his knee to have his intentions. "Yes, Darling ?" He asks innocently. You look in his beautiful eyes that still have this incredible effect on you. "Love are you okay ?" He tilts your head at your question and put his arms behind you on top of your chair. "Yes sweetheart, why that question ?" You loin at him sadly, what is he trying to hide from you ? You know more than you know yourself. "Tom..."

Your gaze make him understand he has to stop lying to you but he couldn't tell you the truth. "Alright, I'm just a little tired, but that's all, I promise." He leans to kiss your cheek has you sigh on relief. "Okay, we won't stay for too long then" You smiled at him. "But Y/N..." You cut him. "Shht ! Don't complain ! You need to rest." A tiny smile appear on Tom's face while he's looking at you, thinking on how on earth did he got so lucky to have you in his life.

And suddenly he tought to himself: 'What the hell am I waiting for ?' He quickly kisses your lips and thanked you. "I'm gonna get us some drinks, you want something ?" He asks as he gets up. "No thanks love !" You smiled and watched him leaving.

•••

A few minutes later, Jason enter the dining room. "Well, well, well, my dears ! Emma and I prepared a little surprise in the living-room, so if you could get you ass up and go there it would be really nice of you !" You laugh at the finesse in his words while you get up, followed by the other, again, Tom disappeared.

You sat on the gigantic couch, next to Bonnie and Evanna, you three discuss for a while before the big tv turns on. You frown slightly, the surprise begins but Tom is not there yet !

A bunch of photos and videos from the cast back on the set pops up on the screens, you laugh at some of them. It become quite emotional at some point, a video a baby you and baby Tom responding to question for an interview, reminding you off how far you've known each other.

Then the video comes to an end, Emma appears in front off the tv while everyone is cheering, including you.

"Sooo...before we end that little reunion, someone wants to say a few words." Emma looks straight into your eyes, your feel nervous all of sudden, 'was i supposed to say something' you tought. But Emma explains herself quickly. "Look at you right Y/N !"

You hesitate a little bit before turning your head, you see him standing there. He smiles before walking towards you and take your hand to make you get up. You frown slightly, 'what is going on ?' You thought.

"Y/N...My love...My darling, I-I don't even know where to start. When I met you, we were only kids but, we got along right away. I found in you a best-friend and 6 years later, I finally got the guts to tell you what I was really feeling for you."

You listen to him, drink his words, trying to keep your tears to yourself as he still holds your hand tightly.

"Since then, my life took another turn, I knew that whatever would happen to us I'd do everything I can to stay the reason why you're smiling ! I understood what love was thanks to you, it didn't took me long to realise I wouldn't survive a life without you. That's why..."

He lets go of your hand to dive his hand in the pocket of his suit, he gets out a little black box and you understand what's about to happen. You smile broadly, letting tears flow down your cheeks. Everyone was looking at you two but at this exact moment all you could see was him.

He bends down and puts one knee on the floor and opens the little box, revealing the magnificent ring in it.

"Y/N Y/L/N would you do me the honour of becoming my wife ?" He asks, looking directly at your eyes. You don't even need to think about it. "Yes ! Of course I want to be your wife !" You shout, a incredible smile appeared on his face while the others behind you starts to scream and applauding. Tom gets up, take the little ring and manage to slip in through your finger despite your both trembling hands. As soon as the ring is on your finger, you take Tom head in your hands and kiss him with all your love, his arms slips around your waist and he holds you as strong as possible before lifting you up.

All the others join you into a big hug, your feet rest ont the floor and you quit Tom's arms just the time to hold everyone in your arms. The other girls literally scream looking at your ring. "I'm so happy for you two !" Emma shout, holding you tightly against her.

•••

The end of the evening was coming, a lot of the guests were already gone now. You spent the rest of it, either cuddling with you fiancé, already fantisising on your wedding or showing your ring to the womens here who couldn't stop greeting you two.

But for now, you were about to leave, you took Emma into a hug one last time and finally followed Tom outside the house. "What an evening !" You said grabbing his hand.

Once you finally reach your house, you're greeted by Willow who was jumping everywhere. "Heeeyy ! Willow look at this !" You crouch down to show her your engagement ring as if she could understand what it is. Tom giggle behind you, he couldn't stop smiling, seeing you that excited and happy to be his fiancé made him the most happiest man alive.

You get up, and turn to him, a disappointed look on your face. "She doesn't care !" You have a sulky face as your arms go around Tom's neck, his naturally go around your waist to keep you close to him. "Too bad, we'll have to choose another bridesmaid !" He said jokingly before kissing your soft lips, you giggle a little against them as the kiss become heated.

He leaves you lips only to places other on you cheek, sliding to your jaw to finish on your neck. "What if we celebrate our first night as an engaged couple ?" He whisper against your skin. "I've been wanting to tear that dress off you since the first second I saw you in it." He says in the hollow of your ear, giving you shivers down your spine.

Your soft moan gives him the answer he needs, he pulls the zip of your dress and lifts you up in less then a second. He takes you to your dorm and with that, you spent your very first night as engaged.

••••••••••••

#tom felton x reader #tom felton fluff #tom felton #tom #tom felton imagine

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freddiesaysalright · 4 years

Text

Just Like a Woman - Part 12

A Roger Taylor x Reader Story

Summary: You and Roger were once in love when you were young. Only, he went on to be a rock star, and you went on to be a lawyer. Now, quite against your will, you’re representing him in his divorce.

Word Count: 3.1k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @moon-stars-soul, @im-an-adult-ish, @ixchel-9275, @jennyggggrrr, @zyanmaik, @mypassionfortrash, @a19103, @madeinheavxn, @beepbeephardy, @rrogerchxrm, @qweenly, @blisshemmings, @seasidecrowbar, @internationalkpoplova, @ellystone, @takemetoneverland420, @coffeexcigarette, @lookuptotheskiesandsee, @thatpunkmaximoff, @angelkissys, @rocknroll-stolemyass, @simonedk, @anotheronewritesthedust1, @peterquillzblog, @mrfahrenhcit, @joseph-mozzerella, @theprettyandthereckless, @nixfreak, @johndeaconshands, @rogerandhiscar, @queenmaracasandlove, @sunflower-ben, @cubetriangle, @amy-brooklyn99, @scorpiogemini, @kiainspace, @itsabenthing, @bookandband, @makemeyourwife-loveofmylife, @grazessa, @borhapqueen92, @theonsasheart, @vektorivittu, @chanti-frn, @brianssixpence, @dancingcoolcat, @xviiarez, @irepookie, @lnnuend0, @rogerxmeddows, @vici-xx, @bellas2silly,@rogerrhqpsody If you’d like to be added for the epilogue, let me know!

A/N: THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER! However, there WILL be an epilogue, so it’s not quite over yet!

Warning(s): None!

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

Part 12 here we go!!!

Two weeks passed. The sentencing was equally as satisfying as the trial. Sully was hit with ten years in prison, but would not be eligible for parole until after serving at least five. You were sure they would appeal, but for now, he was going to be off the streets and Dominique had secured her justice. It made your entire career in law up until this point worth it.

After the sentencing, Bill called you into his office. You were nervous about it because usually he didn’t have private meetings unless it was serious. You swallowed before walking in.

“Y/N,” he greeted you. “Thanks for coming up. I know you’re busy.”

“No problem,” you replied. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you for handling this case,” he said. “You took it on with no experience. You also overcame your own hurt to take on Roger’s divorce. You’ve proven just how valuable you are to this firm these past months.”

You blinked, surprised by the flattery.

“Well, I - um - thank you,” you said. “What’s brought this on?”

“We’re growing as a firm,” he said. “And with John retiring, I’ve got to start thinking about his replacement.”

John was the other senior partner. He was Bill’s professor, and they began the firm together. Your stomach jolted. Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

He twirled his pen between his fingers and glanced down at a packet of papers on his desk.

“This is a new contract for employment,” he said. “For you. To become a partner.”

“A senior partner?” you questioned.

He smiled. “Just partner for now. But that is the track I see for you.”

You almost squirmed in your seat with joy. To become a partner was a dream of yours. To be on track for senior partner was even more pleasing to hear.

“What do you say?” he asked. “We’re a good team. You deserve to help me run this place, especially after what you’ve recently accomplished.”

A smile spread across your face.

“I say hell yes,” you told him, beaming.

“Wonderful,” he replied. “If you read the contract, you’ll see your salary increase.”

You reached out and picked up the packet. You scanned the first page until you found the number. Your stomach did a flip at the offer and your eyes went wide.

“What?!”

He smirked. “That’s just a little less than I make. I thought that was fair considering how great an attorney you are.”

“That’s a lot of money!”

“Nothing that you don’t deserve.”

You put the papers in your lap and looked at him with your mouth hanging open.

“This is incredible, Bill,” you said earnestly. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he returned. “I’m looking forward to this.”

Feeling completely elated, you signed the papers. Afterward, you called Roger to tell him the good news.

“A partner?!” he gasped. “Y/N, that’s amazing! Congratulations!”

“Thank you, sweetie!” you replied. “I just can’t believe it! I mean, Bill did so much of the work for Dominique’s case, and he guided me through all of it, so I was just really shocked! But I’m excited I can hardly stand it!”

“Tell you what, this calls for celebration,” he said. “How about I take you to a special lunch tomorrow and we can toast to your promotion?”

“I’d love that,” you told him.

“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight, love.”

“See you tonight.”

You hung up and giggled to yourself. You could barely contain your emotion. Everything was coming together, like Roger said. You were looking forward to your future with him, and your promising career as a partner.

The next day, Jane came into your office first thing in the morning.

“Y/N, Miss -” she began, but Miss Thomas swept by her and marched into your office.

“Miss Thomas needs to see you,” Jane finished, shooting the woman an annoyed glare.

“Yes, Jane, I can see that,” you sighed. “You may go.”

She nodded and closed the door. You looked at Miss Thomas.

“Lucy, how can I help you?” you asked.

“I need you to help my father with his wrongful termination suit,” she said, swinging her hair behind her shoulder.

“Okay, what does he do?” you asked.

“He’s a primary school teacher,” she said.

“And why was he fired?” you wondered.

“Because he believes he’s Santa Claus,” she told you simply.

You blinked. “I - I’m sorry?”

“He told the children that he’s Santa - which he believes - so the headmaster fired him,” she went on. “It’s completely unfair. What, just because he’s Santa means he doesn’t have a right to work?”

“You do know that he’s not really Santa Claus, right?” you asked slowly, shock still coming over you.

“There’s no way to prove that he isn’t, really,” she said with a shrug. “Whether he is or not isn’t for me to decide. The point is, he shouldn’t be fired for it.”

“When’s the court date?” you asked, ignoring the ridiculousness of it.

“Tomorrow,” she said. “Can you meet with him today?”

Your eyes went wide. “Tomorrow?! Why am I only just learning about this?!”

“He had another lawyer, but he was terrible so I fired him,” she answered. “You’re the best lawyer I know, so I came to you.”

“I can meet with him today, but it’ll have to be over lunch,” you said with a sigh. “I’m booked the rest of the day.”

“Great, I’ll see you at noon,” she chirped.

She stood up, turned on her heel and sauntered out of your office. You heaved another sigh. You had so been looking forward to your lunch with Roger, but now you were going to have to call and cancel. But as you picked up the phone, you heard the now familiar laugh of the little boy. You whipped around and spotted him crawling beneath the window behind your desk.

“What are you doing down there?” you wondered, smiling at him.

You had seen him at least once a day for the past two weeks. You told only Roger, who insisted you see a psychiatrist. Or maybe even a neurologist. You refused because going to the doctor was your absolute least favorite thing to do and you were certain the visions would stop. Only, they weren’t. You were beginning to consider Roger’s idea. Especially now that you were talking to him.

He only giggled before disappearing as he always did. You shook your head, amused. Then you dialed Roger. The phone rang, and as it did, you got an idea.

“Hello?” Roger’s voice came through on the other end.

“Rog?”

“Yes, love?”

“Could you meet me at my office for lunch today instead of the restaurant?” you requested. “I’m meeting a last minute client and I could use your help.”

“Really?” he questioned. “Sounds odd. And what about our celebration?”

“It’s Miss Thomas’s father,” you told him. “Can we celebrate tonight instead?”

“I can’t imagine what he’s like,” he said with a chuckle. “Of course we can celebrate tonight. I’ll change the reservation.

“Thank you so much,” you replied. “Get here around noon, yeah?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Love you!”

“Love you more.”

You hung up, humming contentedly.

He made good on his promise. In fact, Roger arrived before Miss Thomas and her father. You explained to Roger what she had told you that morning, but didn’t tell him the vital question you were going to ask.

Miss Thomas entered your office, accompanied by the kindest looking elderly man you had ever seen in your life. You wondered how he could have fathered someone like her. He was round, with cherry red cheeks, and a jolly smile. He wore a black peacoat, but you could see the red trousers beneath it. On his feet were black boots. Atop his silvery white mane of hair, he wore a red Santa hat. As he made his way through the office, he wished everyone a happy Christmas. Until finally, he was at your door.

“Mr. Claus,” you said respectfully. “Thank you for taking time to see me today.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he replied. “This whole business is really throwing off my schedule. And this is a very busy time of year for me.”

“I imagine so,” you returned. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you,” he said kindly, and he sat in a chair across from your desk.

“Tell me a little bit about your case,” you said.

“Well, for most of the year, I teach primary school,” he explained. “But of course, the closer the holidays get, the busier I get. So, I told the children this and why I was so busy, and then some parents got upset and the next thing I knew, I was fired.”

“I’m sorry,” you told him. “Well, we’re going to try and get you your job back, sir. Only, we have to prove that what you’re saying isn’t proof of diminished capacity, which is what the headmaster is claiming.”

“I don’t understand all these legal terms,” he said with a shrug. “I just know that after delivering the presents this year, I won’t have the usual children to look forward to.”

“Mr. Claus, have you ever seen this man before?” you asked, pointing to Roger.

Mr. Thomas laughed heartily. “Well, of course I have! But not since he was a boy! How are you, Roger?”

“Um...fine?”

Roger raised a concerned eyebrow at you. He clearly had never actually met this man in his life.

“Mr. Claus, do you know Mr. Taylor from his band, Queen?” you asked.

Mr. Thomas shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Roger stopped writing to me when he was ten, and of course with all the new children, we lost touch.”

“Mr. Claus, how many children does Roger have?” you asked.

“Why, he’s got two!” Mr. Thomas said excitedly. “Little Felix and baby Rory. Both very good children who will be getting sweets in their stockings this year!”

Roger’s eyes went wide as an owl’s. He looked over at you again.

“I’ve never shared my children’s names publicly,” he said. “Ever.”

“And of course, there’ll be another next year, though he hasn’t got a name yet,” Mr. Thomas added with a twinkle in his eye.

You froze as you absorbed those words.

“I...I’m sorry, what?” you squeaked with shock.

Miss Thomas looked at you like you were an idiot.

“You’re pregnant, Y/N, didn’t you know?” she snapped.

“How could I possibly know, I haven’t even missed a period!” you protested.

You looked desperately at Roger. The color had drained from his face. You gaped at each other, in complete disbelief.

“You’ve seen him, haven’t you?” Mr. Thomas said. “Your son?”

“M-my son?” you sputtered.

Was that the little boy you were seeing? Was that why he resembled Roger with that little piece of you?

Mr. Thomas’s eyes sparkled again as he winked at you.

“I...I have been seeing a boy, but I didn’t…” you trailed off, brain muddled with everything you were experiencing.

“He’s trying to get your attention, Y/N,” Mr. Thomas said. “Have you spoken to him?”

“I’ve tried, but he always disappears,” you admitted, unsure what made you comfortable enough to say it.

“He’s telling you he’s on the way,” he continued. “You ought to schedule an appointment with your doctor.”

You still couldn’t quite believe what was happening. You had no anticipated Mr. Thomas knowing about Roger’s children, much less the one that might exist in the future. And yet, to think that you might be carrying Roger’s son made you happier than you could recall feeling in years.

“Mr. Thomas, I will take your case,” you finally said.

“Hold on, this must be a trick,” Roger interjected. “I’m famous, he could have known -”

“Not if you’ve never shared their names,” you cut across him.

“What if he’s a journalist who could somehow gain access to -”

“Roger, he’s a schoolteacher,” you interrupted again. Then you looked at Mr. Thomas. “And so much more.”

You smiled at him, which he returned. Roger was still struggling.

“This is crazy,” he said. “It’s absolutely mad.”

“There’s only one way to be sure,” you said.

You had Jane schedule you a doctor’s appointment that afternoon. An at-home pregnancy test would not do for this occasion. Roger insisted on coming with you, so before you knew it, you were sitting on an exam table, swinging your legs with anxiety. Roger was pacing in front of you. The results of this would mean Mr. Thomas was telling the truth, but it meant even more for you and Roger.

“Rog, if we are pregnant,” you began with a sigh. “What...what would you like to do about it?”

He looked at you and his brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”

Tears started to well up in your eyes. “I mean, would you want to keep it, or…?”

“Oh, my love,” he said gently, striding over to pull you into a hug. “Of course I want to keep it. It’s our child.”

“I know, but we’ve only just got back together, and we aren’t married,” you went on.

“Would you like to be?” he asked.

You blinked. “What?”

“Married,” he said. “Do you want to get married?”

“Is this a proposal?” you returned.

“It might be,” he replied.

You frowned. “Roger, I don’t want to get married just because there might be a child. I want you to marry me only if you really want to marry me. And if you are going to propose, it can’t be in a bloody doctor’s office.”

He chuckled. “Don’t get upset, it was just a way to start the discussion.”

A beat passed and he became serious again.

“Y/N, I want to marry you because I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone,” he said. “The only thing more foolish than getting married would be not getting married because we have wasted so much time already.”

Your mouth began to fall open as you looked at him.

“And no, this isn’t an official proposal,” he said. “I know the one you’ve always dreamed of. But this is where my heart is and I want you to know - I’d marry you right this fucking second, baby or no baby.”

“Rog, I -” you began, but then the doctor walked in.

“Well, Miss Y/L/N, it looks like you are pregnant,” she said.

The words washed over you. Pregnant. With Roger’s baby. The dream you had always wanted since before you even knew who you were.

“I...I am?” you asked. “Are you sure?”

She chuckled and then turned the paper in her hand to show you.

“I’m sure,” she said. “How did you know if you hadn’t missed a period?”

You looked between her and Roger, scrambling for an answer.

“Father Christmas told us,” he said simply.

She blinked and looked at him like she hadn’t heard him right. “Father...Christmas?”

He nodded. “Father Christmas.”

“Well, I can’t exactly argue with that, can I?” she teased, smiling again. “So, we should start you on a few things to keep you and your baby healthy…”

She went on, and you tried to pay attention, but the only thing you could think of was the life you now knew existed within you. You looked down at your stomach, thinking of how it would look in nine months. You were having a baby. With the man of your dreams. You looked up at Roger, who was listening intently to the doctor. You were so grateful that you had found him again, you felt your eyes get warm with tears.

“Y/N?” the doctor said, looking at you with concern. “Are you alright?”

You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Yeah, um, could we just have a minute?” you choked out.

“Of course,” she agreed. “Just call me if you need anything.”

She stepped out of the room and you looked at Roger through your tears. A shaky smile formed across your lips as you met his gaze.

“We’re having a baby!” you sobbed.

You slid off the exam table and threw yourself into his arms. He laughed as he caught you. Giving you a squeeze, he closed his eyes to the feeling of you against him. This was everything he had ever wanted as well. To be with you. To have children with you. To love you for the rest of his life.

“I love you so much,” he said, choking up himself. “I’m so happy.”

“Me too,” you returned. “Happy Christmas, Roger.”

“Happy Christmas, Y/N.”

You went to dinner that night as planned, only without the champagne. While you were originally intending to celebrate your promotion to partner, you were thrilled to celebrate a more important promotion - to mother. You felt this was the one that would change you the most, and you couldn’t wait to see how.

As you and Roger walked back to your flat, you passed some carolers. Among them stood the little boy. He had a mischievous grin on his face that made you look at his father and smile. The boy looked at you and waved before running off and slowly fading out. The wave didn’t feel like a goodbye. It felt more like “see you soon.”

You were dragged to a stop because Roger had halted on the sidewalk.

“Rog?” you asked. “What is it?”

His eyes were fixed on the spot the boy had just disappeared from.

“Was that him?” he wondered, looking at you.

“You saw him?!” you cried.

“I did!” he returned excitedly. “He just waved and ran off! Was that him?!”

“Yeah!” you told him. “That was the boy!”

You took a giddy moment together and clasped hands.

“I’ve got the feeling we won’t be seeing him again,” you said. “Until, y’know, he’s actually here.”

“This feels so surreal,” he replied. “I can’t believe we’ve seen him.”

“It does all seem to be so magical,” you agreed. “But I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy. I know you’ve done this already, so -”

He cut you off with a sweet kiss.

“Y/N, no matter how many times I’ve done this, the thrill of being a father again doesn’t get old,” he said. “And to have a baby with you….well, you’re all I’ve ever wanted. I am just as excited now as I was with Felix. Maybe even more so.”

You beamed at him.

“I love you, Roger Taylor,” you said.

“I love you more, Y/N Y/L/N,” he returned.

You kissed there in the street, caring nothing for the busyness around you. All that mattered was the man in your arms, the baby in your belly, and the future before all three of you.

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #roger taylor imagine #Queen #queen imagine #queen x reader #queen x you #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #BoRhap #borhap imagine #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #just like a woman series

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

Eccentricity [Chapter 2: You Can Run Around Infinite In My Head]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make.

Potentially a better love story than Twilight (we’ll let @killer-queen-xo decide when it’s all said and done 😉).

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Rome by Dermot Kennedy.

Chapter Warnings: Language, mentions of violence.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

Missing In Action

I wish she would stop staring at me.

Lucille sat at the Lees’ usual table and apathetically picked through a heaping salad. (Friday was salad bar day, which I appreciated considerably more than the chicken finger obsession that marred Mondays at Calawah University.) Every once in a while, Rami nudged her and Lucille would spear a cherry tomato with her fork and bite it in half with perfectly even, white teeth. But her large blue-green eyes—they reminded me of webs of seaweed tumbling in the cold, frothing La Push waves—always found their way back to me, strangely focused, inquisitive, perhaps accusatory.

Ben probably told them how much he hates me for whatever nebulous reason and now they all hate me too and I’m going to spend the next two years being death-glared by five ridiculously attractive and somewhat incestuous foster kids.

Chemistry was a three times a week class. Ben hadn’t shown on Wednesday, and I was 99% sure he would skip again today. I spotted him around campus periodically, always from a distance: dropping quarters into a vending machine, clandestinely vaping behind dorm buildings (what self-respecting pre-med student VAPES?!!), browsing YouTube videos in the library next to a tower of unopened textbooks, biology and chem and physics and calculus. He wasn’t home, he wasn’t sick; there was no attempt made to construct any sort of pretext. He was patently avoiding me.

I stabbed moodily at the serrated disks of cucumber in my salad. Jessica was blathering away about the latest season of The Bachelor and ranking the contestants’ eyebrows from best to worst. “...Like seriously, has she never heard of microblading?!”

“For real,” Angela offered, not especially invested but forever a good sport.

Lucille’s eyes settled on me again as she sipped a cup of steaming tea, staring until her forehead crinkled with the effort, staring hard, almost leering.

“What’s her problem?” I muttered.

Jessica shot a glance towards the Lee table and slurped her Sprite. The great mystery surrounding her potential Mormon-ness persisted. “Who? Lucy?”

Only Lucille’s friends called her Lucy. Jessica, a shameless aspiring socialite, presumed she was everybody’s friend unless they explicitly informed her otherwise, which of course no one ever did.

“Yeah,” I answered glumly.

“Maybe it’s your dress.”

“My dress? What’s wrong with my dress?”

Jessica wrinkled her nose and surveyed me as if I were a bug, and not a cute bug like a roly-poly bug or The Very Hungry Caterpillar or whatever. Like a really hideous bug. Like one of those spider-cricket hybrid things that hopped straight out of a hell dimension and into the dark, drippy corners of your basement. “It’s, like, very 1960s. But not in a sexy Woodstock way. In a ‘I’m about to join a hippie murder cult’ way.”

“I got it at TJ Maxx. It was on sale.”

Jessica snorted. “Probably for a reason.”

“That’s it. I’m giving all the hippies in my new murder cult your address.”

She and Angela laughed. Mike and Eric, the missing pieces of our daily lunch puzzle, were preoccupied with a campus protest to convert fried fish day (Thursdays) into tacos day. I sympathized with their efforts, but didn’t feel that my one-week tenure as a Calawah University student gave me much right to go around overhauling the dining hall schedule.

“I doubt she’s actually offended by a dress,” Angela said, nibbling on French fries that shed grains of salt like snowflakes.

Jessica sighed dreamily. “But Lucy’s just so fashionable...and that accent...” She drifted off into some daydream which began—I could only assume—with Lucy’s invitation to go shopping together and concluded with marrying Ben on some lush tropical island in the South Pacific.

Lucille was definitely fashionable, especially today: short black dress with sheer sleeves that ran to her fragile wrists, black polka dot tights, black heeled oxfords, dangling ruby earrings like beads of blood. She would have blended in perfectly at Paris Fashion Week. Rami was wearing a cardigan and khakis, per usual; Joe was in dark fitted jeans and a roomy U Chicago hoodie despite the fact that Forks was at minimum a thirty-four hour drive from the Windy City. What did Angela say his major was? Finance? No, Mathematical Economics. So he’s probably aiming at Chicago for an MBA or Econ PhD someday. Angela had told me that Joe was wicked smart. He better be if he’s entertaining fantasies of grad school at the University of Chicago.

Scarlett had come straight from Fencing Club and was wearing bright pink yoga pants and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut out, sprinkling Hot Cheetos into her open mouth, her blonde hair secured in a tight French braid. You know those girls who are so irrationally, gluttonously, unfairly beautiful that it doesn’t seem possible the genetic lottery could spit out so many winning numbers at once, and you comfort yourself with the certainty that there must be some set of circumstances that would level the playing field—I bet she looks like anyone else without all that makeup, she just has a really good sense of style and knows how to maximize her assets, there are definitely some goofy oversized ears hiding beneath that hair and that’s why she always wears it down—and then one day you run into them wearing sweatpants and a ponytail in the tampon aisle at Walmart and they’re still so perfect it stings you, baffles you, makes you feel like there must have been some divergence in the evolutionary chain because there’s no freaking way you’re the same species? Yeah, Scarlett was one of those girls. Scarlett was the queen of those girls.

Ben was conspicuously absent from the table.

Scarlett’s pink leopard-print iPhone rang and she answered. “Hello?” She turned to Joe. “Dad says you left your phone at home. Do you need it?”

Joe was gnawing his way through his third slice of pepperoni pizza. “No, I’m good, thanks though.”

Scarlett relayed the message. “Dad says he’s going to bring it by just in case.”

“Oh my god, ScarJo, I’m fine! Tell him not to!”

“Dad says he doesn’t trust you and he’s going to be here in fifteen minutes. He’s also bringing the Game Theory homework you left by the hot tub.”

Joe groaned and rolled his lively dark eyes as Rami grinned at him; Lucille was still watching me and entirely oblivious.

“Isn’t it weird that Ben and Lucille have accents?” I asked Jessica. “That they’re from the U.K.? I didn’t think fostering kids was an international thing.”

“It’s not that weird. Dr. Lee is British too. Maybe there’s some kind of exchange system, I don’t know. But you know what I do know?”

“What?” Now my interest was piqued.

She smiled. “That the British accents are hot.”

“Ugh,” I exhaled involuntarily.

“Please get a hobby,” Angela begged Jessica. “Start a YouTube channel. Make care packages for orphans. Grow marijuana. Adopt a cat. I have a shift at the animal shelter this Sunday morning, you want to come with me?”

“Sorry, can’t. I have a temple thing.”

Temple on Sunday. The mystery is solved. She’s a Mormon for sure. I mentally resolved not to let her set me up with anyone unless I was still single on Valentine’s Day. Which, obviously, assuming I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere, I will be.

I gathered up my trash and slung my backpack over my shoulder. “Okay, well this has been a bizarre lunch to be completely honest, and now I have to go to Chemistry so I’ll see you later and hopefully we can brainstorm some more alternatives to Jessica’s current life trajectory on Monday. Because I am not looking forward to being a bridesmaid in these impending Lee nuptials.”

“Oh please!” Jessica lamented. “He doesn’t even know I exist. You, on the other hand...”

I scoffed. “Yeah, he wants to kill me. I truly have a gift.”

They waved as I left. I could feel Lucille’s eyes on me until I reached the door.

Sure enough, Ben wasn’t in Chemistry. I tried not to notice. I drew my atoms, wrote my equations, took my notes diligently and in my favorite sky blue ink. But I felt the emptiness in the chair next to me like a black hole, like an immense and dragging weight, like a snag in the fabric of all those interwoven strands of physics that orchestrate the universe like an immortal puppeteer. Why can’t I forget this guy? Why do I still feel like I’ve met him before?

Halfway through class, I hauled my emergency sweatshirt out of my backpack and pulled it on over my dress, floral and flowing and golden yellow like the sun, the sun that never shines here in Forks. I had liked it plenty under the florescent lights of the fitting room at TJ Maxx, and I had still liked it this morning; but Jessica’s words hummed around in my skull like wasps. The zipper of the sweatshirt was broken, but it accomplished the task of obscuring my dress well enough.

After Chemistry, I journeyed to the campus library to find a book I was supposed to read and present for a different class. I looked it up in the computer catalogue, spent an embarrassingly long time trying to figure out how the Dewey Decimal System works, eventually wound up finding the book on the highest floor of the library...and, to add a little extra peril to the mission, on the highest shelf. The book mocked me from its lofty, unattainable stronghold. The title was embossed in gold letters down the crimson spine. The Walruses And Me: A Transformative Experience. Idiotic title, I’m aware. It’s about some marine biologist who spent months alone in the Arctic studying the lifecycles of walruses. A noble pursuit, sure, but still a terrible title.

There wasn’t a chair or stepstool in sight. I tested my weight by stepping up onto the second-lowest shelf. The metal immediately squealed and shifted in protest. I retreated back down to the carpet, defeated by gravity. I scowled up at the book and sighed melodramatically. Ugh.

“Need something?”

I spun around to see Joe in his University of Chicago hoodie and pale flawless skin and intangible magnetism, that bewildering trademark Lee ethereality. I instinctively crossed my arms, clutching the sleeves of my sweatshirt, shrinking inwards like a startled armadillo in the Arizona desert.

“Are you, uh, anemic...?” he ventured.

“Oh no, I’m not cold. I’m just trying to hide my dress. My friend said it was too hippie-murder-cult 1960s.”

I figured he’d laugh, make a snide comment, maybe just blink in confusion. Instead, he glimpsed down at my dress—what could still be seen of it, anyway—and shook his head. “The neckline isn’t right for the 60s. And you seem like you’ve showered at least once in the past two weeks, so definitely not a hippie.”

I smiled, completely unexpectedly. “I didn’t realize Econ majors knew anything about leftist counterculture.”

“Disparaging it is our favorite pastime. Are you trying to get a book or are you just disrespecting university property for entertainment?”

I pointed. “The big red one.”

“The Walruses And Me...?”

“I know, it’s a horrible title. Not my personal preference. It’s for a class.”

“Bestiality 101?”

“Good guess. Marine Mammals.”

“Ahhh.” He glanced up and down the aisle, tapped his chin with agile fingers, pondered something I wasn’t privy to. “Turn around for a second.”

“What? Why?”

He waved his hand mysteriously in front of his grinning face. “It’s a magic trick. I’m going to make your problem disappear.”

“You can’t climb that,” I warned. “You’ll fall and break your neck. Or you’ll knock the whole shelf over and cause a tragic domino effect and the university will withhold your diploma until you pay them restitution.”

“I’m extremely athletic.”

“Are you sure?” I appraised him with exaggerated skepticism for comedic effect. “My dad refers to you only as the spindly annoying Lee.”

Oh my god, WHY did I say that?

Now he would definitely hate me. Now I’d have two mortal enemies on one campus. I mentally calculated how humiliating it would be to transfer to some Florida college, any Florida college, after only one week at Calawah. Hi mom, yeah I’m coming to live with you and Paul, a gang of hot pasty foster kids wants to slaughter me.

Instead, Joe threw back his head and cackled wildly. A librarian—mid-fifties, angry red hair from out of a box, fuzzy cat sweater—glared into the aisle and shushed him.

“Chief Swan...he actually...he calls me that? Really?!” Joe managed, wiping his leaking eyes. “That’s hilarious. I’m so glad my life is in his hands. Okay seriously, turn around.”

“Why would you help me?” I asked suspiciously.

“That’s just what I do. I’m a friendly guy.”

“This friendliness must not run in the family.”

Again, Joe’s cheerful demeanor didn’t falter. “You mean Ben? Forget about Ben, he hates everyone. Don’t take it personally.” Then he added: “Plus, as I’m sure you know, we’re not biologically related. No overlapping genetic material whatsoever. I didn’t get the male supermodel gene, he didn’t get the irresistibly charming gene, life’s not fair but the world keeps spinning.”

“It sure does,” I agreed softly. Unexpected wisdom from my new favorite Lee. I turned away from him. “Fine, I’m not looking, go ahead and dazzle me with your supernatural friendliness—”

“Done.”

“What?” I whirled around. Joe held The Walruses And Me in his hand. “How...did you...?!”

He passed me the book as I sputtered incoherently. “I told you. Magic trick.”

“I don’t....?!” I gawked up at the top shelf, at Joe, back to the top shelf. Sure enough, the space where The Walruses And Me once lived was now just a vacant slit in the row of dusty books. How could he have climbed up there that quickly? How could I not have heard anything? “The shelves didn’t even creak,” I murmured shakily.

“Yes, well, that’s due to my conveniently spindly physique.” Joe winked. “Any other problems I can help you solve at the moment, Baby Swan?”

“No. And don’t call me Baby Swan, or I’ll push this whole bookshelf over and tell the feisty librarian lady you did it.”

“That’s cold, ma’am.”

I liked that Joe didn’t make me feel like Ben did: unworthy, unloved, infuriating. Joe made me feel something else, something lighthearted, casual, buoyant; like the world didn’t have anything in it worth worrying about, regretting, agonizing over. Like unadulteratedly myself was all I ever needed to be.

I heard a muted buzz and Joe slid his iPhone out of his jeans pocket. Dr. Lee must have successfully delivered it. “Whoops, I forgot that Ordinary Differential Equations existed. Got to go. See ya.”

“Bye,” I replied. And then Joseph Lee was gone, very quickly, a little too quickly, the same way that Ben had vanished on that first afternoon after Chemistry.

Forks is weird. Calawah University is weird. And the Lee kids are super fucking weird.

Long Walks On The Beach

“Can I ask you a random question?”

“You just paid me $100 for an oil change that took fifteen minutes. You can ask me anything you want.” He grinned, flashing bright teeth and deep dimples.

It was Saturday afternoon. I had shoveled down a Chipotle veggie bowl as Archer changed the 1999 Accord’s oil in a small garage with a cracked concrete floor and the searing pungency of gasoline fumes thick in the air. He had apprenticed all through high school and rented his own shop after graduation. Archer now had a loyal clientele that encompassed virtually the entire Quileute reservation and a growing chunk of Forks...including Charlie and me, of course. Archer was the only child of Larry Foxchild—Charlie’s best friend since they worked together at Dairy Queen as teenagers—and the closest thing to a son my dad would ever have. I guess that made him like a brother to me, something that seemed intuitive now that I’d thought of it.

After the Accord was serviced we drove it down to La Push to walk on the beach, climb the salt-lashed rocks, toss pebbles into the roiling surf, reprise our childhood enthusiasm for poking dead washed-up marine creatures with shards of driftwood.

“Do you know anything about the Lees?” I asked Archer, investigating a deceased green shore crab.

His brow furrowed. He looked so serious like that, suddenly so much like Larry: the same tan skin, jet black hair, umbral eyes like oil wells, strong jaw overlaid with the stubbled shadow of a beard. We really aren’t kids anymore, are we? “The doctor and his kids?”

“Yeah. The foster kids. They’re really pale and strange and half of them are British.”

Archer chuckled. “I know who you mean. They’re hard to miss.”

“Are they...” Just eccentric rich people? Traumatized from abusive childhoods? Government experiments? CIA agents? Secret murderers? The image of Ben in that first Chemistry class came roaring back to me, including the adjective that had flashed red behind my eyes like an emergency exit sign: fierce. Finally, I decided: “Dangerous?”

Now Archer full-on laughed, gripping his belly, shaking his head. Drops of saltwater flew from his short hair. “Seriously?!” he exclaimed. “Come on, they’re freaks but they’re not, like...that kind of freaks.”

“Are you sure?” I was starting to feel better already. Of course they’re not actual demons, you fucking idiot. This is Washington, not The Twilight Zone or Black Mirror. Not goddamn American Horror Story.

“Yeah.” Archer skipped a grey pebble over the water, something I’d never been able to do. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know them all that well. They usually keep to themselves. But I’ve never heard anything bad about any of the kids. And everyone respects Dr. Lee and appreciates him for taking the pay cut to come to some bumblefuck town like Forks. He’s insanely highly credentialed, has degrees from Harvard or Yale or somewhere like that. Super impressive. We’re lucky to have him. I definitely sleep better at night knowing he’ll be the one to fix me up if I ever get a few fingers ripped off on the job.”

“Don’t even say that. Then who would I grossly overpay for oil changes?”

Archer smiled, then sobered as he peered out over the Pacific Ocean.

“What?” I asked, feeling a plummeting in my guts like primal fear.

“Well...okay, so there is one thing that’s always bothered me. You remember Grandpa Foxchild?”

“Yeah, of course.” He had been an impossibly ancient man with long grey braided hair, a low rumbly voice, gnarled arthritic hands, ceaseless wrinkles. I remembered Charlie calling me when he passed away last spring. Renee and I had picked out a flower arrangement to send to the funeral.

“So,” Archer said slowly, like he was still puzzling it out himself. “Grandpa used to say things like ‘That Dr. Lee has been around a long time.’ Which of course makes no sense, the Lees moved here like two years ago. And I’d tell Grandpa that, but he completely ignored me. He would just keep repeating it. ‘That Dr. Lee shouldn’t still be here.’ ‘That Dr. Lee should go on home to where he came from.’ ‘That Dr. Lee isn’t right.’ Creepy shit like that. My dad and I always assumed it was the dementia talking, but...I don’t know. It just bothered me. Because Grandpa...he wasn’t just being gossipy or suspicious. He was angry. And he was afraid. Grandpa was at Guadalcanal and Iwo Jima and he would talk about that no problem, mention landmines or flesh melting off a soldier’s face like it was nothing. He was a tough guy. Immeasurably tough, I’ll never be half the man he was. But if you mentioned the Lees, Grandpa got scared. Why the hell would he be so scared of them?”

I didn’t have an answer for him, not a single word. I just stared at Archer, my eyes growing huge, my heart sprinting, blood pounding in my ears. He knew. Grandpa Foxchild knew there was something off about them, and now I know it too. I don’t know how I know, but I do.

Archer tittered nervously. “Anyway, that was genuinely disturbing. But like I said. It was probably just the dementia.”

“What if it wasn’t?”

“It had to be,” he insisted. “There’s no other logical explanation.”

“I guess,” I agreed, scooping up the green shore crab corpse with my bare hands. I hurled it out into the waves, imagined it sinking through murky water and suspended grains of sand, the body settling into prehistoric silt, the scavengers descending upon it, the inescapable wheel of birth and death and resurrection through those who unwittingly carry our atoms with them into the next generation, into the perpetual future.

That night my dreams were full of pale skin and scorching eyes, Ben and Joe and Rami, Lucille and Scarlett, crashing waves, cold water and bleached bones; and Grandpa Foxchild’s mistrustful refrain: That Dr. Lee has been around a long time.

Benjamin

I soared down the staircase and through the dining room. Gwil was working late at the hospital, Mercy outside tending the animals, everyone else presumably scattered throughout the house. I had to get out before anyone noticed me. I had to get out without Rami or Lucy knowing.

I yanked open the door to the back porch. Rami was waiting there.

“Good evening,” he greeted me in that slow, thoughtful drawl.

“Stay the fuck out of my head.”

“You know how it works, Benny Boy. I can’t ignore the loud thoughts. And you’ve been having some very loud thoughts lately.”

I stared down at my shoes, all black Adidas. Black is good. It doesn’t show stains. For example, purely hypothetically, splatters of human blood and organs. “I can make it quick. I can make it painless.”

Rami’s aura flared maroon; not enraged, no, not quite that, but certainly revolted. I was always finding new and horrifying ways to revolt them, whether I was trying to or not. “She has a family, Ben. A father. You know Chief Swan, you’ve seen him around town. He’s a good person. She’s a good person. You really want to do this? You really want to relapse like this?”

I didn’t reply. I didn’t have to. Hearing thoughts is a tricky thing, and not a gift that I would ever want; unspoken words are rarely a steam and usually a storm, disjointed and twisting, interrupting each other, bottomless layers of whispers and screams. But I was sure Rami could catch the important parts: that I didn’t know the difference between good and bad people, that I didn’t know what to think of people at all, that for me her blood was not a desire but a compulsion. I couldn’t stop envisioning it spilling over my tongue and teeth, down my throat, hot and pulsing erratically and fading. “Why can’t you hear her? Why can’t I see what she’s feeling?”

Rami shrugged, characteristically placid and restrained. It was maddening. “There are seven and a half billion people on this planet. So maybe every once in a while you get one that lives in our blind spots, there’s something chromosomal or psychological that puts them on a different frequency. I don’t know. How the hell should I know? All I know is that you definitely shouldn’t be seriously considering...well. What you’re considering.”

“Have you ever met someone whose thoughts you couldn’t hear before?”

“No,” Rami admitted; and was that a ghost of unease that crossed his face?

“Please, Rami. Let me go. Pretend you never saw me.” My words come out strained, hushed, like a spilled secret, like a confession. I’ve never wanted anyone’s blood like I want hers.

He heard that; I could see the dismay in his eyes. Now his aura is dark grey, almost black. Disappointment. Resignation. Mourning. “I told you what Lucy saw.”

“What she saw is impossible and you know it.”

Again, Rami shrugged. That blind, mindless faith. I wished I knew what it felt like. “She’s never wrong.”

“Have you told him?”

“Who, Joe?! Of course I haven’t told Joe. He...”

“He wouldn’t believe it either?” I snapped, like it was a victory.

“No,” Rami amended carefully. “No, he would believe anything Lucy saw.” Lucy had visions: flashes of the future, the past, the present. They were rare and unpredictable, often fragmented, snapshots rather than arcs. But they were always true. Or, rather, the other Lees claimed they were. The real Lees. “I don’t know what he would do about it,” Rami said finally. “So I’m waiting it out. And killing one of the primary participants is definitely not waiting it out.”

I seethed as I glared at him, hating him in that moment, hating myself only slightly more; and he heard that too. But then that wispy, fleeting haze around him was a pink like the last threads of sunlight sinking into the Western horizon. Forgiveness. Attachment. Love.

“Come with me, Ben,” Rami said gently, opening the door. “Come back inside. You can beat this. You’re better than this. You’re a good soul. You wouldn’t be with us if you weren’t.”

I tried to laugh. It came out like a snarl. “I haven’t had a soul in a long time.”

#joe mazzello fic #joe mazzelo x reader #borhap #borhap fic #borhap cast fic #twilight au #twilight #supernatural au

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pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles · 4 years

Text

Lucy’s Gift

Calum taking his daughter to buy the perfect Christmas present for you

"Daddy, come on." Calum's daughter tugged at his hand impatiently. "We have to find the perfect gift for me to get Mommy."

"Lucy, sweetheart, slow down, stay with me," he scolded the four year old who pouted at him over her shoulder. "Yeah, your mother tries that look on me too."

She stepped back beside him with a huge dramatic sigh that seemed to shake her entire tiny frame. She double checked her yellow glitter Pickachu change purse, where she'd tucked a crisp $100 bill in between her two most treasured Pokemon cards her Uncle Michael had given her for her birthday. The plan was to head to Macy's and buy Mommy the Marc Jacobs perfume gift set she'd been swooning over. Plans changed when two little feet came skidding to a stop next to a jewelry store.

"Daddy let's go in there," she shouted and he almost lost hold of her hand.

Calum was relieved to see the store wasn't busy. He was a regular enough customer that he was recognized by a salesperson who came rushing over to him. Lucy stepped forward intercepting him and he stopped short as she held out her hand to shake. He glanced up at Calum who stood back, clearly amused and went to shake the little girl's hand.

"Hello sir," she told him, looking him in the eye before releasing his hand. "My name is Lucy, and I need to find the perfect gift for my mommy."

"My name is Isaac, and I can help you with that Miss Lucy." The salesman replied leading her over to a small case with the inexpensive trinkets and clearance items.

Calum watched his daughter carefully examine the selection in the case, her eyebrows knitted together in concentration. Before she turned to Isaac with a frown.

"This isn't going to work Isaac. I need something pretty enough for my mommy. Right Daddy?" She looked to Calum for backup and he just nodded trying desperately not to crack up. Other customers were watching this exchange as Isaac helped Lucy up into a chair so he could "assist her better."

Calum pulled his camera out and took pictures and video of Isaac bringing out different items in the $200-$400 price range for Lucy's inspection. She was tough, rejecting at least six pieces before she was almost swayed by a citrine heart pendant necklace. She called Calum over to discuss. Lucy's favorite color was yellow and Calum suspected she almost wanted it for herself. She carefully held it in her palm running her finger along the edge, gnawing at her bottom lip, deep in thought.

"No," she decided. "Mommy's favorite color is blue, not yellow, but Daddy could buy that for me." She turned her dark pleading eyes on Calum and he cracked up. She might be the spitting image of him, but her mannerisms and expressions came from you. He had a feeling this hundred dollar present was going to cost him around a thousand.

"OH MY GOSH," he heard her high pitched breathy squeal and realized she'd slipped out of the chair and wandered over to a display a couple feet away. Lucy had her hands on her chest, jaw dropped and starry eyed staring at the jewelry case.

"My mommy would look like a princess in that," she told the older lady who was standing next to her. "Daddy, daddy come look." Lucy hopped from one foot to the other barely able to contain herself.

Calum was by her side in two steps and his eyes popped when he saw the price tag. He already had a bracelet on hold for you at this very store but this was about a thousand more than what he'd planned to spend.

"How much is this Isaac?" Lucy asked as he came up next to her.

She dropped her head when he told her the price. Calum thought she might cry but he noticed she was mumbling to herself and counting on her fingers. She looked up at Calum and then back at Isaac.

"Ok Isaac," she put her hands on her hips and tried to look bigger. "Let's see if we can reach a deal."

Calum pulled his phone out, instantly recognizing that wheedling tone of voice, and knowing you'd want to see how you ended up with such a fancy present.

"My mommy is the most beautiful girl ever in the whole world, and she needs to have this necklace. She would look like a princess and she even bought a dress to wear out with Daddy for New Year's." Lucy stopped and covered her mouth fearing she'd spilled a secret. She turned to Calum. "Daddy stop listening for a minute," she instructed, turning back to Isaac. "Mommy has the prettiest dress and it's blue like this and she has to have this." Lucy was drawing a crowd with her voice getting louder and her movements exaggerated as she fed on the attention.

"I'll give you a hundred dollars for that necklace, cash." Lucy reached in her purse and showed Isaac the money she'd stashed away.

"I'm afraid that's not enough Miss Lucy," Isaac informed her.

"You're killing me smalls." Lucy shook her head sadly, and Calum was red in the face trying not to laugh out loud. "Daddy listen again." She tugged on his jacket motioning for him to bend down.

"Do you have any cash I can borrow?" She asked.

"I have $750 dollars sweetpea," he whispered.

"Can I borrow it? I'll get you back," she told him.

"How?" He chuckled, "you're four."

"Mommy will help me do extra chores. Come on Daddy before someone else buys it," Lucy pleaded with him.

He bent down to examine the necklace, and realized his daughter was right. The dress he hadn't seen you hide in the closet was a shade darker than this necklace and the color was stunning on you. He'd wanted to keep Lucy on her budget but the idea of making both his girls happy with one gift was incredibly tempting.

He handed Lucy the $750 and watched her turn back to Isaac.

"Ok Isaac," she began. "I have $850 in cash money right here in my hand. You drive a hard bargain mister but that's all I've got." Lucy shook her head showing him each

individual bill. She took a big breath before continuing. "$850, take it or leave it."

Isaac glanced up at Calum who nodded discreetly before squatting down to Lucy's height.

"You drive a hard bargain little lady, but it's a deal."

He stuck out his hand to shake on it and Lucy had the biggest grin on her face as they did.

"It's a deal," Lucy said, and several people applauded.

Lucy paid while Calum carefully slipped his charge card in Isaac's hand while Lucy was distracted.

*******

"Open my present Mommy," Lucy reached up thrusting a square box into your hands. Between the hot chocolate and the high of Christmas morning she was practically bouncing off the walls so you couldn't help but notice she and Calum both got very quiet when she handed you your gift. You carefully unwrapped the exquisitely wrapped present as Lucy chattered about "negotiations" and how it was "so perfect.

You opened the box and gasped, snapping it shut again.

"Calum, is this real? Are you serious right now?" You ask, stunned.

Calum nods, a huge grin on his face, but Lucy interrupted.

"No Mommy, this is my present. I bought it with my money." She insisted, climbing up on the couch beside you.

"Why thank you Lucy." You opened the box again, sneaking a glance at your husband. Calum always went overboard for the holidays. While you tried to restrain him a bit when it came to Lucy, there was no one stopping him when it came to you.

Calum squeezed in next to you pulling Lucy onto his lap so he could show you the videos he'd taken off her "talking down" the salesman. You were laughing and crying all at once watching your daughter. Lucy insisted you put the necklace on even though you were dressed in candy cane pajama pants and one of your husband's t shirts.

"Mommy it's so pretty," Lucy oohed and aahed. "Isn't Mommy the most beautiful princess ever?"

"You're the princess Lulu." Calum tickled her and she squirmed off the couch. "Mommy is my queen." He leaned in to kiss you and after all these years you still got butterflies when he did.

"Are we done with presents? When are my cousins coming over?" Lucy launched herself at the two of you.

"There might be a few more under the tree," Calum replied. "Then you and I are gonna clean up, and get ready for company ok?"

"Ok Daddy." Lucy shouted over her shoulder, crawling under the tree.

Calum leaned in to brush his lips against your ear. "Tonight after she's in bed, I can't wait to see you on your knees, wearing nothing but that necklace."

"Don't worry babe," you whisper, one eye on your daughter. "She's staying with Ashton's girls tonight because you still have toys to unwrap. You've been a very good boy so Christmas is gonna come several times tonight."

@toofadedtofight @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @ghostofmashton @5sosnsfw @dammitbands @irwinkitten @sexgodashton @maluminspace @kchillout

#calum 5sos #calum hood #christmas #dad!calum

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (26/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: So you guys had some pretty big feelings about the last chapter. (I love it.) I think you might also have some about the next few. 🙈❤️

AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog@cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings

-/-

Liam has been yelling at him for thirty-two minutes and seventeen seconds.

That might be a little off, his timing incorrect since he didn’t start counting until it’d been going on for quite a few minutes, and he’s only been counting with his head. He doesn’t have a watch on, has no idea where his phone currently is except probably in the locker room, and counting in his head is the only way he’s able to keep track.

The clock on Elsa’s wall is dead. That seems apt.

Counting is very literally the only thing that is keeping him sane right now. It’s also distracting him from the throbbing pain that’s emanating from his shoulder every time he so much as flinches or shifts in the wrong direction.

Killian has felt like an idiot more times than he can count – ironic with how much he’s counting right now, he knows – but he thinks that ignoring his shoulder, ignoring the pain, ignoring the signs, and ignoring every other little thing over the past few months has been the dumbest thing he’s ever done.

This could fuck up his entire career, again, and he ignored it for the idiotic hope that things would simply get better on their own.

Things have obviously not gotten better on their own, and he was pretty much carted off of the field and out of the stadium to the hospital so that he could have an MRI and an X-ray done only to find out that he has tendinitis in the rotator cuff that was injured in the boating accident and already had to have surgery to repair it once before.

Liam is currently yelling at him because he made a joke about how at least it was only tendinitis and not another full tear that would require surgery and being out of the game completely for ten months.

Just four to six weeks this time.

That’s nothing, right?

Except the playoffs start in four weeks, and while he can’t remember the rules of eligibility right off the top of his head since this is something he’s never had to deal with before, he thinks that as long as he doesn’t miss the entire post-season, he could still play in the World Series.

If they make it that far.

Shit.

This is not good.

And his hopes for the World Series really shouldn’t be what’s going on in his head right now when he has another arm injury, which is another derailment for his career.

(He’s only twenty-eight years old. It shouldn’t be like this.)

But focusing on this one thing that he wanted, that he wants, for himself and for his team, is inexplicably both driving him into madness and keeping him sane all at once.

“How could you let all of the signs pass you by, Killian?” Liam huffs, his loafers likely going to run a hole in the linoleum floor of the hospital with how much he’s pacing. “Do you not remember what happened the last time you got injured? The lows that you went through? That’s happening again. You finally got to be happy, got to have things going right for you, and you screwed it up because you didn’t want to admit that there is something wrong with you? How fucking dumb can you be?”

“Liam,” Elsa admonishes from her spot in her office where they’ve all gathered now that he’s been released from all of his tests. It’s kind of feeling like a prison in here. “Now is really not the time to yell at him.”

“I think it’s a pretty damn good time.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Killian groans, twisting in Elsa’s office chair to look at his brother. His arm is throbbing, his medicine not quite taking effect yet but the ice pack helping a bit, and that’s all probably not helping with his level of agitation. “I am twenty-eight years old. I do not need you to yell at me like I am one of your children. ObviouslyObviously, I know that I fucked up. The insane amount of ice on my shoulder that’s pretty much going to stay there for the next month as I sit on my ass proves it.”

“All of this could have been solved if you’d come to a doctor. I’m a doctor. Elsa works in a hospital. You have fantastic health insurance. It’s not…the solution was right there. You should have told Archie too!”

“Liam,” Elsa scolds again, and his brother’s head snaps toward his wife.

“What? What could you possibly have to say? He screwed up.”

“No, you screwed up when you started yelling at him like he’s a child. But certainly not your child when there’s no way in hell you would speak to Addison or Lucy this way. Killian gets it. You can see it written over his face, and if you can’t tell that he didn’t say anything because he was scared of finding out something was going to be wrong with him again, I don’t know what to tell you. Is it dumb? Yes. But you see it happen with patients every single day. People get scared, and the confirmation makes injuries and diseases real for them.”

Damn, Elsa Jones.

“Elsa,” Killian sighs, “thank – ”

“No,” she starts, holding up her hand at him, her voice full of emotion. “Just because I understand you and am defending you doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at you. I’m not going to yell at you like your brother, though.”

Elsa wipes at the few tears that have fallen underneath her eyes, and before Killian can even get up to give her a hug and tell her just how much he loves her, Liam is crossing the room and wrapping her up in his embrace so that his frame dwarfs hers for a few seconds while Killian continues to get to sulk and loathe himself for doing this.

It’s all his fault.

There’s no other way around it. That’s the truth, and there’s no changing it.

What the hell is he going to do? And is this going to keep coming back if he continues to pitch? If he does proper treatment, is it something he can monitor? Is his career really about to be cut in half? What is Al going to think when he tells him? What are any of his teammates going to think? Or the owners? All of the managers?

What about Emma?

If he’d told her all of those times he wanted to tell her, all of those times he’d meant to tell her when she caught him in pain over the past few months, she would know about his past and would most likely have had enough sense to tell him to go see a doctor since she would have a more frequent look at how he was every day than either Liam or Elsa.

But “if” doesn’t exist.

What has happened, happened. There’s no changing that.

But if he could…no, nope. No. He can’t go there. “If” doesn’t exist.

Elsa phone starts ringing on her desk, Emma’s name popping up on the screen, and Killian’s hands fumble for it so quickly that he nearly drops it onto the ground. But he doesn’t, managing to slide his finger across the phone to answer so that he can hold it up to his ear to talk.

“Hello, beautiful,” he greets and both Elsa and Liam turn to stare him down.

“Killian?” Her voice is frantic, hoarse, and he has absolutely no idea how she managed to keep on working when he’s sure that her mind was running through all of the worst-case scenarios. She’s got to be pissed at him. He deserves it. Why couldn’t he have found the time to text her before he left? Right. He doesn’t know where his phone is. “Is that you?”

“Aye, love. It’s me. I’m answering Elsa’s phone.”

“SoSo, you’re not dead then?” He opens his mouth to respond but is cut off before he even can. “Because I have pretty much convinced myself that you were dead. It doesn’t even make any sense because you obviously didn’t have something, like, dangerous happen to you while you were playing, but all I’ve known for the past threewo hours waswere that you were hurt. And then my producer walks in the booth and tells me that you’re in the hospital but doesn’t say anything else and…you weren’t answering your phone. No one was. I don’t even know which hospital you’re in. I assumed Mt. Sinai because that’s where Liam works, but I don’t – ”

“Swan,” Killian interrupts as Emma keeps babbling. “Hey, hey, Emma, love. It’s okay. I’m fine. I am at Mt. Sinai. I’ve already had some tests done on my shoulder, and I’m sitting in Elsa’s office so it’s not like I’m laid up in a hospital bed. And I don’t have my phone. It’s in the locker room somewhere, probably, so that’s why I haven’t called you. I’m sorry.”

“How long are you going to be there? Can I come see you? Or should I just go home?”

“Where are you, love?”

“Maybe ten minutes away. I don’t – I got on the subway to go to your apartment first, but then I changed my mind and got off at the one hundred and third street station realizing that you were probably not there.”

“I think you’ve got a future career as a detective if this whole broadcasting thing doesn’t work out for you.” He smiles, even though she can’t see it, and he definitely ignores that look on Elsa and Liam’s faces. He’s had enough judgment from them today even if he deserves all of it. “How’d that go, by the way?”

There’s a loud blare through the phone followed by Emma cursing, and he chuckles to himself. “Can I tell you later? People don’t know how to drive, and I’m probably going to get run over even though I have the damn right of way.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll text you directions to her office.”

“Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Killian sighs. “I’ll see you soon.”

The call ends then, and he doesn’t even have time to digest it all before Elsa is speaking again and causing him some serious whiplash.

“What are you going to tell her when she gets here?”

He shrugs, as much as he can at least. “The truth.”

“All of it?”

That familiar sense of guilt settles in him again, pressing down on his shoulders like a ton of bricks, which really isn’t helpful right now when his shoulder is already in so much pain, but this is the situation he’s built for himself.

“What are you guys talking about?” Liam asks, and Killian has to bite his tongue. “Seriously. What?”

“Killian never told Emma about the full extent of the accident,” Elsa explains, rubbing the heels of her hands underneath her eyes. “And I’m guessing he’s been lying to her about how much his shoulder has been hurting too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck,” Killian groans, leaning forward to press his face into the stack of papers on Elsa’s desk, but that hurts his damn shoulder. “She’s going to be so pissed at me.”

“It’s not like you lied about something that’s fundamental to your relationship, though,” Liam says, obviously missing the point because he doesn’t know Emma like Killian knows Emma. “I think she’ll just be pissed like we are.”

“No, no she won’t.” Killian He rolls back in his chair and adjusts the strap that’s holding his ice pack there. “Emma’s got a pretty shitty history with people lying to her or not trusting her with things, and she’s going to be pissed that I did this. I don’t…there’s no way around that. I love her, and I wasn’t honest about the struggles I was going through.”

“It’s going to be fine, sweetie,” Elsa promises, but his mind is already running through worst case scenarios too.

He’s already lost the game again, temporarily at least, and he’s not sure that he can lose anything else.

For years he thought that losing the game would be the only thing possibley of beating him down and having him lose the spark for life that he has. Now he knows that’s not true.

Losing the game would hurt. Losing Emma would kill him.

Killian doesn’t count the ten minutes that it takes Emma to get to the hospital. He doesn’t need to. He feels every second of them. Before he knows it, there’s a timid knock on the door, and then Emma is walking through, her cheeks red and her hair windblown with her eyes widened. She looks like she just ran here instead of taking the train, and the big exhale that she lets out when she makes eye contact with him has him feeling like maybe he ran a marathon too.

Slowly, he stands up from the chair so as not to jostle his arm, and even though he can tell that Emma is a bit hesitant with Liam and Elsa in the room, she walks toward him and wraps her arms around his stomach so that he can feel her over feeling the throbbing in his arm.

“Hey,” he whispers as he rubs his hand up and down her back while his lips press into her forehead. “I’m okay. It’s all okay, love. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“My brain still has me convinced that you’re dead, so give me a minute.”

Killian chuckles. “Okay, okay, I can do that.”

For someone who is so keen on time today, Killian has no idea how long he stands there with Emma’s face buried in his shoulder and his hand on her back. He has no idea.

It’s not long enough though.

Because then Emma is pulling back, the warmth of her body disappearing, and she’s stepping away to wipe out the wrinkles in her dress skirt before moving to hug Liam and Elsa too., almost like she didn’t even realize they were in the room at first.

“So, what happened?” Emma asks. “You said your shoulder? What’s wrong with your shoulder?”

His eyes dart from the green pair to the two sets of blue, pleading for some kind of help in answering her question.

“Liam,” Elsa starts, grabbing onto her husband’s forearm, “why don’t we let them talk? Let’s go get some coffee.”

“You guys can stay,” Emma offers, a sweet, unknowing smile on her face.

“No, it’s fine, sweetie." Elsa nods her head at him, a soft smile on her face as well. “We’ve spent enough time with Killian. We’ll let you guys have this moment. Use my phone to text Liam when you leave, okay?”

“Yeah, Els. That’s fine. I love you guys.”

“Love you too,” Liam answers for them before they’re taking the few steps to the door and walking out of it, letting the wood frame click behind them.

And then he’s left with Emma.

“So, what’s wrong?” she asks again, sitting down in the chair that Elsa has across from her desk while he takes back his seat behind Elsa’s desk. “Did you throw out your shoulder? I know you’re, like, a whole ten months older than me, but I didn’t think you were that much of an old man.”

His chuckle is weak, but he’s thankful that Emma is at least in a bit of a joking mood. Today has been such a big day for her professionally, and he hates that he’s taken away from it.

“I have tendinitis in my rotator cuff.” He’s about to spew out a hell of a lot of information at her, but he doesn’t know how else to do it. The worry etched across Emma’s face certainly doesn’t help. “It’s not a big deal. I’m going to be out for hopefully no more than six weeks as long as I don’t fuck it up again, so I should be able to come back for the Championship Series, not that it matters. I’m in a lot of pain today, but it’s not always so bad.”

“What do you mean it’s not always so bad? Has this been happening more than just today?”

“For a couple of weeks. Maybe a month of two. I don’t – I’m not sure the exact moment that it happened, but it’s gotten worse recently. That day in Boston where we got blown out of the water and I pissed everyone off by being a jackass? That was probably the worst of it on a game day until today.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Emma sighs, holding her hands up to him as her brows furrow, those little worry lines popping up on her forehead. “You’ve been feeling this for more than today? And you didn’t say anything? Not to me or your family or even Archie? You’re a pitcher, Killian. You’ve been warned about rotator cuff injuries your entire life, and you didn’t think to say something?”

“I was scared.”

“Of what?” she asks before she gets up to pace back and forth in the same path as Liam before her. “All you had to do was say that your shoulder was bothering you, you’re benched for a week or two, and you have time to heal. Then you’re not getting carted off in the middle of games while I’m left sitting in a booth with two assholes who couldn’t care less about you being injured and who made jokes about it while I felt like I could throw up the entire time.”

“Emma – ”

“What?”

“I have something else to tell you.”

Her eyes flicker over him as she crosses her arm over her chest, tugging her dress down and bringing attention to the fact that she’s wearing his mom’s ring around her neck. He’d nearly forgotten about that, only remembered really when his hands absentmindedly reached for it out of habit.

“What do you have to tell me?”

Killian swallows, kind of feeling like he’s going to throw up too. It’s not a big deal. It can’t be. Emma will understand. He’s lying to himself thinking that, but that’s what he has to do.

“When Liam and I were in the boating accident, when I had an open fracture on my arm, I also had a rotator cuff tear. It’s why I didn’t come back at all that season. It’s why I have the small scars on my shoulder.” Emma stops pacing and turns to look at him, worry written all over her face as his own worry constricts his throat. “No one knows about it. Only my family, Archie, and the doctors in Florida who did my surgery. I never told anyone because I didn’t want to be seen as weak. I’d finally gotten myself together, stopping the drinking and the women and every other dumb decision I was making, and there I was having my life torn away from me again. I guess I was so over being pitied and being looked down upon that I rationalized not telling anyone. I thought that if everyone didn’t know, things would be just fine. Life would go on as normal, and that’s all I wanted.”

He takes a breath and tries to figure out what’s going on in Emma’s head, but he can’t tell. There’s no emotion on her face. Absolutely none at all.

“Last season,” Killian continues. “I played with pain. It wasn’t much, and it was really more when I was working my way back than anything. By the time we made it to the Series, I felt fine. This season, not so much. It’s hurt randomly. Sometimes on game days. Sometimes when I’m waking up in the morning or in the middle of the night. Those days I can’t really move it for awhile. I – I know I shouldn’t have ignored the signs, Swan, but I couldn’t have it all taken away from me again. I just couldn’t.”

He’s not even sure if he said everything he needed to say. He’s got no clue. If he had to, he couldn’t even repeat the words that just passed through his lips. But they’re out there, and the bricks on his shoulders don’t feel quite so heavy.

“Every time we’ve talked about the accident,” Emma starts, and he recognizes the change of tone in her voice immediately, “you have never once mentioned that you tore your rotator cuff and that you had to have surgery to repair it. I would get you keeping that from me as a journalist but not as your girlfriend. How many times have we talked about that day, Killian? How often have we discussed it? How often have you sat there and lied to my face about it? And not only it. Every time you’ve been in pain this year, you’ve lied to me. This morning when I asked you what was wrong, you lied to me. In Boston when we were mad at each other, you lied to me. And those are just the times that I know of. I’m sure there are more. I can’t…”

“Swan, I’m sorry, okay?” he pleads. She shakes her head from side to side, and he rises from his the chair to come to the other side of the desk, leaning against the wood so that they’re not separated by it. “I wanted to tell you. I kept telling myself that I would and that maybe I’d work up the courage to say what was going on, but I never could.”

The clench in Emma’s jaw is visible, especially when she turns to the side to look away with another shake of her head. “I am sorry that you have been through so much, that you are still going through so much. I love you. I really do. But it almost makes it worse to me that you’ve known you were keeping something from me and still didn’t tell me. It doesn’t matter what it is. You actively lied to me, and I am not okay with that.”

“I was terrified, Emma. Don’t you get that?”

Her head turns back to him then, green eyes full of tears, and he can barely hear anything over the sound of his heart thumping.

“I think I just…I think I need some time is all.”

“Emma – ”

“No, Killian,” she starts, holding her hand up and stepping backward, “I need time. Because I’ve trusted you with so much of what’s going on in my life, I’ve let myself lean on you and need you more than I have ever let myself need someone else, and you couldn’t bother doing the same. Why couldn’t you bother doing the same? This is the same exact thing that’s happened to me every time I’ve put my heart on the line, and I – I need some time to think.”

“Emma.”

“I’ll call you soon,” she says as she rises from the chair, but he’s not sure that he believes her. “You have Liam and Elsa to take care of you, right?”

“Aye,” he nods, biting his tongue at all of the things he wants to say right now. Emma is fighting between wanting him to be okay and being upset with him. He can tell, and he has to respect her wishes right now. In a few days, it’ll be different. But damn if this doesn’t hurt. “I don’t…I’m sorry. I promise I didn’t mean to hurt you, love. That was not my intention here.”

“I know. That’s what makes this worse.” Emma blinks, her lips pressed together, before silently walking out the door and leaving him sitting there.

Alone.

Fuck.

He knew it was going to happen, and not even that could have prepared him for it.

But all she said was that she needed time, right? She didn’t yell at him saying that they were over, that she was breaking up with him, that she didn’t love him anymore. None of that was mentioned, so there’s hope, right?

There has to be hope.

It doesn’t matter that he didn’t hurt her in the same way that Neal and Walsh hurt her, that he didn’t hurt her the way the foster system did. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t maliciously set out to inflict pain. What matters is that she’s upset with his actions, with his lies, and who is he to try to say what she can be mad about and what she can’t be mad about?

He’s no one.

Only Emma can decide how she feels about things.

He probably deserves all of this for how much of an asshole he is.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

And he’s still got to tell his team. And Ariel will have to release a statement and oh shit, Ariel. She’s going to murder him.

She really is.

Killian uses Elsa’s phone to text Liam that he and Emma are finished talking and that he’s going home now. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t give any more details. No one needs any. They know where they live, and if all else fails, he will answer their texts from his laptop.

When he gets home fifteen minutes later, though, he sees it sitting on his coffee table and ignores it. He’s really not in the mood to talk to anyone or to do anything. All he wants is to take a shower and wash this damn day away. It’s not like he’s got any deadlines anymore or anything to do.

He can’t even do his job.

And it’s his fault.

How could he have been so stupid?

The moment Killian walks into his bedroom, he sees Emma’s clothes everywhere. She’d brought over a bag of things last night, outfits that she was considering wearing but hadn’t decided on, as well as seemingly everything else she owns. She’s not the neatest person in the world, never has been, but it seems that this morning she was determined to make her mark on every single inch of this room.

She did a damn good job at it.

Killian’s sure that she was planning on cleaning it up when she came back here tonight. They were going to celebrate her tonight. He had a whole dinner prepared that he was going to cook. All of the ingredients are in his fridge as well as Emma’s favorite whiskey and a chocolate and cherry cake that he baked because he knows that she loves those.

They never even got to talk about how it was for her today.

How could he have ruined a day that was so important to her?

And he knows that he’s ruined it. He does. He knows that she’s probably in her apartment right now fielding questions from everyone about what it was like, how she liked it, if she wants to do it again. And she’s fielding questions about how he is and why she’s not with him. He doesn’t know what she’ll say, if she’ll say anything at all, and for as many times as he’s hated himself, he doesn’t think he’s ever hated himself as much as he does right now for upsetting Emma.

This is not how things are supposed to be.

He doesn’t bother picking her clothes up, leaving all of them where they are. That’s something he’ll deal with later. He’s going to take a shower right now, and absolutely nothing is going to stop him.

Except for the yellow and blue sticky notes pressed in a line on his bathroom mirror over where Emma has left her curling iron.

I promise I’m going to clean up my things later. Don’t get all tense about it if you see it all before I do.

Thank you for being such a big supporter of me and “cheering me on.”

We’re both going to kick ass today.

I love you, Killian Jones.

Killian’s stomach twists at the last one, and he carefully pulls it off the mirror so that he can run his fingers over the words there as well as the lipstick mark that she left.

“I love you too, Emma,” he mutters to himself in the silence of the bathroom.

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

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iwillbeinmynest · 5 years

Text

Hold On Loosely - Biker!Steve x Reader (f) Chapter 2

Authors Notes: I’m so happy with the positive response this fic has gotten! Thank y’all so much!! If you’d like to be tagged please send me an ask. I keep better track of tags that way.

Word Count: 1.3k +

Special Thanks: Here’s to @itsanerdlife for fueling my Biker obsession and being my Beta for this whole thing. To my girl over at @girl-next-door-writes who also beta’ed for me. And an extra shout out to @bettercallsabs for this beautiful graphic. She is amazing and y’all need to check her out!!

Notes/Warnings: (My notes and warnings are for the story as a whole. Some notes and Warnings will not apply to every chapter.) smoking (I do not support smoking. keep your lungs clean y’all.) drinking, (be of age, don’t be stupid) minor violence, backstabbing, attempted murder, anxiety, stress, mentions of death, car accident, trauma, …I think that’s it. let me know if I’ve missed something.

Chapter 2

Steve was up early, like he normally was, and had a prospect watch Y/N’s door while he went for a quick run around the property. When he got back she was up and sitting at the bar working on some scrambled eggs.

Clint peaked from the kitchen window and nodded to Steve as he dried some dishes.

Steve nodded back and Y/N looked his way. “I’ll be ready to take you home in a few.”

“Don’t rush on my account.” She said softly and turned back to her breakfast.

The last thing Steve heard, as he headed down the hallway to take a shower, was Clint asking her if she wanted anything else. His mind raced with thoughts of her. She was in last night’s clothes and she still looked beautiful. He wondered if she always looked this good in the morning and if she’d look even better in his shirt. He cursed under his breath as he let the hot water run over him. He shouldn’t be thinking like that. He didn’t even know her, what with her secrets and all. Her mystery husband or whatever the heck was going on with that. All he had to do was get through the ride home and then he’d be done with her. Right?

Her purse was already on her shoulder and she was standing by the door when he stepped out from the back hallway. He didn’t say anything to her, just traded her purse for a helmet and opened the door for her. They walked across the gravel to his cherry red Harley. After he put her purse in his saddle bag, he turned the key and let the engine roar to life. She tried to hide it but Steve saw her swallow hard and noticed her breathing quickened as she swung her leg over behind him. She grabbed his Kutte at the arms and gripped so tight he almost laughed.

“Gotta loosen up or I can’t use my arms right.” He smirked, knowing she couldn’t see him. It was always obvious when someone was taking their first ride.

“Sorry,” Was muttered from her helmet as she moved her hands to grip around his chest. Her hold wasn’t any lighter and Steve grinned knowing she was so desperate to hold on to him.

No. She was married. He just needed to drop her off and move on.

Steve shook his head and heeled the kickstand, knocking it off the gravel driveway and into its spot under the bike. He revved the engine and she grabbed even tighter.

The ride went by quicker than he wanted but if he had to choose a highlight it would be when he’d tap her hands at every stoplight asking her to relax her grip only for it to be like a Boa again when the light turned green.

He pulled up to the sidewalk in front of her building and relaxed in his seat. There was something about just sitting on his bike that put him at ease, which he needed since she was driving him crazy.

“You’re boyfriend home or do I need to walk you up?” He asked when she handed him his helmet back. She chewed on her lip as he handed her her purse back.

Y/N swayed and ran her finger over her rings. “I can make it from here.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Steve couldn’t help the sharp tone in his voice but he felt bad

about it.

She tensed and scowled. “That’s really none of your business. Thanks for taking me home. Drive safe.” She turned on her heal and headed up the short flight of stairs to her door. She opened it and shut it quickly.

Steve shook his head and scoffed. He secured the extra helmet and was just about to turn the key when he heard her scream. He jumped off his bike and ran up the steps, kicking the door open as he went. He pulled a knife out of his pocket and prepared himself for a fight.

“Y/N!” Steve’s heart was pounding in his chest but he kept a level head. Her whole house was trashed. There were wires sticking out from the walls where a TV would have been, the kitchen was a mess with broken plates and silverware on the floor and down a short hall all the pictures on the wall had either been disturbed or busted.

“In here,” Y/N’s voice sounded more defeated than alarmed.

Steve rounded the corner and found Y/N sitting on her knees in her wrecked bedroom. She cradled an empty box in her hand.

Knowing she was safe, he left her to make sure the house was empty. When he came back, she was sitting on her bed sobbing.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Do I look okay?!” She snapped. “It’s all gone! Everything I had left is gone.”

Steve didn’t understand. “It’s just stuff. It could have been worse, you could have been home and whoever did this could have hurt you. TV’s can be replaced, you-”

“I don’t care about the TV’s!” She looked genuinely offended. “All I had left of Danny was in this box. All the most important things are gone now. I have nothing left of him, now.” A sob ripped through her and she burst into tears again.

Steve finally had some more pieces to her puzzle. She did have a husband but, he was gone. Dead, Steve assumed by her grief.

Silently, he backed out of her room and stepped out the front door to make a call. The phone only rang twice.

“You good?” Bucky answered.

“We’re fine but her house got broken into. She’s a mess.” He filled in quickly.

He heard Nat in the background shout, “What?”

“Yeah, textbook robbery. Electronics and small appliances are gone, including most of her jewelry. But she’s real upset about this one box. I think it used to keep her old man’s stuff.”

“Did you clear the house?” Bucky sounded alert but relaxed.

“Yeah, it's clear.”

“I'm sending Clint and Sam to you.” Bucky said and Steve could hear him throw a set of keys. “They're bringing the truck.”

Steve nodded. “Okay.”

“Nat wants her here.” Steve could tell Bucky was looking at his wife and relaying the order.

“I'll do my best.” Steve didn’t think he could convince her to come back to the compound.

A clatter on the phone and Nat's voice came through. “Let me talk to her.” She said and her concern was audible.

“Yes ma'am,” Steve walked back inside and found Y/N sweeping up the glass from her shattered coffee table that littered the entire living room. “It's for you.” He held the phone out to her.

She sighed and put her broom down. She took the phone and bit her lip before she put it to her ear. “Hello?”

Steve could hear the faint tone of Nat's voice, although he couldn't make out what she was saying.

“Yeah, I'm fine…no, I don't...I don’t want to-...I should really stay and clean up…”

Whatever Nat said next caused tears to prick at Y/N's eyes. She wiped them before they could fall and sniffed. Steve felt like he was invading and looked at the floor, kicking around a few shards of glass.

“Yeah, okay, but just a few nights.” Y/N tried to compose herself. “Okay...Sure. Thank you.” She extended the phone back to him and wiped her eyes again.

“Hey,” Steve said, nodding to Y/N as she tried to muster a smile.

“She’s going to pack up.” Nat spoke softly. Steve watched Y/N head back down the hall to her room. “I'm sending a few prospects with Clint and Sam. They're gonna clean her house up and stay there over the next few nights to make sure no one messes with it again.”

Bucky came back on. “How fast can you get her out of there? She might not take to kindly to a bunch of strange men coming over after this.”

“We can be out in thirty. I’ll make Sam bring her bag back..”

“Good call,” Bucky said. “Ride safe.”

“Always do.” And Steve hung up.

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

Forever Tags:

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Hold On Loosely Tags:

@jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @kaylaphantomhive @patzammit @queenkrissy11 @a-distantdreamer @patodoto @marvelous-capsicle @marvelfansince08love

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damn-behzinga · 5 years

Text

Toxic

Will's Friend Otis pt 2

Will Lenney Centric

part 1

summary- a look through social media as Will deals with his mental health

warnings- swearing, ANXIETY AND DEPRESSION, my terrible writing, toxic "fans"

Instagram ● @/willneisalpha

[A video of Will on the XO podcast from almost a year ago. He says, "Yeah my flat doesn't allow dog's." And then it shows a more recent clip of him saying, "So I got a dog recently."]

willneisalpha So we gonna brush over this? Also he got Otis really suddenly like no warning or hints? wtf

23 Comments

georgeisdaddy ikr I was sh00k for like 20000 hours

5d • 3 likes • Reply

alexisgaylolzor Does it matter though?

5d • 12 likes • Reply

● @/willsbigwilly

[A series of photos of Will and Otis posted only a few days after the original one. The photo is of Will holding Otis like a baby that was originally posted on his story. It's the same one except zoomed in on Otis' collar. The last photo has a massive circle round part of the tag.]

willsbigwilly does the collar say 'ESA' on it? that means emotional support animal? is Will alright?

Comments

jasmine I hope he's okay :( the idea of him needing an ESA makes me upset

3 hours • 21 likes • Reply

It had already been a tense day for Will, with his newest post causing an array of suspicion from his fans, he was on the verge of a panic attack.

He had debated whether to delete the post but that would raise more suspicion. He couldn't do that.

Otis had one hundred percent attention on his owner and, yet, Will didn't calm down.

Will also had several meetings today which meant he had to venture outside and face the busy streets. Despite all her best efforts, Gee couldn't stop Will from leaving the house. These meetings were important, Will could not miss them.

So, although she wasn't surprised that he had one, Gee was horrified to see pictures and videos of Will having a panic attack online.

Fans were already speculating that Will was hiding something, so this really made them worry. Gee noticed some 'fans' were becoming impatient and angry, demanding to know what was going on. Angry tweets and posts were flooding in to not only Will, but Gee and their entire friend group. Otis' "ESA" collar now caused more drama and confusion.

Will spiraled when he got home. Becoming quiet and ignoring everyone. He tried to stay of social media but his Twitter hadn't been this active since his last video blew up.

American Idiot @/losermajorwannabe

just saw @/willne having a panic attack????? what the fuck? not a big fan but jeez man leave it for your home 👀

[Video Attachment: The video is zoomed in on Will crying as some random person helps him alongside Otis. The person behind the camera is snickering meaning the camera shakes bit it's still clearly Will.]

replying to @/losermajorwannabe

Sub 2 WillNE @/memetimez

How about you stop being so fucking disrespectful and take down this post? If Will wanted to talk about it he would've? ???

replying to @/losermajorwannabe

Lucy Stans Dan @/lucylastname

He could've told us? Is that why he suddenly got Otis? Is that why he's been acting off? SO! MANY! QUESTIONS!

"Hey Will we still up for filming today?" Alex's chirpy voice beamed loudly as he walked into Will's bedroom with Otis bounding in behind him.

Will rolled over to look at Alex and felt an ice cold dread travel down his spine. "Sorry, mate, I'm just not feeling it today?" His voice came out in a questioning tone.

"Wanna talk about it?" Alex asked and Otis jumped on the bed and wondered over to Will to nudge him up.

Will sighed as Alex sat at the edge of his bed.

"I dunno why! I've tried getting up, made my bed, cleaned up shit that was left out everywhere, fed Otis. And- for some fucking reason- everything feels wrong and I'm so tired and the idea of staying locked in my room forever seems so appealing!" It was true. Will did everything as normal, even posted some photos on social media but, for whatever reason, Will felt wrong. Tears ran out of Will's eyes as he explained. "I have tried to do shit today, I promise!"

Alex quickly reached foreward and engulfed his friend in a hug.

Alex rested a hand on the back of Will's head pulled him into his neck. As if he was protecting him, maybe looking after him. "Is this about what happened the other day? Because I can assure you that was not your fault."

"It's not that- it's probably adding to it but it's mainly my stupid head and my stupid, shitty thoughts!" Will went to claw at his forehead.

Alex quickly grabbed Will's hand and pulled it down. "None of that mate, c'mon. You've been doing so well." He whispered as Otis licked Will's cheek.

Will sobbed out a "I'm sorry!" as Alex stroked through Will's knotty hair.

"No need to say sorry!" Alex muttered. "How about you have a shower and I'll make a plan on we'll get through this." Will nodded and Alex helped him up and walked him to the shower.

"Do you mind leaving the door unlocked?" Will shot Alex a look.

"What you gonna do?" Will chuckled. "Nonse on me?"

"Oh fuck off!" Alex groaned. "Just in case you need Otis or me or something!" Will suddenly tensed.

"I'm not a baby!" He growled.

Alex raised his hands in defence. "Never said you were, mate! It's just in case!"

Will felt his cheeks warm up and he glanced away, snatching the towel that hang from Alex's hands.

Alex waited until he heard the water start running before he looked at the tweets. Disgust flooded through him. How dare these people, these 'fans' that Will like this? He realised Will had two options at this point.

"You can either tell them or ignore it!" Alex said as Will thew on a hoodie.

"I can't tell them mate!" Will exclaimed. "They will freak out and I don't want that!"

"It's either that or they get pissed off that your keeping secrets." Gee leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed. "It doesn't have to be a big thing? Just a tweet or something?"

"They're gonna pity me." Will groaned head in hands. "How can I deal with that?"

"They're gonna support you no matter what." Alex sighed, squatting down and placing his hands on Will's knees.

"I'm so scared." Will whimpered, curling in on himself. Gee almost cried, he looked so small. She rested a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay to be scared." She whispered, scared to break or hurt him. "But you'll feel so much better once you tell them."

Will nodded and looked up at them. "I'll make a video." He mumbled, slowly unfolding himself. "Not now. When I feel a tad better."

"Of course." Alex smiled.

They sat in silence for a bit, the only noise being quiet sniffles coming from Will.

"I might," Will's voice was croaky as he spoke. "I might go stay with my parents for a bit? I dunno, might just get away for a bit."

Alex and Gee nodded.

"Of course, love." Alex smiled softly. "Whatever you need to get better."

"Can I have a few minutes please?" Will mumbled, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Of course. We'll be outside." Gee smiled and walked out the room alongside Alex.

Will let out a soft sigh and stood up, reaching for his phone. His shaking hands clicked on his mum's contact and put his phone to his ear.

"Hello dear, you alright?"

"Mum?" Will croaked out before the flood gates opened.

"Oh honey, what's up?"

"I want to come home!" Will cried.

"It's okay, honey, you're okay. Can you tell me why?"

"Everything is so hard! I want to get away!" Will's sobs were becoming more erratic. "I want to go home!"

"Breathe for a second, okay?"

"It's so hard."

"I know dear. Can you breathe in for four seconds? Hold for six. Out for eight. Can you do that?"

"Y- yes."

"You're doing brilliant, sweetheart.. Are you feeling any better?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Alright, darling, how about you come home tomorrow? We'll have a nice day together? And you can go back to your flat whenever you want."

"Okay. I love you." Will said quietly.

"I love you too."

That night Gee helped Will pack, making him pack a week's worth of clothes alongside a pillow because "It's a little reminder of home!". Will also had a mini mental breakdown when he realised that he hadn't pre-filmed videos. 'Mini mental breakdown' was Will setting his equipment up whilst tears streamed down his face and repeated "I'm a fuck up, should've thought about this." over and over again. Gee had to tell Will that he had already made two videos and that she could put together bloopers for him. She then told him to get Otis' energy out to distract him. This meant Will would run around the flat with Otis and throwing toys for Otis to fetch. Gee finished packing for Will and then stared at his empty room. She wiped away her tears before they could fall. She was going to miss him, she couldn't imagine how his closer friends were feeling.

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samayla · 5 years

Text

An Utterly Impractical Magician

Chapter 6

A Jane Eyre/Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell fusion fic.

Also on AO3

Summary: When John Reed burnt Thomas Godbless’ book of magic to spite his cousin, he had no idea how drastically he would alter both her fate and that of English magic.

@majorxbuddyxboy @shygaladriel @bookhobbit @wolfinthethorns @kaethe-nicole @warsawmouse @cassandravision@mythopoeticreality@jmlascar@seriouslythoughguys @isawatreetoday@rude-are-food @the-stars-above28@the-candor-shadowhunter

Let me know if any of you would like to be added/removed in the tags list.

This chapter went much faster than I anticipated. Hope you enjoy!

The Girl in the Chapel

Lowood School, July 1805

Lowood School was the perfect place for a man of Childermass’ skills to move about unseen. Shadows congregated there, even in broad daylight. They spilled from doorways and dripped from the walls, and pooled beneath the dark, somber bonnets worn by all the pupils. Childermass had spent days lurking about the place, watching, learning, and gathering leverage to use against the puffed-up old headmaster, while he awaited a final ruling from the girl’s aunt.

About the girl herself, there was no shortage of gossip to be heard. Brocklehurst maintained that she was a liar, a troublemaker, and a danger to everyone in his school, and he had bullied most of his staff into believing the same. They spoke scathingly of the stories she told of faerie mischief, of sparks and ashes and nightmares that came true. They lamented her stubbornness, her lies, and her blatant disrespect for the headmaster. The more superstitious among them claimed she was a changeling, and they blamed her for all manner of misfortunes: that spring’s typhus epidemic, or a recent outbreak of headlice, or even the slugs in the garden.

Many of the students capitalized freely upon those beliefs. They bragged to one another of the misdeeds they’d managed to pin on her. Broken slates, stained dresses, spilled inkwells… It seemed that if anything went awry at Lowood School, it was Jane Eyre’s fault.

Some were awed by her seeming ingenuity and creativity, wondering aloud how she’d managed to set a live badger loose in the schoolroom without once moving from the front desk. The most popular theory held that she’d somehow tamed the beast — and some of the girls claimed she’d enchanted it with faerie magic — and smuggled it in beneath her skirt. When the headmaster had laid into her that last time, the badger had risen to the defense of its mistress. To a small handful of girls, Jane Eyre had become something of a patron saint, the physical embodiment of mischief, freedom, and the apparently universal hatred of Mr Brocklehurst.

Whether they thought her sinner or saint or changeling child, everyone at Lowood waited to hear what the headmaster meant to do about her.

But as much as he had wandered about the school, Childermass could find no trace of the girl beyond her reputation. She wasn’t in the dormitory, or the schoolroom, or out on the lawn. She wasn’t scrubbing pots in the kitchen, or pulling weeds from the turnip beds. At last, quite by chance, he felt a familiar, if faint, thread of magic that drew him to the chapel.

A pitiful little bundle of leaves lay inside the door. A scrap of tattered lace bound the leaves to a stick, atop which sat an acorn, smeared charcoal picking out eyes and mouth. The acorn was split, and some of the leaves were coming loose from the lace tie. Another faint wave of dizzying magic had him fearing the worst, but a faint sniffle came from the corner on the other side of the altar, and he realized the ruin in his hand really was only a doll. He tucked it into a pocket for safekeeping, not sure who had broken it, or why they had done so.

Childermass kept to the shadows. He did not mean to speak to the girl, did not wish to offer her false hope in the event that her aunt caused yet more trouble. He wished only to see her, to confirm for himself that she was alright, that he had heeded his cards’ warning in time.

If not for the sickly, grey-green plaster creeping slowly in from the edges of her dress, Childermass might not have believed it was really Jane Eyre huddled in that corner. She bore little resemblance to the fierce little creature he’d met in the library so many months ago. While she had been pale and thin then, now she had the pinched, knobbly look of a child who was growing far too fast for her meager diet to keep up. She stared at nothing in particular, a slack frown further proof of her disinterest in even the encroaching plaster that threatened to consume her entirely.

Childermass was torn. His firm conviction that it would be better to keep her in the dark until matters were settled, seemed suddenly shortsighted and cruel. As in her aunt’s house, the girl was utterly alone. She could fade right into the chapel wall, and no one would notice, but for the way it interrupted the ghastly motif of demonic lambs. How could it hurt, even if he could not take her away immediately, to tell her that someone was there, that someone cared whether she lived or died or disappeared entirely?

He pulled a card from his pocket.

The Empress: nurturing, abundance, life in bloom.

The girl shifted suddenly, her attention snagged by her left hand. She raised it slightly, sending plaster crackling away from her elbow, and stared with a sort of detached curiosity at her bloodied palm. The spark of interest faded, and she returned her hand to her lap, and dropped her head back to the wall, where the plaster immediately began to creep into the edges of her bonnet.

“Hello there, Little Miss,” Childermass murmured, crouching before her and letting his shadows fall away. Already he was tucking his card away and pulling his handkerchief from an inner pocket.

She blinked in surprise, before her face slackened once more. “I haven’t any books for you today, sir,” she mumbled. “I am sorry for in-inconveniencing you.” Her lip trembled, and her cheeks flushed pink in her pale face, and she looked at anything but him.

“I’m not here for books, Little Miss,” said Childermass gently. He carefully reached in to inspect one hand, then the other. “I am here to see you.” Beyond the tangling burn scars that climbed halfway up her forearms — doubtless from the incident in the library all those months ago — her hands were swollen and bloodied from a brutal caning. Childermass was no stranger to such injuries himself, having been caught out by the local magistrates on more than one occasion in his pickpocketing days. He ripped his handkerchief in two and began carefully wrapping her palms to halt the sluggish bleeding for now, until he had charge of her and could tend to the injuries properly.

Jane flinched as he drew the first knot tight, and plaster cracked and flaked around her. “Have you taken good care of my books, sir?” she asked at last.

“They’ve had better care than you have, Little Miss,” he tried teasing as he finished with her second hand.

“I’m glad,” said the girl, smiling a little, as though the news had eased something in her, but still the plaster crept over her, nearly reaching her bodice now.

He wished to see her animated once more. Fierce and defiant. Even the magic in the air was limp and listless now, and he felt only the barest trace of dizziness at his proximity to it. Her current state alarmed him far more than he would care to admit, even to Lucy, who had guessed it. It would seem he was attached to the little book-murderer after all. “Would you like to see them again?” Childermass asked, unable to help himself.

Jane looked up sharply, seeming to register him properly for the first time. The plaster on her skirt cracked and crumpled as she sat up straighter. “You’re really here? Truly?”

He laughed and answered that he was. “What did you think, Little Miss? That you had conjured me from air and shadow?”

She blushed properly, bright spots of color warming her pallid cheeks and throat, right down to the collar of her dress.

Taking that for a promising sign, Childermass took her by the elbows and tugged her free of the wall. “Come on, then, Little Miss. Up you get. Let’s have a look at you.” The plaster crumbled away to form a little heap on the damp floor as he chafed her arms to coax some warmth back into them.

“Will you take me away like you did my books?” the girl asked carefully, staring at Childermass as though afraid he might vanish if she were to so much as blink.

“There are some matters yet to be settled between the headmaster, your aunt, and myself,” he answered carefully.

Her face fell, as if she had known better than to hope.

“Take heart, Little Miss,” he scolded gently, lifting her chin to stare firmly into her mismatched eyes. Shapeless spills of black ink drifted aimlessly across her grey eye. “I’ve a mind to reunite you with your books as soon as I can arrange it.” He pulled a card from his pocket — the Star, of all things. “You take this now, and take good care of it. This cards says hope and luck are on our side. It is one of my favorite cards, so I don’t mean to be without it for long, and I certainly wouldn’t like to return and find it a smear of paint in this dismal little pit they call a chapel, understand?”

She looked down at her dress, now largely plaster-free, but still the color of the drab paint on the wall. The face of a lamb was imprinted upon the fabric near the hem. Color blossomed on her cheeks once more. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“Good girl,” he praised. “Now, I saw someone’s left you an oat cake and a cup of water by the door. You must promise me you will eat and drink after I’m gone. I mean to have words with your foul headmaster, and I won’t have you starving yourself any more than he’s already done.” She didn’t answer right away, so he stood and gave her a very stern look, indeed. “I want your word on it, Little Miss.”

“You have it, sir.”

Childermass stayed long enough to see that she at least took a sip of the water. Satisfied that she was drinking something, even if she was not interested in eating the petrified oat cake, he left to see a man about a troublemaker.

#eyre/strange fusion #jsamn #jane eyre #childermass #!!!#kate writes

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wildestdaydreamer · 5 years

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Killer Queen Part 1: Lucy Boynton x Reader

This story was written for @fredthelegend ‘s Writing Challenge. I suspect there will be one more part of the story, but there might be two. If you want tagged in the next part let me know!

It’s a Lucy Boynton x Female Reader story inspired loosely by the song Killer Queen.

You met Lucy Boynton for the first time on the set of Bohemian Rhapsody. You were working on the set as an errand girl. Bringing people coffee mostly. What was it with Hollywood and coffee? Why didn't anyone sleep? Maybe they didn't have time for that.

You have always been a fan of Queen and you were thrilled to be working on the set. Lucy was dressed up in a vintage dress and she looked like a supermodel straight out of the seventies.

"Hello! Miss Boyton?" you asked. "I have your latte."

"Thank you. Please call me Lucy," she said. "I believe this is the part where you say your name."

Suddenly it seemed hard to form words and even remember who you were. You had known plenty of pretty girls, but Lucy was something else entirely. She was not only drop-dead gorgeous but she had an aura about her. Even with Rami Malek here pretending to be Freddie Mercury she commanded the room. All eyes were on her, and she knew it.

Lucy sipped on her latte, giving you a look that you couldn't interpret. "What's your name?" she asked and you remembered that you had just been staring at her dumbly.

"I'm Y/N," you said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude."

"You weren't rude, love," Lucy said. "Are you busy right now? I could use help with a few things. I could use an assistant."

You were supposed to report back to your supervisor after handing out the drinks, but as Lucy was last and you didn't want to pass up the opportunity, you risked your job and said "No, I'm not busy at all. What did you need help with?"

It turned out Lucy needed a great deal of help with a lot of things. You found yourself ironing her clothes, preparing her meals, and going shopping for her. Her latest request was to buy her some lingerie. Something "classy but sexy. Understated, but attention-grabbing. Maybe red."

You were about to confess you had no idea how to shop for lingerie when she gave you a knowing look. "It won't be that hard. I'll get you my measurements. Haven't you ever bought lingerie for yourself?" When you shook your head she said. "It's not all that different than buying bras."

You nodded your head not wanting to admit your underwear was basic and functional, not made to seduce. Everything was a whirlwind with Lucy. She had a hundred different things going on at once and she had latched onto you to take care of some of those responsibilities.

"I'll do my best," you said.

"Just pick something you would like if you were buying it for your girlfriend," Lucy said.

"What?" You asked surprised. You weren't hiding you liked women, but she seemed so assured in her words. "I don't have a girlfriend."

"Excellent," Lucy said. "I'll catch you tomorrow. I have a few things I need to take care of..."

What had that all been about? Maybe Lucy just liked making people feel uncomfortable. She was always polite, always friendly, and yet there was a demure sarcasm in her voice that set you off kilter.

Armed with Lucy's measurements you figure you'll ask someone who worked at the store to help you find something suitable.

Pick something you would like if you were buying it for your girlfriend.

That was crazy. You had had girlfriends before, but you didn't go out and buy them lingerie. The Lucys of the world seemed to live by different rules. What would it like to be that beautiful? To have everyone eating out of the palm of your hand?

Even though you had tried to dress up, you still looked out of place in the lingerie store. Or maybe it was just in your head because you were uncomfortable.

"Hello," a saleswoman asked. She was wearing a corset top that left little to the imagination with shiny black leggings and heels. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Uh... yes," you said. "I'm looking for something for my boss..." She gave you a look. "I mean, I'm her assistant she hasn't the time to shop this week. She's working on a movie."

"Did she have anything in particular in mind?" the saleswoman asked.

You repeated exactly what Lucy had said. "Classy but sexy, understated but attention-grabbing, maybe red."

"Hmm... She didn't specify any material?"

"No." Dammit, you should have asked that. Was she supposed to get something lacy? Something leather? Something silk? "But I have her measurements."

"Let's see what we can find."

The next day, you had something picked out for Lucy. You couldn't help but imagine her in it. You wondered who she would be with. You were irrationally jealous. You were just her assistant. This was no different from bringing coffee or getting her laundry. You were a professional.

Except, you had gotten fired from your original job on set, and you had no idea if Lucy was actually going to pay you. You did all kinds of assistant duties, but you technically had never been hired. Somehow this didn't bother you as much as it should have. You wanted to be on a movie set. You wanted to be a part of the biopic. That was it. Right?

You stopped by her trailer, not only with your new lingerie purchase but with her favourite drink as well. There were about five different instructions you had to tell the barista in order to get a blend that would satisfy Lucy.

"Lucy, are you here?" you asked.

She answered the door and immediately took the coffee. You wondered how she never ruined her lipstick on the foamy drink. "Y/N. I'm actually really busy, I can't stay long. Did you bring me the lingerie."

"I did," you said, handing her the bag.

"I've got to bounce, I'll see you tomorrow," Lucy said, hurrying out of her trailer and away. You watched her leave, noticing the way she walked. You cursed yourself under your breath. Why would you ever be stupid enough to catch feelings for Lucy Boynton?

#ftlchallenge #lucy boynton #lucy boynton imagine #my writing #my stuff #femslash february

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