#the only one that kept Rochester's laugh

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Jane's first meeting with Mr. Rochester - Jane Eyre (1996)

#Jane Eyre #Jane Eyre 1996 #the only one that kept Rochester's laugh

[starsstruck]

cloudbusting; part four.

a classic coffee shop story. harry is a painter that quickly becomes a regular at his neighbourhood cafe, and it just might have something to do with a certain barista. horoscope readings, mandarin oranges, and star-gazing strolls.

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language, mentions of anxiety words: 13k

series masterlist

art by holly warburton. (i have no vision for the mc of the fic, people in the images of paintings i use are purely because this is how i envision harry’s art to be)

a/n: thank you for being patient with me for this chapter, i hope everything turned out okay ! a big huge thank you to the amazing tina @sunflowers-styles​ for helping me out and being the best beta ily ❤️❤️ as always let me know what you think and please share if you can ! i love to hear everyone's thoughts and comments <3 happy reading !

Sat comfortably on Mae’s couch, you were taking a big bite of the hummus covered carrot that you had just grabbed.

“I have some frozen perogies!”

Mae’s voice floated from the kitchen, both of your laziness to make a proper dinner was about to be satisfied with hummus and snacks before Mae started digging through her fridge.

“That sounds perfect!” You called back, reaching over her coffee table for another carrot. You could hear her shuffling through the kitchen, reappearing by the couch with a box of herb flavoured crackers in hand.

“I’ll put them on later,” she hummed, seating herself next to you while turning down the volume of the Fiona Apple that was playing through the speaker. “Don’t feel like cooking just yet.”

“How was the weekend away?”

Mae had just come back from a two-night stay with her partner’s parents, at their place out in Rochester. “It was good – honestly it was pretty nice to completely get away from everything, even if it was for a bit, and even if it was with Robin’s parents.”

“That sounds lovely,” you nodded, unable to help yourself as you kept reaching for more crackers. “It’s good you got to relax for a bit.”

“Work has been far too stressful lately,” Mae nodded. “Aren’t you getting some time off soon as well?”

You rolled your eyes, waiting until you finished chewing your carrot until you spoke. “I guess. It’s not really going to be relaxing for me though.”

She shot you a sympathetic smile. “It’ll be okay – if things get too bad tell me, and I’ll come over with some kind of emergency.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you laughed, not wanting to think about the reason you were going to be taking some time off work.

“Don’t think about that just yet,” Mae told you, a smile lining her lips. “How’s work going otherwise? Oh! Anything new with the painter boy?”

You bit your lips together, watching the bowl of homemade hummus as if it was the most interesting thing you’d ever seen. You knew Mae could read you well, and you knew that as soon as you averted your gaze that she’d be onto something.

“Something did happen?” She repeated the question, voice rising in excitement as you tried to hold back your little smirk.

“He ate me out on the floor of his apartment.”

“I’m sorry, he did what?” Mae sprang up, back straightening out as she turned to fully face you. “Last I heard you weren’t even sure if he was even going to make a move on you.”

“Well…” you trailed off, not knowing what else to say. “He did.”

It had been three days since you last saw Harry. You had your usual two days off, coming back to work just this Saturday morning.

After the little distraction from your painting session, you had pulled your dress back over your knees. And with starry eyes and warm cheeks, you sat up with legs pressed to his and your arms around his neck to pull him in for a sloppy kiss.

He had tugged you closer to him until you were practically sitting on his lap, muttering near nonsense against your mouth. “You’re unreal, you know that?” and “Sound so good saying my name like that, could listen to you for hours.”

Just the mere thought brought butterflies to your stomach; which was something you thought only happened to protagonists in romance novels.

You could still feel his warm breath against your skin and the sweet nothings he had kissed onto your lips.

“Was he good?”

Mae really didn’t need to ask; she could tell by the look on your face. You nodded, confirming her suspicion with a smile bit between your teeth. “Really good.”

“I love that,” she chuckled lightly. “Anything else happen? And wait, when exactly did this happen?”

“Few days ago – I went over to his to do some painting with him. I actually ran into him last weekend when I was out which was when he first kissed me.”

“What? You never told me that.” She mocked a pout, not actually upset with you.

“I haven’t seen you!” You laughed, always favouring to tell her things in person rather than on the phone or through text. 

“I suppose…” she laughed. “Have you seen him since?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I mean it was only three days ago.”

“Do you have plans to see him again?”

Again, you shook your head. “No – I don’t know. I realized I don’t even have his number or anything, I usually just see him at my work.”

“You could always DM him,” Mae nodded, reminding you of the time you both had spent scrolling through his Instagram.

“That’s true,” you bit at your bottom lip. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what he wants or anything.”

You fell quiet for a second, still gnawing at your lip. When you thought about it, you really only ever did see him at your work and other than his art practice and what kind of coffee he liked to drink, you didn’t know that much about him.

“Did anything else happen?”

“No,” you again shook your head. “He said that we didn’t have to do anything more if I didn’t want to – honestly I would’ve returned the favour but things just didn’t really go that way.”

“That’s kind of sweet.”

The wheels in your head were spinning. “Maybe he just wants something physical, I don’t know…”

Mae rolled her eyes. “Don’t jump the gun. By the sound of everything I kind of doubt that, he didn’t even get off.”

“I mean, is that weird? Maybe he does that – like in Sex and the City.”

Mae let out a loud laugh. “Life is not like Sex and the City, stop comparing yourself to that shitty show. Also, what does it have to do with anything?”

“That’s a plot,” you nodded, hating yourself for remembering all the awful plot points from the 90s TV show. “Charlotte dates this guy who’s like, notorious for going down on women and wants nothing else from a relationship.”

Mae raises an eyebrow. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“No,” shaking your head, a small furrow in your brow as you actually couldn’t remember how the episode had ended. “It wasn’t bad – but it wasn’t good. That’s all he did – he wasn’t a good guy or something, I don’t remember. He only was in the one episode.”

Mae laughed.  “Babe you’ve got to stop watching that show.”

“It’s entertaining,” you shrugged, fully knowing Mae also loved to indulge in the guilty pleasure with you.

“What does this have to do with Harry – your Harry?” Mae made the distinction, as if you would have only thought about Harry Goldenblatt, Charlotte’s second husband of the show.

“I don’t remember,” you muttered, bottom lip still between your teeth as you couldn’t for the life of you remember why it was bad that Charlotte dated a guy that only wanted to eat her out.

Snapping yourself out from the mess in your mind, you shook your head. “Anyway, sorry. Things are good, I’m just overthinking.”

Mae was quiet for a second. “Do you like him?”

You paused, already knowing your answer but being slightly afraid of it. “I think I do.”

It was two days later when you saw Harry again. With your usual Monday opening shift, the slow morning had you leaning against the counter flipping through the daily newspaper as you found yourself with not much else to do.

Playing with the paper straw that was in your third coffee of the day, you blindly brought it up to your mouth just as you heard someone walk through the door.

An older man with a red baseball cap shuffled through the propped open door, giving you a two-finger wave as he walked over to the counter.

“Morning,” he chirped, placing a ten-dollar bill on the counter as you went to grab his morning muffin. “Nice day out, isn’t it?”

One pet peeve you had about your job, was the weather talk that every patron seemed to insist on having. They all loved to chat about the bright sun outside while you were stuck working inside. “Beautiful day.”

Grabbing the bill from the counter, your eyes flitted back to the front door as you were counting out the customer’s change. A familiar silhouette of someone else walking through the door had caught your attention, eyes widening a bit when you realized it was Harry who had just come in.

He had his usual canvas bag over his shoulder, light wash blue jeans and a white shirt with some kind of graphic you couldn’t see on it.

Feeling your heart beating just a bit faster in your chest, you turned your attention back to the regular (who’s name you couldn’t remember, Bill or something) with the red cap and handed him his change.

Shooting Harry one more look, forcing the corners of your lips not to open in a wide smile while you moved to prepare a small americano.

As you watched the espresso pour into the mug, you willed your body not to flush at even being in the same room as Harry. You felt like you were thirteen, with a silly crush on a boy you’d only ever spoken to once. Except that this was much more real than a small crush.

You had never really felt this way with anyone before.

“Small americano,” you spoke not too loudly in the near empty café, your voice easily carrying over the sound of Françoise Hardy’s Voilà.

The red capped regular grabbed his coffee, pouring a generous amount of cream in it with a small thank you before he headed to his table near a window, ready for his breakfast with his book.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Harry having placed his things at his usual table and was tapping away on his phone. Cleaning out the portafilter, you wiped off the counter before deciding to head back to your coffee and newspaper.

It was not even a minute later that you felt a presence loom from the other side of the counter.

“Morning,” Harry’s voice was a quiet rasp, clearing his throat as you shot him a glance.

Your stomach fluttered.

“Hi,” you hummed, willing yourself to stop your flush at the memory of the last time you saw him. Hand reaching out for your no longer iced coffee, straw between your lips as you looked up at him again. “What’s your sign?”

Harry’s brow furrowed, a twitch of a smile at his mouth. “What?”

You motioned to the open newspaper in front of you on the counter. “Your sun sign – I’m reading horoscopes.”

“Oh,” he laughed. “I’m an Aquarius. Are you reading all of them?”

You nodded with your own little laugh. “I like to compare them, plus I’m a bit bored. So,” your eyes skimmed over the newsprint. “An Aquarius hm?”

“Is that bad?”

You only hummed, finding it on the page and pausing before reading his daily horoscope to him. “Under today’s amorous skies, sometimes less is more. Resist the urge to come on too strong to a new romantic prospect. A star-gazing stroll through nature could be the perfect way to add a dash or romance to your evening. And who knows? Your nighttime adventure could even bring artistic inspo.”

A few seconds of silence washed over the two of you. Harry had his bottom lip between his teeth, unable to help the nervous twist in his stomach. The horoscope was just a bit too accurate, especially with who was reading it to him.

“That’s – that’s something.” He said after a moment. The bright sun made the little pink blush on his cheeks obvious. He cleared his throat, looking to change the subject. “What’s yours say?”

“Mine isn’t nearly as nice, a bit of a filler horoscope if you ask me.” You sighed, searching for your sign on the page even though you’d just read it not long ago. “Today is all about adventure. Today’s thrill-seeking skies get your engines revving. Expand your horizons, whether you embark on a cross country road trip or rent a cabin in the woods. It’s all about a change in scenery and spiritual balance.”

“Sounds like you need to seek some thrill.” Harry laughed, the words you had read to him about his own horoscope still stuck in his head.

“I guess I do,” you bit back a smile, closing the paper. “Did you only come in for readings today? Or maybe a coffee too?”

“So many reasons I came in today,” he shot you a smile, almost a nervous one.

“Well then,” you hummed, pushing yourself away from the counter to go start preparing a coffee for him. “Let me grab you a drink.”

He followed you, from the other side of the counter, to the espresso machine. After tamping the grounds and waiting for the shot, you placed a hand on your shoulder as you circled your opposite arm, feeling the ever growing knot under your skin. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” you smiled lightly. “It’s just my shoulder – I call it barista shoulder. Not everyone gets it, I think it depends on the way you tamp the espresso.” 

You saw the confusion on his face. 

“Tamping – it’s when you use this,” you reached over to grab the heavy tool used to press down grounds. “I honestly don’t know what it’s called - I think it’s just called a tamper? Anyway, you press down the grounds to form this kind of espresso puck.” 

You mimicked the motion, twisting your body. “You need to use a bit of force so I got into the habit of using my entire side to push it down. Some people press just in the wrist or their arm. My old boss had the same issue as me – after years of the repetitive motion it kind of fucks with your whole side; your arm, shoulder, ribs, everything.”

“Your ribs?” 

You quickly stopped the shot that was still pouring, having nearly forgotten about it. 

“Yeah,” you laughed lightly with a sheepish smile. “I went to see a physio for it, I have two ribs that are a bit dislocated.” 

“What?! You have dislocated ribs?!” Harry looked a bit scared. 

“Partially,” you corrected, as if it made a big difference. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Kind of, yeah,” you nodded. “I try and stretch it out often, I even got acupuncture for it once. It’s more of a dull pain.” 

“Jesus,” he muttered, a small shake to his head. “Dangerous work you do here.” 

You only laughed, scooping out some ice from the machine and placing a few cubs into the glass cup, some espresso splashing onto your hand.

Placing the cup on the counter, you nudged it across in his direction. “For you.” 

“Thank you,” his fingers reached for it, before sliding it a few inches before stopping.

“Oh!” He disappeared for a moment, quickly walking to his table before reappearing in front of you, all in the few seconds the espresso had been pouring for. “Brought these for you.”

He had two mandarin oranges in his hand, holding them out in your direction before placing them on the counter between the two of you.

You were so endeared you wanted to throw them at his head.

“I remembered how you said you usually forget to eat in the morning – actually I don’t even know if you like oranges. You don’t have to – well anyway they’re there for you if you want them.”

“Thank you,” you spoke softly, warming at the small action. You did in fact enjoy oranges; you loved the smell of them as well. “I love mandarin oranges”

“Me too,” Harry grinned, done with his rambling. “Love the colour too – actually I like the colour tangerine even better,” he smirked lightly, apparently not done with his rambling. “But I only had mandarin oranges.”

“Any citrus fruit really is divine,” you giggled, grabbing one in each hand.

Harry saw you disappear behind the espresso machine for a brief second, only the top of your head visible between the mugs, before you turned back towards him while wiping your hands on your jeans.

He held the small glass between his fingers, mouth dropping open to speak but nothing came out when both your attentions turned to see a family waiting for you to take their order.

You only shot him a little smile, grabbing the pen from your back pocket and moved to take their order.

Harry went to go take his seat, pulling out his usual workbook that was slowly but surely filling up with page after page of colourful sketches.

He thought over the words you had read out to him about his horoscope. He never was one to take that in a serious manner, quite frankly not knowing a lot about astrology at all. But he took it as a sign since you specifically were the one reading it out to him.

Finding himself sketching small drawings of stars and the reflection of the sky on the water, unable to help but momentarily flick his eyes up to the front counter every so often, where you would often be found standing.

He watched the way you asked a man about the book he was reading, the way the customer was so excited to share it with you. You had that effect on a lot of patrons, he noticed. You made them feel comfortable and welcomed in the little café.

With his bottom lip between his teeth, he couldn’t help but feel slightly flustered even when you weren’t directly interacting with him.

Continuing with your separate tasks in the café for the next hour or so, as Harry didn’t want to bug you when a small line up never seemed to go away.

Walking up to the front after that line up finally did subside, empty glass in hand that he placed in the dirty dish bin, before he peered around the café as he couldn’t see you.

He finally did find you in the back room, one leg bent and knee resting on the stool. In one hand you had your phone held in front of you, attention drawn towards it. In your other hand you were holding a few orange slices, mindlessly chewing on them.

After watching you for a second longer, he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb any peace you had settled into.

You blinked while you turned your head, a slice of mandarin orange just placed into your mouth as you put your phone down on the table in front of you.

“Oh, hey sorry,” you placed your foot on the ground, orange on the table as you walked over to the doorframe. He could smell the orange on you as you neared him. “Just taking advantage of the lull.”

“No of course, didn’t mean to bug you –”

“– just wanted to ask,” he paused, leaning his hip against the wall next to him. He was only slightly intruding in on the space that was technically just for the workers, watching as you rested you back against the doorframe behind you with a few mandarin orange slices still in hand. “Are you doing anything Wednesday night?”

It was your turn to pause, eyes leaving his for a second as you chewed on your orange slice. “I close – otherwise I don’t think so, why?”

“There’s an opening show, my friend has a whole series in it. It’s at the same gallery that we work at sometimes, it’s just a tiny show but – well I’d love it if you came with me.”

Your eyes fell to his again. He could see a smile starting to grow on your mouth, corner of your lip between teeth. “What time is it at?”

“Starts at eight, but it goes until eleven. You don’t need to be there right at eight.”

You nodded, and although he felt like you were dragging this out a bit on purpose, he couldn’t help but feel a small pit of nerves grow in the pit of his stomach.

“Okay,” you hummed, voice quiet as your eyes darted over to the front counter to check for customers. “I’m usually done around quarter past seven – I can probably head over for eight-thirty? Give or take, depending on where it is.”

He knew he was smiling so wide that his cheeks were dimpling. “So, you can come?”

“I’d love to,” you returned his smile.

“Amazing,” the butterflies in his stomach flew away. “Do you have a pen? I’ll give you the address.”

He watched you pat your back pocket, not finding the red pen that was usually placed there. Taking a second to check the back room, reappearing with a little scrap of paper and a pen.

He scribbled down the information you need, watching you fold up the little piece of paper and place it in your back pocket along with the pen.

“I have to head over a bit earlier, moral support and all, but I can meet you there?” Harry asked.

“Sounds good,” you hummed, excitement growing at the idea of spending more time with Harry outside of the café.

“I have to head out soon,” he spoke, “but I’ll be seeing you on Wednesday, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned, lips together as he bid you a little goodbye. Just as you were debating about if you should hug him, or say anything else, a group came in waiting to be served. As always, you were interrupted by other patrons. “See you Wednesday!” 

The following two days flew by. That Wednesday evening, you were giddy as you closed, rushing through all your duties.

Closing with Saya took no time at all, and soon you were walking with a fast pace in your step to head back home. You knew you actually had plenty of time to get ready, but you were taking your sweet time and wanted the process to be relaxing rather than stressful.

You didn’t really know what one wore to a gallery opening. It was a small show; that was all Harry had really said. It’d probably be casual, so you didn’t want to overdress, but you also didn’t want to look too out of place.

After washing your face, you were throwing clothes around your room as you searched for what to change into. It was then you realized that Harry had only really seen you in clothes you wore to work. It wasn’t that you dressed poorly at work, in fact you liked to think you had quite a nice,  casual style, but you still felt like dressing up just a bit.

You finally settled on a dark navy dress that had orange seams embroidered up the sides and around the hem. It was the kind of dress that would look good on anyone, that fit and clung to every dip and slope of your body.

Grabbing a nearly sheer black blouse to throw over your shoulders, slipping on your trusty white sneakers, hoping that you were walking on the line between casual and formal.

With a little beaded bag over your shoulder with everything you’d need for the night, you checked the time once more before heading out the door.

It didn’t take you as long as you thought it would to make it out the door, and finally you were double checking the address on your phone before being met with the red sign over the gallery and the glass double doors.

Smiling at the man dressed in a bright red blazer who stamped your hand,  you walked through the open doored entrance. You immediately felt a tad out of place, seeing everyone chatting and talking and drinking and laughing – all together.

You let your eyes skim over the space, taking in the gallery. It was fairly large, considering Harry had described it as “just a tiny show”. The room was big and open, and there seemed to be another room that opened up around a curved wall.

Gaze jumping from person to person, you found yourself feeling just the slightest bit out of place. Tentatively walking through the gallery, deciding to simply make your way around and hope to find Harry along the way.

It was when you were looking at a big dark painting, one that had different strokes of grays and browns across a large canvas, that a familiar voice spoke quietly to your left.

“Happy to see you made it.”

Turning around to see Harry, not realizing how close he had come up behind you. You had to take a little step back, the corner of your lips perking up as you saw his mouth already in a wide smile. He was wearing wide black trousers with a fitted simple black shirt, and orange converse sneakers.

“Sorry I’m late,” you spoke softly as he stood close to you.  “Had a bit of an outfit crisis.”

Not moving his feet, he leaned his body closer to yours until the sleeve of his shirt brushed your arm. His shoulder bumping yours, he slid a hand around your waist so that it rested on the small of your back.

With a light pressure against your dress, he drew you in closer so your side was pressed against his. Feeling a puff of air as he exhaled hit the side of your neck, his head lightly dipped down until his lips neared your ear.

“You look stunning,” he murmured. You shivered under his touch, even in his warm embrace. Eyes darting around you, feeling a bit lost just in the moment the both of you had shared. You felt a quick kiss pressed to your temple, before his face retreated from yours.

You could feel heat spread across your chest along with a little flutter in your stomach that somehow made you even warmer. Momentarily not knowing what to say, you faced him with a smile. “Thank you.”

His hand lingered over the fabric of your dress for a moment longer, before it fell to his side along with a little step away from you. Although with your shoulder still against his, you remained close to him as you both turned back to the painting that you had been observing.

“What do you think about this one?” Harry’s voice was low in your ear.

You opened your mouth, not really knowing how to tell him that you didn’t like it one bit. “It’s very… beige.”

“I agree,” he hummed. A touch of his fingertips on your arm pulled your eyes away from the art, arm jumping just the slightest at the contact. With a loose grip of his fingers around your wrist, he was soon tugging you by the arm across the floor of the gallery. “I’ll show you the good stuff,” he said, keeping his voice low.

He pulled you around the curved corner, into the second part of the gallery. You immediately noticed the lights on this side were a bit dimmer, a warmer glow to them rather than a harsher white light.

“All these in here are done by my friend, Yanis.” He hummed, stopping in front of one of the large paintings on the wall with a light drop of your arm from his hand.

“I helped out with a few, but really it's all him.”

“You helped out with some?” You turned to catch a glance at Harry.

He nodded. “Here and there – nothing that big. He just needed a hand.”

“That’s sweet,” you hummed. You liked that, them helping each other out with their paintings. It was just all so uplifting and supportive.

Just as Harry’s mouth opened to speak, his name was called by a deep and unfamiliar voice to you. You both turned, seeing a shorter man with black curly hair in a bun approach the both of you.

“We were just talking about you,” the man spoke towards Harry, his eyes pausing on you for a moment before he turned back to Harry with a raised eyebrow.

Your name left Harry’s lips – introducing you to his friend.

“I’m Yanis. So, you’re the famous barista Harry’s been telling me about?”

You smiled at his words, eyes flicking to where Harry stood next to you and watched the pink tint the tip of his ears. “Famous?”

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Only famous one here is you, Yanis. The show looks like a big hit.”

You didn’t miss how quickly he changed the subject, but you turned back to Yanis. “It really does look incredible. I haven’t seen everything yet but I already like what I see.”

You mentally cringed, still feeling like a bit of an idiot whenever you tired to compliment art. You really needed to learn the right things to say.

Just as you were about to try and say something else, two more people joined Harry’s friend on either side of him.

“There you are!” A tall dark-haired woman spoke towards Harry. She was wearing a red shirt that matched her long skirt, with platform shoes and an array of necklaces. “I was worried you had left.”

“Just showing my friend around,” Harry spoke your name smoothly. You didn’t dwell on the way he had called you his friend, but it also didn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh,” she turned her attention to you, while Yanis and the other man seemed to begin a new conversation. “Sorry, I’m Rory.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled in her direction. You saw her give your appearance a quick once over, and you especially saw the way her full attention turned back to Harry.

“Everything looks so great,” she spoke towards him.

“It’s all this guy.” Harry let his hand fall onto his friend's shoulder, giving it a little pat. “We were just starting to look around actually, so I’ll catch up with you lot in a bit.”

In a quick move, Harry’s hand was brushing against your lower back, and he was guiding you towards the wall on the opposite end. You felt his fingers bunch lightly in the thin fabric of your blouse, side pressing lightly against yours.

“Sorry –” he muttered, leaning a bit closer to you as the both of you stopped in front of a painting across from where you had been previously standing. There was a sea of red and pink mountains, along with a bright blue skin and big yellow sun. “Knew we could get stuck there for a while – wanted you to see everything first.”

You only hummed in response, a small nod in your head as you kept your eyes forward. Although you did find yourself so drawn to the art on the wall, you couldn’t help but let your mind spin and spin around until the words were falling from your mouth.

“Rory,” you murmured, bottom lip between your teeth, “she has a thing for you, no?”

You could hear Harry pause from next to you, “I – yeah. Well, no – we used to date.”

Only nodding, you kept your eyes forward although you knew Harry was burning holes into the side of your face.

“We still kind of run in the same circle – it ended a long time ago I didn’t –”

He stopped rambling when you turned to face him. “It’s okay,” you forced a little laugh to your voice. “I was just wondering.”

Harry fell quiet again, as you turned back to the paintings on the wall in front of you. “I’m really happy you came with me,” he whispered, lips nearing your ear after a moment. “I’m really happy you’re here.” 

You turned your head around, glancing at him over your shoulder. He didn’t move away from you, hand on your back giving your hip a little squeeze before slipping away from your body. He hit your hand with his, letting his hand fall to his side.

The words he spoke were swimming through your head, having you bite your lips together to fight off a wide smile. Just the way he was looking at you made your knees weak.

“Okay,” you whispered, lips clamped together as you turned back around.

You spent the next few hours walking around, looking at everything, chatting with Harry’s friends. You had gotten along well with Yanis, he had talked at length about the series that was being exhibited and you were honestly in awe of everyone’s talent and creativity.

It was about half past ten and you were just heading back from a quick trip to the restroom, when your name being spoken had you looking around to see who it was.

Rory was slightly towering over you as she neared you, speaking your name again to grab your attention. “Haven’t gotten the chance to chat with you, how are you liking the show?”

Trying your best to hide the shock from your face, you sent her a smile as she stopped next to you. “I really like it – haven’t been to too many shows if I’m being honest, but this is for sure one of the best I’ve been too.”

“Yeah, Yanis really did amazing with everything – Harry too.”

You only nodded, not too sure what to respond in the moment. She kept speaking. “How long have the two of you been seeing each other?”

The question took you a bit by surprise, but at the same time didn’t shock you all that much. “Oh, we’re not –”

You cut yourself off, and she took the moment to speak again. “Sorry I don’t mean to put you on the spot, we’re all just a bit nosy about Harry’s life sometimes.”

Nodding, you couldn’t help the way your eyes narrowed slightly on her. “It’s no problem,” you shot her a small smile.

“Do you make art as well?” She changed the subject.

“No,” you caught Harry’s eye from across the floor of the gallery, “God no, I can barely take a decent picture. What about you?”

“Oh, sorry I just kind of assumed! But yes, I have my own practice. Mostly installation, plus some two-dimensional work as well as some performances here and there.”

Again, you wished you fully understood everything that was being discussed. “That’s so cool,” was all you said.

“Thank you,” she smiled down at you. “What do you do for work?”

“I uhm –” feeling somehow small for the words you were about to speak and a small pit of anxiety at the bottom of your stomach. “I work in a café.”

“She manages a café,” Harry’s voice surprised you slightly as it was suddenly heard from next to you. You turned, seeing him take a few more steps towards you and stopped when he was right next to you, facing Rory.

He was surprised to see the two of you speaking in the first place, a maybe the slightest bit worried when he saw the way you were slightly recoiling away from her.

“Oh nice!” She seemed a bit surprised from Harry’s arrival as well. “Sorry,” she paused, her eyes flitting over to somewhere behind you. “I just saw a friend I wanted to chat with before she leaves – it was nice meeting you!”

And then she was off.

You were quiet for a second, as you felt Harry’s hand brush over your middle. You barely registered the movement, bottom lip between your teeth as you felt a bit lost in your head – just the slightest offput from the conversation you had just had.

“Are you enjoying yourself?"

Harry’s voice pulled your attention away from your thoughts, shooting him a quick glance as his words registered. You nodded, a smile pulling at your lips as you saw his eyes never leave yours. “Yeah, I am.”

“Wanna get out of here?”

You fully turned to face him, standing in front of him. He saw your gaze flick between his, curious look in your eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” he paused. Unable to help his eyes from falling down to your mouth, he watched the way the lightly shining lips were curved in a smile. “I just remembered something I read in a horoscope. And I was thinking … fancy a star-gazing stroll?”

It was your turn to pause, fully turning on your feet until you were standing directly in front of him. He could tell that you were trying to keep the smile from growing on your lips, but the gleam in your eyes immediately gave you away.

“I think I read something about that somewhere too,” was all you said, speaking quietly enough for just the two of you. The teasing tone of your voice, paired with the way your eyes seemed to glow more with every passing second sent a warmth straight through Harry’s stomach.

“Is that a yes?”

You let out what could only be called a giggle. “Yeah, it is.” 

Harry didn’t try to hide his giddiness a single bit and sent a short nod towards you before he was again leading you through the gallery. With a quick stop by Yanis to give him a hug and congratulate him, and a wave on your part before he was pulling you out of the gallery.

He was a few steps in front of you, holding the glass door open as you stepped out next to him. This time, he didn’t try and hide the way his eyes fell to eye your outfit, eyelids dropping slightly with a smirk on his lips.

“Christ,” he muttered, joining you by your side. He watched the way you obviously noticed his stare, giving him a small shove with your shoulder. “You really do look stunning.”

“You already said that,” you hummed. 

“Needed to be said again,” he couldn’t help but brush his fingertips over the raised orange embroidery that went up your side. “Also, I don’t know if you noticed sunshine, but we match.”

Sunshine.

You glanced down his outfit from the corner of your eye. The dark hues of both outfits along with a splash of orange looked like you guys had almost planned it. “I did notice, actually.”

“I think that’s quite sexy of us.”

You laughed, following Harry along the sidewalk.

The air outside had cooled down a bit, still warm enough that you were perfectly content in what you were wearing but not so hot that your skin felt sticky.

Harry led the way through the emptying streets, walking so close that it seemed every other step his hand hit yours. He really felt like he had been flirting with the idea of grabbing your hand for what, maybe a week now? He just wanted to grab you, hold you close.

Hell, he had been a lot closer to you than that before.

Walking through a darkened alleyway to take a quick short cut, you shuffled even closer to him. You kept your eyes focused on your surroundings out of habit, even if you were trusting where Harry was bringing you.

It was then that when his hand hit yours, it didn’t move away like it usually did and instead his pinky finger caught your own and soon he was lacing every last one of his fingertips with yours until your palms kissed.

Harry kept his gaze forward, but from the corner of his eye he saw you shoot your newly intertwined hands a quick look. While revelling in the way that your palm felt in his, and in the way that  every finger laced with his seemed to cause a tiny jolt to go  straight  through his body, he nearly missed the way you pulled yourself even closer into him.

By the time the water was invading your sight, after about fifteen minutes or so of walking in peaceful silence, Harry noticed the way you were walking so close to him your head was nearly resting on his shoulder.

He basked in the way you seemed to draw into him as much as he did you, and the way that you urged to be close to him and feel yourself against him just as much. The thought itself sent a new wave of butterflies straight through his stomach, clouding his mind as his pace slowed near the water. 

Clearing his throat, he turned to catch a glance at you. “I remember you telling me how you like to walk along the river, but you didn’t get to do it that often.”

Smiling softly at the memory of the conversation the two of you shared after running into each other at the grocery store; you thought of that as the first time you really felt captivated by Harry.

“Is this kind of what you meant?” He asked.

You glanced around, seeing a wooden boardwalk start not too far off. “Not quite.”

Turning around and tugging him by the hand, following the expanse of the water until your shoes were walking over wooden boards that hovered above the river.

Your pace slowed even more, your hand fell from his grip as you glanced around and took in the sights around you. It was a relatively calm night out, no harsh winds upsetting the murky waters. The lights ended by the street, only a soft hue for the two of you as the boats docked out on the water were barely in sight.

There didn’t seem to be any other people out near you – then realizing that you had no idea what time it was, something that wasn’t often the case and something that you enjoyed a great deal.

The moon was high and bright in the sky, with the few stars that could be seen dusting the sky. It was for sure a star-gazing stroll, just as Harry promised.

“Looks like a painting,” you spoke from next to him, gaze out over the moving surface of the water.

Nearing the railing, the two of you took slow steps along the wooden boards. Harry laughed softly from next to you, the sound carrying in the empty space.

“Have you always been into painting?” You asked, eyes trained on the wood in front of you.

Harry hummed next to you. “I think so, yeah. I guess you could say I was drawn to the arts since I was young, I remember my mum bought me a little painting kit when I was like seven or eight.”

You nodded as he continued to speak. “Started a bit more seriously through school, like getting into techniques and stuff. But I never thought I would ever try and make a career out of it or anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” Harry paused, hand pushing through his hair. “I actually studied marketing for a bit, thought I would go into business or something like that.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped past your lips, surprised by the news. “I’m sorry but I can’t picture you as a business student.”

“Yeah,” his cheeks dimpled. “Neither can I. Left after nearly two years. Then I started taking a few painting courses at a local art store and I’ve been doing just that ever since.”

“Wow,” you breathed out. “And your family they were – I mean you made everything work out for you?”

He nodded again. “Obviously I kept a job for a while, I was actually working at that little art shop for a few years too. My family was okay with it – my mum especially was always supportive. I remember when I told her I wanted to leave school to work on art she said she couldn’t imagine me doing anything else.”

“I love that,” you hummed, biting your lips together. A small part of you wished that you had that kind of unconditional support. But you kept your lips together and pushed the thoughts from your head, not wanting to bring down the mood.

“I send her some of my paintings; take them off the frame and roll them up for her. Her and my sister flew out and came to my first show over here – even though I only had two works in it.”

Mentally giving yourself a pat on the back for having correctly assumed Harry couldn’t have been an only child with the way he acted. You really did love when your hunch about someone was proven right.

“That’s really sweet,” you smiled at him. “You must miss them.”

“I do, yeah.” He hummed, catching your eyes with his for a second. “But I am glad to have moved out here. I felt like it could be temporary – I would love to live in London someday but I’m really happy to be here.”

Only nodding, you felt yourself getting lost in your own thoughts for a brief second before Harry pulled you back out of them. “What about you, you miss home much?”

Shrugging, you didn’t know what to say. “I mean a bit, in the way that anyone gets nostalgic. But,” you took a breath.

“I know this sounds terrible but honestly I don’t. It’s… exhausting to be home. I moved further away for school for a reason.”

You didn’t know what else to say, hoping that Harry would jump in with something else. You shot him a quick look, seeing his eyes intent on yours as he listened and waited for you too keep speaking.

“That’s not terrible,” he spoke quietly, after a few more seconds in silence.

You hummed, not sure what to say. Walking in silence for a few more moments and taking another breath before you chose to speak again. “My parents live hours away from each other now anyway, so I feel like there’s not really a home to go back to, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Harry’s voice was soft.

“You don’t need to apologize,” you smiled, small shrug in your shoulders. “Nothing to be sorry for. I’m happy to have moved away – happy to be here too.”

Harry remained quiet, giving you the chance to go on if you wanted to. Although right now you really didn’t want to – you were having such a good evening and you didn’t want to bring any of that down by discussing your family.

Quietly walking side by side, with only the moon and the stars surrounding the both of you, Harry cleared his throat once more.

“So, what was it again that you like about this place?”

“Just the mood of it,” you shot him a glance. “Something about walking along the wood – I just really like it. And I like the smell too, I know it’s probably diesel and chemicals but it’s just oddly nostalgic for me for no real reason.”

“I see that,” Harry smiled. “So other than walking out here, what other small things make you happy?”

You were confused for a second, Harry further explaining himself after you didn’t answer.

“Just like, anything that could seem insignificant that you enjoy for whatever reason at all.”

“Oh,” you hummed, a small smile tugged at your lips at the question. You didn’t know why it made your heart soar that he was asking you about this – but it just did.

“This is really dumb,” you said after a moment. “But at work, I really like it when an older customer – they’re usually regulars – when they come in with their book and they get a coffee and a little cake or a treat and just sit there for hours.”

Pausing, not sure how to explain how you felt because right now it just sounded like any other interaction with a patron. “It's a happy-sad feeling – I don’t really know why. I love that coming into my café and having a chat with me is part of their routine, but there’s also something that just makes me feel the tiniest bit sad…”

Harry remained silent, letting you explain yourself. “It’s like, sometimes you watch a movie that has a happy ending, but you can’t help but feel the slightest bit melancholic, you know?”

Your eyes darted over to him, seeing him nod. “I know the feeling, yeah.”

Harry had never really thought about that before, never paying too close attention to the other patrons when he frequented your café. “You pay close attention to a lot of regulars, huh? I thought I was special.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as your shoulder bumped his.

“Sorry to burst your bubble,” you teased, feeling his pace slow down, deciding to stop where you were.  You leant up against the railing that  kept you from the water.

“What about you?” You turned to him. “I know you said you didn’t want to share much about the paintings you're working on currently, but what’s something small that you like to pay attention to for your art?”

“I don’t want to bore you with every detail…” he started out, feeling like he had been speaking about his practice the entire time.

You shook your head. “I want to hear about your art – I like it.”

Harry slipped his lips between his teeth, head dipping down for a second as he felt his cheeks blush. “Well,” he started. “My current work is still very much in progress – not really ready for anyone to see or hear about it just yet.”

“But right now – or for the past year or so I’ve been really paying attention to moments between people.”

“Just … small touches or moments of intimacy, you know? Like seeing someone rest their head on someone else’s shoulder, seeing two people hug in a big crowd. Just small moments like that where you know that they’re in their own world.”

You were quiet, even after he was done speaking. Leaning your forearms against the wooden railing, feet kicking at nothing on the ground. You saw exactly what he explained – about the little touches of public, yet private, intimacy.

“I know what you mean,” you finally said, voice quiet as it carried over the space between the two of you. Harry has his back against the railing as he keeps his eyes on you.

After he realized you weren’t going to say anything else, he kept speaking. “It’s nice, you know? Seeing people wrapped up in their … love and adoration for each other like that.”

You hummed, his words swimming through your head. “Guess I never really thought about that –” cutting yourself off, before continuing even quieter, “– guess I haven’t really experienced it like that.”

Another wave of silence washed over you, before Harry turned in his place so that he could face you directly.

The reflection of the moon rippled in the water. “Have you ever been in love?”

His words caught you slightly off guard.

You had been in relationships, sure. You’d had partners tell you that they loved you, and maybe once or twice you returned the sentiment. But you didn’t really know what it meant.

“I –” you paused. “I don’t know.”

“You say that a lot.”

You could just make out Harry’s expression. The lighting was sparse, but every little dip and curve on his features were clear as day, and his eyes held that little smile they often did.

“I know,” the words were too small puffs of air past your lips.

You held your breath in, before continuing. “I’ve always thought that I’d know, but I feel like I’ve never been in it in the way that you described. Not fully. I – I don’t know.”

The way he looked at you made your heart beat just a bit faster in your chest, so loud you were sure he must be able to hear it.

“It’s okay to not know,” he spoke so softly. You didn’t even realize you were leaning in closer to him until your knee bumped his.

“Have you?” You cleared your throat, the noise breaking through the otherwise quiet surrounding. “Have you ever been in love?”

You didn’t know why you were so afraid of his answer.

“I think so, or,” Harry paused, a small furrow in his brow as his eyes were still intent on yours. “I thought so.”

This time, your heart stopped.

“Thought so?” Voice sounding a bit hoarse, you again found yourself afraid of his answer.

There was a small shrug in his shoulders. You couldn’t help but briefly think about Rory, about whether he was ever in love with her, but you shook the thought from your head.

“I guess… I guess I’ve been heartbroken before. I’ve loved, for sure. But I don’t know if I was really in love. If that makes sense.”

Maybe he really was just as confused as you were.

“I guess you don’t know until you’re really in it.” He had his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I guess you don’t,” you repeated.

What Harry wanted to tell you, was that he had never felt the way he did when he was with you.

He also didn’t know how to tell you – he really felt like he didn’t know anything at that moment either.

He was drawn to you from the first moment he had spoken to you, and found himself unable to ever get enough every time he saw you. It had been over a month and a half since he’d first walked into your café, since he’d first met you, and he couldn’t believe the way you made him swoon.

But he didn’t truly realize that, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare you off.

So instead, he reached forward so that his palm could rest under your jaw and stepped a tad closer to you. He saw you visibly leaning in to his touch, your eyelashes hitting the top of your cheeks for a brief moment with a slow blink.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” he whispered, voice low as his knuckles brushed over your jaw.

You nearly sighed at his touch, butterflies in your stomach erupting once again when he spoke so softly. He always seemed to be able to grab such a strong hold on you – both physically and metaphorically – but all while treating you with the gentlest of touches. “Of course.”

“I really,” he paused with his own sigh. Hand on your jaw sliding over your skin, grabbing a light hold at the back of your neck. “I really like spending time with you like this.”

Only able to nod, almost having to look away from his intense gaze. There was nothing else to look at though, nothing else you wanted to look at. 

“Me too.” The words were barely there, just a pass of air from the back of your throat.

You felt his other hand smooth over your spine, fingertips finding your waist as he seemed to be blindly tracing the raised orange embroidery on your dress. Further leaning into his touch, you knew your eyes were darting all around his face as you were unable to focus on just one thing.

His own eyes fell down once more to the curve of your lips, and you felt them fall parted with your tongue wetting them on instinct.

“Can I kiss you?”

Nearly wanting to giggle at the question, as he had done much more than kiss you in the past week, and since the question seemed to be just a little late, but a laugh was the last thing on your mind right then.

All you could do was nod in his grasp, your eyes never leaving his – not for one single second. After a heavy swallow and a raspy little “yes” leaving your mouth, you let your hands fall to his shoulders to embrace him closer.

He pulled you closer in a quick motion, hand on your back holding you tight. Your chest fell against his, head remaining upright with his thumb still under your jaw.

Lips pressing against yours lightly at first, like whispers of a kiss against your mouth. He pecked two, three, four kisses on your lips like that before you edged your jaw forward and let him fully capture your mouth.

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears when he fully pressed his lips against yours, with just enough pressure and desire to make your head spin. A little gasp escaped the back of your throat when he grabbed hold of your bottom lip between his, a soft nip of his teeth against the sensitive skin.

Lips parted together, never able to get enough of the way he felt against you. Harry’s tongue heatedly pushed past your lips mouth gladly opening for him. He grazed into your mouth, arm around you pulling you closer to him. Hot breath mixing together, he pushed your back against the railing behind you just a bit more so that his hips could press with yours.

His hand on your back had migrated, dancing over the curve of your bum before sliding around and giving your hip a sharp squeeze. It never rested in one place, as if he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your body against his.

You returned his fervour, one hand smoothing over his neck until your fingertips were being pushed through his hair. Fist closing as you tugged gently on his hair, eliciting a little groan from Harry before he was licking into you once more.

Minutes passed, you had no idea how long the two of you spent like that under the stars and the moon.

He pulled away, barely, for a breath with heavy eyelids trained on you. His forehead was a millimetre away, loose curls brushing over your skin and tip of his lips brushing yours when he spoke.

“I,” he sighed, voice sounding so close to you as your eyelids just barely opened. “I – you’re unreal.”

His voice rasped slightly, as if he had just been woken up. The way he murmured  quietly against you had your head spinning, thinking about how he would sound moaning your name. 

Just as he was moving in to capture your lips with his one more time, a quiet buzzing was heard from somewhere. It took you a moment to register that it was your phone that was sitting in your purse.

“I think that’s yours,” Harry chuckled quietly, air hitting your lips as he spoke.

“Oh, fuck I’m sorry,” you pulled your arms away from him, fingers fumbling with the zipper of your bag. Pulling your phone out, you saw your brother's name flash across the screen.

You knew you should answer it, but you didn’t want to and he had already interrupted you. Declining the call with a text, telling him you couldn’t talk right now, you placed your phone back into your bag.

“Sorry about that,” you hummed, gazing back up at Harry.

“It’s not a problem,” he grinned down at you, a hand still wrapped around your waist. “It is getting late though, let me get you home, yeah?”

Waking up to a ringing phone wasn’t ideal. Especially early on your day off.

At first you thought it was your alarm, and you tried to snooze it. And then when it started ringing again, you slowly blinked yourself out of sleep to squint at the phone screen.

Realizing it was a call, realizing it was a call from your boss at seven in the morning, you sprang up.

“Hello?”

She spoke your name, seemingly relieved to hear you answering the phone. “I’m so sorry to be calling you, I know it’s your day off.”

“It’s okay,” your voice was groggy. “What’s up?”

“No one’s at the shop right now – no one’s opened.”

You jumped out of bed this time, double checking the clock on your phone to see it five minutes past seven. “What?!”

“I happened to check the cameras this morning, and no one is there. Do you think you could head over there to open?”

You let out a sigh, hearing the desperation in her voice. She was away at the moment, otherwise you knew she would do it herself. It was also lucky that she could check the security cameras from her phone, something you knew she did very rarely.

“It would just be for a bit; I can get a hold of someone else to finish off the rest of the shift.”

“Yeah I can go over,” you were already looking for your pants. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you so much,” she rushed through the phone. “Noah was supposed to open today I think, right? I’ve been trying to get a hold of him but not luck so far.”

After getting off the phone with your boss, you quickly pulled on jeans and a bra, a baggy shirt over the rest of your body before jumping to the washroom.

There had been moments where you had to get ready in a rush before, of course you had, it happened to everyone to sleep past their alarm. But the magic of the opening shift is that even if you were late to the beginning of the shift, it was always possible to get there before the café actually opened.

Today you didn’t have that pleasure, you would likely be arriving after half past seven at the earliest.

Mentally cursing Noah, you tried to the best with your hair you possibly could and roughly rubbed in some moisturizer into your skin before you were running out the door.

After a not so elegant speed walk down the street, you were unlocking the café doors and unfortunately leaving the door propped open for anyone to walk in.

And to your displeasure, people did walk in. You had a grumbling regular who was mad he couldn’t come in bright and early, you had a big family grabbing an early breakfast, you just had too many people asking you for things all while trying to open the café.

It was only after an hour that things settled a bit, that you were able to catch a breather and actually grab yourself a glass of water.

You were sat on the little stool in the back room, keeping your eye on the front counter in case anyone showed up. Updating Grace, your boss and owner of the café, on how everything was fine on your end and that you still hadn’t heard a peep from Noah who was the one supposed to open today.

It was just as you sent him one more text, that your name was heard from a familiar voice. You saw Harry poking his head through the doorway, both of your expressions mirroring the others in your surprise.

“Hey,” you sighed, running a hand over your hair, knowing you looked a bit a mess. Standing from the stool, you walked the short distance to the doorway as you leant up against it with your glass in hand.

“I thought you were off today?” He grinned dimples showing on his cheeks. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, I just – didn’t expect it is all.”

“I am,” you couldn’t help the hint of bitterness in your tone. “No one came in to open this morning – I got called in.”

You saw his eyebrows fall to a small furrow. “Oh fuck. How does that happen, no one opening?”

Only shrugging your shoulders, you took another sip of your water. You couldn’t help but gently shut your eyes, feeling your exhaust slowly overcome you.

“I don’t know. Can’t get a hold of the person who was supposed to open. I mean I’m assuming that they’re just still sleeping or something.”

“That’s shitty, and on your day off too.”

“It’s okay,” you shot him a small smile. “At least I don’t have to work the full shift today, just opening and I should be off soon, someone else is coming in to finish the shift. Did you want to get a coffee?”

“Uhm – if you were taking a little break its okay, I don’t need to –”

You cut him off with a laugh. “Stop that, I’ll get you a coffee.”

“Just to go for today,” he spoke, as you were tamping the espresso grounds. Nodding as you grabbed a paper to go cup, placing it under the portafilter and pressing the button to begin the slow and steady pour of espresso.

“What do you have going on today?” You asked, keeping your eyes on the passing seconds of the espresso pour.

“I’m actually headed over to Yanis’ place – a few of us are working on a collaboration piece together.”

“That’s so cool,” you smiled, sliding the to-go cup over to him as he grabbed a lid from where they were on the counter.

“What about you?” He returned your grin. “Get some sleep after this impromptu morning shift and before another week of work?”

“Oh, I’m actually going to be off for the next week or so,” you spoke absentmindedly. “My brother is coming to stay with me.”

“That’ll be good,” Harry mused from across you, having never heard you speak about your brother.

You only sighed, his words not really registering. “I guess.”

Not wanting to think too much about the week you were going to have to spend with your brother, you cleaned out the portafilter and tried to change the subject. “What are you working on with everyone?”

Harry was quiet for a second, eyes intent on you before he cleared his throat and answered. “It's all Yanis’ idea – he wanted a big collaboration but really, he’s the brains behind everything. We’re just starting today so honestly I’m not really sure what will come of it.”

“That sounds like it’s gonna be good,” you grinned.

“I hope so –” he paused, checking his phone, “sorry I have to head out. But I hope your day gets better and I’ll see you soon!”

You waved as he left, only a few more minutes into you were able to leave the café.

You physically felt your shoulders drop when you saw Aleena walk through the door. She had been scheduled to work today already, just coming in a bit earlier to give you a big helping hand.

“Thank you so much,” was the first thing you said when you saw her. “You are the absolute best. I promise I’ll buy you a drink, or dinner.”

She laughed. “No need for that, really. Should be Noah buying both of us dinner.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, nodding your head. “He really should be.”

She clocked in, and you waited a second before speaking again. “Is it okay if I head out now? I can stay and help if you need me to but –”

She cut you off. “Go, go. I know you have to go get your brother later today, and I’m sure you don’t want to be here right now.”

You could kiss her. “Really, thank you so much.”

You were rushing out of the café after grabbing your bag. You wanted to shower as soon as you got home, hopefully having the time for a little nap before you had to go over to the airport to greet your brother.

Just as you were turning the corner away from the café, a familiar outfit across the street caught your attention. You recognized Harry, nearly amused to see him still so close to the café. Your pace slowed down slightly, you were considering catching his attention or maybe just yelling his name across the street as you didn’t really have time to stop and chat once again.

Although any idea you had fell out of your head when you saw two more people with him, getting a better view of them as you walked along your side of the street. You recognized one of those people to be Yanis, and after a small squint you realized who the other person was.

You kept walking, eyes flitting over to the group across the street a few more times before you turned another corner and away from them. You knew you had no reason to be upset, or not upset, annoyed that Harry was spending time with his ex.

He had mentioned that they both still ran in the same circles, but you didn’t imagine that meant hanging out just on the daily. Or maybe not the daily, in fact you had no idea how often they spent time together. He had never mentioned her to you before, and you tried not to feel overly annoyed because you knew you had no real right to.

This just wasn’t coming out to be a very good day for you.

Trying to push everything about Harry and Rory out of your mind, you rushed the rest of the way home as you were slightly dreading the fact that in a few hours you were going to have to head over and greet your brother at the airport.

The first day with your brother was okay.

You were never that close growing up, for no particular reason. It wasn’t until you grew older that you realized you wished you had a better relationship with him, that you wished you could be like those siblings on TV.

He tormented you, in the way that older brothers usually did, but there was never a good side to your relationship with him. It got to a point where you began to realize that you nearly resented people for how close they were with their siblings.

Ever since your parent’s divorce, the two of you somehow grew closer and further apart. Closer in the sense that now it truly was the two of you against them, but further apart because your lives were in such different places.

He always knew  what he wanted to do in life, and he was currently doing well for himself. He had gotten married already, and was living in a nice apartment that was also close to both your parents, much closer than you were.

He was going to be spending three days with you, his idea. You knew it would be bad to say no, knowing deep down that you needed to maintain a relationship with him. You loved him – he was your brother but you didn’t necessarily want to spend three days with him.

You always came out of any interaction – even a phone call with him – exhausted and anxious about the state your life was in.

Since you were going to be taking some time off anyway, you decided to give yourself an extra two days off just so you can have some time for yourself and didn’t need to jump right back into work.

“How’s Sophie?” You asked your brother about his wife, as you unpacked some groceries you got after meeting him at the airport. They had gotten married nearly two years ago.

“We’re good, she’s good,” he seemed to pause, sitting in your recently deep cleaned kitchen.

“Yeah?” You probed further, noticing his sudden hesitation.

“She’s actually – she’s pregnant.”

You nearly dropped the knife you had just grabbed. “What?”

He nodded. “She’s due next March. We’re really excited.”

“Oh my God –” you muttered, still in the headspace where when you heard when you heard the word ‘pregnant’ it was usually followed by anxiety not joy, even if some of your friends from college had kids of their own as well.

“Congratulations,” you snapped out of it. “That’s – that’s great! Congratulations, I’m sure she’s really happy.”

“Yeah, she is. We both are.”

“That’s great,” you repeated, turning back around and busying yourself with starting to prepare dinner.

He was quiet for a second. “How about you, are you seeing anyone?”

You very rarely shared details of your personal life with your brother, unless specifically asked. And even then, it was all very vague.

“Uhm,” you didn’t know why you were pausing; you knew your answer. The question was simple, the answer was just as simple – but for some reason the reality seemed much more complicated.

But you really didn’t want to talk about that now, especially not with your brother. “No, not really.”

You only heard him hum from behind you, before he spoke again. “Oh. You know I was talking with mom – you know she was younger than you when she had me.”

Christ.

“I know,” you only muttered, not giving him the satisfaction of getting upset over his words.

“All I’m saying,” he could likely sense your annoyance. “Is that I know you’re having fun out here in the city and whatever, but you’re nearly thirty.”

You spun around, unable to hide your anger. “I’m not nearly thirty. I’m in my mid-twenties – and even if I was, so what? There’s no timeline I need to be following.”

“I’m just saying” he put up his hands in defense, as if you had been attacking him unprovoked.

You had to tell yourself to not continue down this path, he wouldn’t budge in what he was saying. “How’s work going?” He said instead.

Again, something else you didn’t feel too keen on discussing with him. “Fine.”

“If you wanted to get your foot into something else, I can probably help you with something at my company.”

Your jaw clenched. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

“Seriously – even in the New York office I could help you out. You’d probably need to intern first –”

“I said it was fine,” you cut him off, feeling worn. “Thank you, but I’m okay with what I’m doing.”

Again, he only put his hands up as if he was doing nothing wrong. You willed yourself to not feel too angry over it, knowing that you were already mentally tired and if you kept speaking with him about this you might start crying – something he’d only use against you.

After a few much needed topic changes, dinner was ready and you were playing a show the both of you used to enjoy when you were in secondary school. You didn’t go to bed very late, making his bed on the couch before you headed off to sleep as well.

Only two more days, you told yourself. It would be fine – it was your brother and everything was going to be fine.

Settling yourself into bed, phone in hand as you tentatively typed in Harry’s username into Instagram. You found it quickly, seeing him having no new posts since the time you and Mae had looked over his page. Although, there was a little circle around his icon showing that he had a story.

Curiosity getting the best of you, knowing full well your own username would show up if he were to check who was looking at his story, you tapped on the icon.

Holding your thumb down on the single picture eyeing over the three accounts that were tagged in the story.

You paused when you read over a username that contained the name ‘Rory’.

So he had been spending the day with her.

You tapped on her username, watching the app take you to her account. It was a public page, with a pretty hefty following. You scrolled through rows of images, tapping on a few here and there to further inspect the posts. Most were about her art, some pictures of herself and her friends here and there but nothing out of the ordinary for a twenty-something woman.

Holy shit. You were about two years deep on her account, seeing pictures from a show she had in Berlin. You couldn’t help feel the slightest bit impressed.

Going over to her tagged photos, you scrolled a bit seeing mostly photos with friends and a few of what you figured were her art works.

The one that caught your eye, though, was a painting that seemed familiar to you for some reason.

Going over to the image, you realized why there was an air of familiarity to it. The picture was from Harry’s Instagram, a painting he had done of her back in early 2018.

His style had seemingly slightly evolved since then, but it was still very much him. The painting was of the side of her face, the setting around her not very defined so all the focus was on her profile. She was looking away, the side of her face painted in hues of gold and yellow that blended into her dark hair.

Green and yellow surrounded her, like she was outside during a sunset – it was a beautiful painting of her. The caption read “inspiration”.

You shrank back into bed.

The post was about two and a half years ago, it was in the past and you shouldn’t be overthinking it. But you felt small in comparison.

She had clearly been his muse, of some kind and the fact that he was still spending time with her just was sitting right with you.

You knew, a huge part of you knew that you shouldn’t be thinking about this. You tried to think back to all the stomach fluttering and weak-kneed kisses he had given you, the way that every touch of his skin on yours felt so right.

You thought back to the other night, the nearly romantic conversation you had shared before he kissed any anxiety or fear out of you.

But still, a smaller but louder part of you was telling you that it didn’t mean as much as you originally thought it did.

The day seemed to be one thing after another, and just as you were about to shut off your phone and try not to cry because you knew it’d make you feel silly, your phone buzzed with a text.

Again, this day was just one thing after another. It was Grace, your boss, asking you to cover Noah’s shift tomorrow. He had taken the weekend off last minute, and his 9-3 tomorrow couldn’t be covered by anyone else.

Typing back an annoyed ‘yes’, this time you couldn’t help but feel truly upset. You were exhausted from work, honestly. You knew you would still have some time off, and Grace was so kind to you, but you were just. Tired. 

#i would love to hear your thoughts and feedback ! <3 im honestly nervous abt this chap oops #thank you for reading ! <3333 #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic

[juggernaut-sika]

There You Are

Prompt: Y/n and Turtle were separated for several years for reasons they couldn't help. They finally find each other and have a heartfelt reunion.

Warning(s): Reader being injured, mutated, and held against her will.

So I've had this idea brewing in my head for a little while and wanted to write it out so thank you @redfoxgaming41 for requesting this one! And holy crap this is the longest I've written in a while.

The story

During the battle with Kraang, you had been injured badly and had to be airlifted to Mayo Clinic - Rochester, Minnesota to receive proper care. It was a long and grueling trip but you were transported safely and immediately taken into a prepped room. Many doctors were on your case, making sure you received the best care available. However, throughout the weeks of taking care of you, they noticed how quick a recovery you were making which astounded them.

The astonishment had been short-lived after a while as the doctors noticed, not only were you healing quickly but your appearance was changing as well. It first started with the texture of your skin becoming rougher and...scaley? Then the pigment of your skin began to turn a/an s/c color. Your back became hardened and formed what the doctors described to be a shell-like appearance. Growing fearful, they contacted someone to examine you.

Your eyes fluttered open as you stirred from your induced coma, your vision slowly clearing from the blurriness that glazed your eyes. Your brows furrowed in confusion. Where were you? The last thing you remember was being moved into a helicopter before you passed out. "She's awake, Ma'am." A feminine voice broke through the silence of the room. Then, through your blurred vision, you could see someone walk up to the bed you were in. You shook your head to shake the blurriness away and see who was standing next to you. "Where am I?" You asked, eyes trailing up as your blurred vision finally cleared.

Standing beside you was a black-haired woman. Her ebony skin glowed in the white lights of the room as she gave you a soft smile. "You're in the recovery room. You had a long trip, Y/n." Her voice was just a soft as her smile and brought a sense of calmness to you until something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. You glance down at your hand, your eyes widen with shock as you lifted them and sat up. "W-w-what-what is-what happened to me?" Your voice was almost frantic as you looked over your body. The heart monitor beeped quickly as you began panting. "Now, calm down Y/n! Just calm down." The woman and her assistant pushed you down into the bed so you wouldn't do anything drastic.

"We're not exactly sure what has happened to you but we're running some blood tests to find out why." She said in hopes of calming you down. Then she cleared her throat and straightened herself. "I apologize, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Dr.Blood," She gestured to herself as she said this, "And this is my assistant, nurse Robin." Dr.Blood then gestured to a woman who looked down at you with a friendly smile. You looked from Robin and back at the doctor. "Doctor.....Blood?" You questioned. Blood chuckled at your quizzical look. "I know, it's an odd last name, but yes." She gave you a sweet smile before taking a deep breath. "You seem lively and healthy enough to move about. Robin could please go get her something to eat and drink?" Dr.Blood requested. "Yes, Ma'am." Giving you one last smile, Robing turned on her heels and left the room, leaving you and Dr.Blood alone.

"I'm aware that I'm in recovery but where am I exactly?" You asked looking away from the doors to Dr.Blood. Blood seemed to swallow hard before taking another deep breath. "Unfortunately, I can't disclose that information to you. When you were examined at the hospital you were immediately transported here in secrecy." She explained. "You mean no one knows where I am?" You gave her a stern look as you sat up. "As far as anyone knows, you are still in Rochester, Minnesota." Her voice was calm as she gave you this information. "You have no right keeping me here! You will let me go!" Jabbing a finger in her direction, you glared at her. "That isn't my call to make, Y/n. I'm sorry, my job is only to make sure you're healthy." Her eyes were apologetic as she gave you a sad look.

Six Years Later

You sat in your bed with your sketchbook, drawing yourself in your mirror before sighing as boredom crawled its way up your body. Leaning into your half-circle of a bed, your finger now tapping the scribbled page. Your eyes glance over at your digital clock with a hint of nervousness in them. It was almost time for another painful examination. Throughout the years you've been living here, you and Dr.Blood had grown close. She did all in her power to make sure you were comfortable not only during your examinations but in your life here. She was one of the nicer people you've met here, other than Robin, someone who didn't treat you like an abomination. And when someone stepped out of line or over a boundary towards you, she was a force to be reckoned with. She wasn't only like this with you, though, she cared for all of the patients in this facility even if they weren't her's to care for.

On days you were going through a depression, Dr.Blood would try to make time to come see you or even send Robin to give you company. Both Robin and Blood felt bad, knowing you most likely would never get out of here and back home to the ones you cared about. The thought affected Robin so much she had to take time off to breathe and recollect. What no one, not even you for that matter, knew that the two of them had a plan. A plan to get you out of the facility and back into society. They knew you couldn't just join the world again. You still had to be kept in secret, but anywhere would be better than rotting away in this facility.

"Knock, knock!" Robin's chirpy voice sang as she walked into your room. "Hey, Robin." A soft smile made its way onto your face while you stood from your bed to follow her. "Things are going to be a little different today so I just need you to not freak out and just follow me." Her voice was professional as it usually always was when she wasn't on break or spending time with you. "Alright." You reply with a raised brow, your smile never dimming. You then left your room, right behind Robin; however, something seemed a little off about her today. Her pace was a lot quicker and she walked a bit more straight. You were still able to keep up with her as you glanced at the room you were always lead to for your examinations.

A sense of anxiety began to fill your chest when Robin led you into an unfamiliar part of the facility. There was no one else to be seen, no patients, no doctors or nurses. Even the smell was different from the chemical smells that lingered in the wing you stayed in. "Hey, Robin...where are we going?" You asked with uncertainty. "Sh." She hushed you quickly. As you two walked in silence a familiar smell entered your nose. It was an all too familiar smell and it was stronger with your heightened senses. The outside world was close. Just then Dr.Blood rounded a corner. She looked to be in a hurry as she took long strides towards the two of you. "The boat is ready and so is the cargo plane. We need to hurry, though, c'mon!" Her voice was frantic but determined. Her hand found its way onto your shell and Robin's back, ushering you two along at a faster pace. "W-what's going on?" Confusion coated your voice while you looked down at her. "I'll explain later. Right now we need to get you onto that boat. I've already bribed the officers and the sailors." She said as you guys walked through heavy plated doors to be met with a loaded dock and the roaring of an ocean as waves crashed against the shoreline.

"C'mon, in here Y/n!" Robin called to you, and the two women moved you into a large cargo crate. "At least tell me where I'm going!" You call out to them. "Here! It's a list of places we are going to make sure you aren't found! Hopefully, it will give you some peace until I can explain later!" Blood hollered over the sudden rain and thunder. She tucked her hair behind her ear as the heavy wind blew. Robin and Blood then closed the doors to the crate and locked it but not after Robin gave you a flashlight so you could see. Silence filled the metal box, the sounds of heavy winds, pouring rain, and roaring thunder all muffed by the cold metal walls.

A sigh escapes your lips when you turn the light on. You back up into a corner and sit down as you looked over the list of states Dr.Blood wrote out in her neat handwriting. Ten states were listed but only one stood out to you, New York. Excitement fluttered in your chest but you knew it was going to be a while before you got there, seeing as it was the last state listed. You knew it was going to be stressful but you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

Eleven Months Later

"Well, today's the day Y/n! You're finally going home!" Dr.Blood said as she patted the steering wheel with her hands. A big smile was plastered on her face as she talked to you over the phone. "I can't believe we did it!" Robin bounced in her seat excitedly and looked at Dr.Blood. A laugh escaped your lip as you sat in the horse trailer. "I'm excited too but I'm not celebrating until we get there." You chuckle, looking down at the phone in your hand. A sigh then escapes your mouth as the thought of how the turtles and April would react when they see you. How would you even go about showing yourself to them anyway? It's been almost seven years, would they even remember you? A pang of sorrow hit you at the thought of them forgetting about you, especially t/n. Over the time you two knew each other you grew feelings for him.

"What's up, Y/n?" Dr.Blood's voice asked through the speaker. "Oh, uh...it's nothing. I'm just worried about how they'd react is all...or if they even remember me." You replied. When you were traveling everywhere, you became comfortable enough to tell Dr.Blood and Robin about the others and that most of the police force knew as well and were on their side. You knew what you were from the moment you woke up at the facility but it still puzzled you. "Six years is a long time but that was such a big event that happened, I don't think they could ever forget you," Robin said, "If anything, I'd imagine them more likely to take you in." She added. Her words gave you a little hope, bringing a soft smile to your lips.

The rest of the car ride was quiet. When you made it to the airport, you were transferred to a cargo box. It was a bit snugger but not uncomfortable. You sat in the dark with your eyes closed, feelings of excitement and nervousness taking turns occupying your mind. Dr.Blood had informed the chief of police, Rebecca Vincent about you and that you were being transferred to New York. Vincent along with other officers were going to meet you all at the airport to make sure everything went smoothly.

It was a little bumpy getting off but you made it safely. "This is her?" Vincent asked as she looked the metal box up and down. "Yes, is everyone ready?" You heard Dr.Blood reply. "Alright, let's get a move on people!" Vincent called out as the door to the crate opened making you gulp as light began to fill the box. "Okay, Y/n, c'mon," Robin said grabbing your hand and leading you to a large police van. You hurriedly jumped inside and took a seat as the doors behind you closed. The medics inside the van checked you out to make sure you were in good health. "Okay, sweetie just look at me." A female said as she checked your eyes.

Thirty Minutes in

"Alright, well you seem to be in good health." The male gave you a small smile and took a seat adjacent to you. "Thanks. How long until we get to our destination?" You ask. Suddenly, a loud thud came from the top of the van causing your head to dart up. "What was that?" You asked. "The heroes of New York." The female medic stated with a side smile. "They got here quick." The guy mumbled glancing up at the ceiling then back at you. "Well, I'm sure Chef Vincent would have informed them about her arrival." The female replied, taking a seat beside you.

One Hour Later

"How much longer?" You huffed, now pacing to get your blood flowing. "Not much longer, about another five minutes. Chef wanted to make sure absolutely no one would see you." Addy, the female medic, replied, drawing another sigh from you. You sat down again, resting your cheek in your palm.

With Dr.Blood

"For the last time, she's being escorted to a secluded spot chef Vincent set out. Y/n is safe, no one knows about her besides the escort team." Dr.Blood repeated for the fifth time tonight after Raph questioned her about your situation again. "And Leo. He just hopped on the van now." Donnie pipped up after reviewing his tracker. "Where they at?" Raph asked walking over to Donnie to look at the tracker. "Dr.Blood, Vincent called. She said we should head out now." Robin informed after she strode into the room. "Alright boys, let's go!" Raph said with a growing smiling.

They all headed out, Robin and Blood took a car, and the guys followed Donnie as they hopped along the buildings in Leo's direction.

With You

You lifted your head, excitement slowly building as the van came to a slow stop. Standing up, you were ready to jump out and finally reunite with your friends. "Hold on there. We gotta wait for the other units to secure the perimeter before we let you out." The male medic, Rick said as he placed a hand on your shoulder. "Why? I'm ready." You argued glancing at him and the metal doors. "We know you are. When we get the orders we'll let you out." Addy said as Rick opened one of the doors and hopped out.

A low rumble came from you as you grew impatient. Your reptilian growl took you by surprise for a moment since you were still getting used to the new sounds you can make. Another hour had passed and the order still hasn't been given. Just as you were about to say something, a voice came over Addy's walkie. It was difficult for you to make out but Addy's smile gave you hope. "You ready?" She asked, her smile growing. "I've been ready!" You reply almost desperately. She walked over to one of the doors and opened it, hopping down before Rick opened the other door.

The cool soft feeling of dirt met your feet as you hopped out of the van. You took a few steps forward spinning a bit as you look around for your friends. "W-where are they?" You asked. You seen officers everywhere but no sign of your friends. "They're around, probably trying to find you. Just stay here and someone will lead them over here." Rick said, crossing his arms and leaning against the van. "Y/n?" You turn quickly hearing April's familiar voice. "April!" Relief and happiness fill you when your gaze lands on your friend. You both embrace each other. "Wow, when they said you changed a lot...they really meant it." She said before pulling away and looking you up and down.

"Y-yeah, I still don't know how it happened." You say, rubbing the back of your neck. "Where are the guys?" You look around again. "I believe they're talking with Vincent at the moment. She's probably filling them in on the situation. Dr.Blood was pretty vague when she explained it." April said, following your gaze. "Casey and Vern?" You look at her. "With the guys." She replied. You sigh again while shifting your weight. "How have you been. I hope nothing...besides this has happened." April asked, gesturing toward your mutant turtle body. "It's a long story." You say in a tired voice.

Just then you caught a glimpse of the brothers. They were still talking with chief Vincent, unaware that you were only a few meters away. "There they are!" You say. Anxiety seemed to creep up your spine as your hands began to tremble. April wrapped her arm around yours in an attempt to calm you down. You shared a smile with her before looking back up.

Leo

I kept myself composed as I listened to chef Vincent speak but on the inside, I just wanted to see her. For the past six years, I wondered if I'd ever see her again, and then yesterday, out of the blue, some doctor calls claiming to have Y/n in her care. I was skeptical at first but now, with all these officers around, it feels more real than ever. "To put it simply, Y/n has been turned into a mutant." Vincent's words snap me out of my thoughts immediately. "Come again?" Donnie asked. I could hear the puzzlement in his voice. My brothers and I all glance at each other before looking back at Vincent. "And the doctor couldn't have told us that when we were at the station?" Raph growled, his voice having a hint of anger.

"Relax Raph, at least she's alive and well bro." Mikey pipped in trying to calm our brother down. "Um, if you don't mind me asking chief, what kind of mutant?" Donnie asked as he adjusted his glasses. "A turtle....like you guys." We all look over to see the short brunette, Robin, from the station. "Where's Dr.Blood." Raph huffed as he shifted his weight. "Unfortunately, Dr.Blood had to go incognito much more early than we hoped. I'll have to do the same when this is all over and done with. The facility Y/n was kept in found our trail just a few minutes ago. It'll take them a while to find out that she's in New York so we have a team creating a fake trail from New York to many other locations."

"A facility? What else did that doctor forget to leave out." Robin gulped at Raph's rising temper. "Raph, that's enough. We'll worry about that later." I said, getting a grunt from him. "Where's Y/n now?" I look to Vincent as I ask. "Follow me. She's over here." Vincent said walking off to her left. We followed behind but it didn't take long before we slowed to a stop upon seeing Y/n. She was talking with April. "Y/n?" I asked. Her attention was pulled towards us as soon as she heard me. "Guys." Her voice was soft and a bit shaky. Even in the dim light, I could see the tears welling up in her eyes. "Y/n!" Mikey cried out excitedly as he ran towards her. He caught her in a bear hug, picking her up and spinning her around.

"I thought I'd never see you guys again!" My heart broke slightly hearing her cry into Mikey's shoulder. Donnie wasted no more time in joining the hug. Raph seemed hesitant at first but followed Donnie's lead as he hugged Y/n and our two little brothers. After a few seconds, I walked over, a smile on my face as I joined the group hug. We stayed like that for a moment before separating. I watched as Y/n wiped the tears from her face before looking over my brothers. Mikey had his signature grin, Donnie was also wiping tears from his eyes and Raph was doing all he could not to cry.

"Sooo, what now?" Mikey asked looking over at me. Before I could answer, we heard Vincent speak up. "Well, the sun will be coming up soon. I suggest you all head back to the sewers." I nod in agreement. "C'mon guys, let's go," I tell them, taking the lead.

Back at the Lair

When we entered I called out to Sensei to let him know we were back. It didn't take him long to emerge. I looked behind me to see Raph helping Y/n down then looked down as Sensai walked past me and towards Y/n. He looked at her for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a firm embrace. "It is nice to finally have you back my dear!" A hint of strain could be heard in his shaky voice after she hugged him. "It's good to be back, Spinter." She replied. Sensai then pulled away with a soft look in his eyes. "You must be exhausted. It would be best if we all got some rest."

After Y/n got settled into her new room I knocked on her open door. She turned her head towards me before giving me a soft smile. "Can I come in?" I ask, returning the smiling. "Yeah." She nodded. As I walked in, I was sure to close the door behind me. I walked over to her. As I did, the feelings deep inside of me were quickly rising like a roaring flame. I couldn't control them any longer. "What is i-" I cut her off, my hands cupping her cheeks as I push my lips to hers. My hands slipped behind her head as she returned the kiss.

"You have no idea how hard it's been. When you didn't come back and we went to Minnesota to look for you but when Donnie could no longer trace you...I thought you were gone. I thought I'd never get to see you again. The thought of me never have gotten to say goodbye almost killed me." I could feel the tears stinging my eyes, making me close them while my brows furrowed. "I felt the same way. So many doctors and nurses told me I would never get to leave. That I was going to be stuck there for the rest of my life." I opened my eyes, her thumbs brushing my tears away. "I will never let that happen to you again...I promise." My voice was firm now.

"I believe you." Her arms wrapped around my neck as she closed her eyes and gently nuzzled her nose to mine before I bumped my forehead to hers.

Raph

I paced back and forth as I grew tired of waiting to see her. Why did they have to put them through all this just to reunite with their friend? It made no sense to him and frankly pissed him off. "To put it simply, she's a mutant." I stopped in my tracks at Vincent's words. I glanced at my brothers sharing the same puzzled look. "Come again?" Donnie asked while messing with his glasses. "And the doctor couldn't have told us that when we were at the station?" I almost bark as a deep rumble emitted from my chest.

"Relax Raph, at least she's alive and well bro." I gave Mikey a glance as he bumped his elbow to mine. "Um, if you don't mind me asking chief, what kind of mutant?" Donnie asked as he adjusted his glasses. "A turtle....like you guys." We all look over to see the short brunette, Robin, from the station. "Where's Dr.Blood." I huffed, shifting my weight. "Unfortunately, Dr.Blood had to go incognito much more early than we hoped. I'll have to do the same when this is all over and done with. The facility Y/n was kept in found our trail just a few minutes ago. It'll take them a while to find out that she's in New York so we have a team creating a fake trail from New York to many other locations."

"A facility? What else did that doctor forget to leave out." I could see Robin tense at my harsh tone but I didn't care, my blood was beginning to boil at the thought of Y/n possibly being experimented on. "Raph, that's enough. We'll worry about that later." Leo said. I let out a grunt and roll my eyes. "Where's Y/n now?" We look to Vincent as Leo asked. "Follow me. She's over here." Vincent said walking off to her left. We followed behind but it didn't take long before we slowed to a stop upon seeing Y/n. She was talking with April. "Y/n?" Leo said. I watch as her attention was pulled towards us as soon as she heard him. "Guys." Her voice was soft and a bit shaky. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes and her lip quiver. "Y/n!" Mikey cried out excitedly as he ran towards her. He caught her in a bear hug, picking her up and spinning her around.

My heart was breaking, seeing her and hearing her voice. "I thought I'd never see you guys again!" She cried into Mikey's shoulder. Donnie followed Mikey joining the hug. I hesitated but the feeling of wanting to comfort her was too much. I allowed my emotions to control my movements and joined my little brothers. Leo eventually joined in too. We stayed like that for a moment before separating. I watched as Y/n wiped the tears from her face.

"Sooo, what now?" Mikey asked looking over at Leo. "Well, the sun will be coming up soon. I suggest you all head back to the sewers." Vincent suggested. "C'mon guys, let's go," Leo said before we all headed for the nearest manhole.

Back at the Lair

I helped Y/n down as Leo called for Sensai. When I looked up toward Leo, Sensai was already walking past him until he stopped in front of Y/n. He looked at her for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a hug. "It is nice to finally have you back my dear!" I could hear the relief and sadness in his voice as he held her. "It's good to be back, Spinter." She replied. Sensai then pulled away with a soft look in his eyes. "You must be exhausted. It would be best if we all got some rest."

I took Y/n to the guest room we prepared and helped her get settled in. As I was about to take my leave something stopped me. A part of me pulling me back to her. I look over my shoulder, seeing her stroke the soft fabric of her blanket while one of her arms hugged herself. I swallowed the lump in my throat and turn towards her. "Y/n?" I question as I walked up to her. She turned around to look at me, her e/c eyes locking with my emerald ones. I took a deep breath before letting out a heavy sigh.

"We....I really missed ya." My hand finds her's as I look down at the floor. "I had no clue on what happened to ya. I knew you was hurt but not having-to-be-airlifted-to-a-different-state hurt. Ya know, I thought after a month you'd come back but when you didn't we went lookin for ya. I thought something bad happened to ya when you weren't there and Donnie couldn't find a single trace of ya." I swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears that stung my eyes. Feeling Y/n's hand on my cheek, I look back up. "I never thought I would get out of that facility and see you guys again. I just wanted to shrink away into nothing so when I realized Robin and Dr.Blood were getting me out I was ecstatic. I was afraid you all would have forgotten about me after almost seven years."

"Well, no one is ever goin to hurt ya again. Not while I'm breathin!" I state, pulling her closer to me. Our foreheads met, "Plus..." I say, inching closer, "I love ya." My voice was just above a whisper. I didn't care if she felt the same way or not. I needed to let her know how I felt. My hands slid up to cup her cheeks, my thumbs gently wiping her tears away. A breathless laugh came from her as she looked up at me. "I love you too, Raph." She choked out, more tears streaming down her face. I then pulled her into me, closing the gap between us until our lips met. I couldn't help the tears that soaked my mask and stained my cheeks. She's all I care about.

Donnie

"Come again?" I asked when chief Vincent said Y/n was a mutant. So many thoughts ran through my mind, everyone else's voice being drowned out. "Um, if you don't mind me asking chief, what kind of mutant?" I asked, adjusting my glasses a bit. "A turtle....like you guys." We all look over to see Robin walking up. "Where's Dr.Blood." I look over at Raph who was becoming huffy. "Unfortunately, Dr.Blood had to go incognito much more early than we hoped. I'll have to do the same when this is all over and done with. The facility Y/n was kept in found our trail just a few minutes ago. It'll take them a while to find out that she's in New York so we have a team creating a fake trail from New York to many other locations."

Again, my mind raced. 'She was kept at a facility? I'll have to ask about that later. If anyone was going to make sure Y/n stays safe, it's me.' I thought to myself. "Raph, that's enough. We'll worry about that later." Leo said, pulling me from my thoughts. "Where's Y/n now?" Leo asked. "Follow me. She's over here." Vincent said walking off to her left. We followed behind but it didn't take long before we slowed to a stop upon seeing Y/n. She and April seemed to be having a conversation until Leo spoke up. "Y/n?" He asked. I watch as her attention was pulled towards us as soon as she heard him. "Guys." Her voice was soft and a bit shaky. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes as she took a breath. "Y/n!" Mikey cried out excitedly as he ran towards her. He caught her in a bear hug, picking her up and spinning her around.

I couldn't contain my excitement either as I wasn't far behind Mikey. We both hugged her tightly as Raph and then Leo joined the hug. Everything seemed to drown out when we separated. All the sounds becoming muffled as my attention focused on her. "C'mon guys, let's go," Leo said. I shook my head as I followed my brothers and Y/n to a nearby manhole where we disappeared into the shadows.

Back at the Lair

Time seemed to fly by, everyone but me was asleep. I got in contact with Robin who was happy to fill me in on everything. I went straight to work, creating a system that would make an endless trail of places Y/n could possibly be. I also took it upon myself to erase whatever digital records the facility had on her which seemed to be most of the information about her. I sighed, feeling relieved that Y/n would be safe. My fingers lightly tapped on the arms of my chair. I turned in my seat to look in the direction of Y/n's room and perked up a bit when I noticed her light still on. I stood and walked over.

"Still awake I see." I lightly smile at her as I walk towards her. "Oh, yeah. I guess I'm just not as tired as I thought I was." She said, her e/c eyes look at me. "Well, rest a sure, darling, you no longer have to worry about the facility finding you. I took the liberty of making sure of that." I inform while I took a seat on the floor next to her. 'Wait.....did I just call her darling?' I mentally slap myself for it but keep cool but the look she gave me says she caught it. "Ehm, s-so uh....It's been a long and interesting night." I say rubbing the back of my neck while my cheeks heat up. "Yeah." She giggled at me. "It has." She added before leaning into me. Instinctively, my arm wraps around her. Her head rested on my shoulder as she sighs.

"Listen, Y/n. I think this is a better time than never to tell you," I sigh and lean forward, my forearms resting on my thighs as I slouch, "I....really like you." I turn my head to the side to look at her. "You do?" She tilted her head before a small smile found its way onto her face. "If it's too much right now the-" "No, it's not because I like you too, Donnie." She cut me off, placing a gentle hand on my bicep. A smile spread across my face before I leaned closer to her. "Then...I hope you don't mind me doing this." I whisper before planting a tender kiss on her lips. I feel her hands wrap around my neck as she returned the gesture of affection.

I found myself pulling her into my lap, the kiss turning more passionate. We separated, looking into each other's eyes. "I won't let anyone harm you ever again. I promise, Y/n."

Mikey

"Relax Raph, at least she's alive and well bro." I nudge trying to keep the mood light. Sure she was kidnapped but at least she's back now. "Um, if you don't mind me asking chief, what kind of mutant?" Donnie asked as he adjusted his glasses. "A turtle....like you guys." We all look over to see that cute nurse, Robin, from the station. "Where's Dr.Blood," Raph said while he shifted from one foot to the other. "Unfortunately, Dr.Blood had to go incognito much more early than we hoped. I'll have to do the same when this is all over and done with. The facility Y/n was kept in found our trail just a few minutes ago. It'll take them a while to find out that she's in New York so we have a team creating a fake trail from New York to many other locations."

"A facility? What else did that doctor forget to leave out." I looked back at Raph who seemed about ready to lose his temper. "Raph, that's enough. We'll worry about that later." Leo said. Raph let out a grunt and rolled his eyes at our older brother. "Where's Y/n now?" We look to Vincent as Leo asked. "Follow me. She's over here." Vincent said walking off to her left. We followed behind but it didn't take long before we slowed to a stop upon seeing Y/n. The excitement when I saw her practically boiled over. "Y/n?" Leo said. I watch as her attention was pulled towards us as soon as she heard him. "Guys." Her voice was soft and a bit shaky. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes and her lip quiver. "Y/n!" I cried out excitedly and ran towards her. I couldn't bear seeing her so emotional. I wrapped my arms around her tightly, picked her up, and spun her around.

"I thought I'd never see you guys again!" She cried as she returned the tight hug. My brothers soon joined the hug. We stayed like that for a moment before separating. I watched as Y/n wiped the tears from her face. "Sooo, what now?" I asked looking over my shoulder at Leo while I held Y/n gently. "Well, the sun will be coming up soon. I suggest you all head back to the sewers." Vincent suggested. I looked at chef Vincent before looking back at Leo. "C'mon guys, let's go," Leo said before we all headed back home.

Back at the Lair

After Raph went to bed after helping Y/n get settled in, I happily strode into in to wish her goodnight. "Hey, Y/n!" I chirp and catch her gaze. When our eyes locked, I suddenly felt sheepish. "U-um, I just want to uh...wish you goodnight. We got a lot of catching up to do tomorrow!" I say, trying to keep up my happy-go-lucky tune, bumping her arm with mine. "Thanks, Mikey but are you okay?" She asked tilting her head at me. "Y-yeah, of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?" I reply. 'Crap she's good.' I think to myself. "Because you aren't usually this nervous." The sound of her giggles filled the room and made my heart flutter. "Is there something both-" I couldn't help it anymore. My arm slipped around her waist as I pulled her into a deep kiss. "I really like you, okay? That's what's bothering me." I admit when we separate.

A smile replaced the shock on her now soft face. "I really like you too, Mikey. I always have." Her silky voice flooded my ears, my nervousness dissipating at her words. I was probably grinning like an idiot but I didn't care. She's all that matters to me at this moment. "Goodnight, Mikey." She said, planting a gentle kiss on my cheek. "Goodnight, Y/n," I reply before leaving her room. I closed her door on my way out and walked over to Raph's and my shared room. "Yes, yes, yes!" I fist pumped and whisper shouted as to not wake Raph up. I then flop onto my bed a dumb smile on my face. "I can't wait for tomorrow."

[themetaphorgirl]

This isn't in the list of prompts, but I was wondering what a good situation would involve "you're okay" with CM?

I just needed some to write something cuddly and nice. I hope you like it!!

----------

Alex flipped through her notes and frowned as a paper airplane sailed over her head. “Derek, give it back!” Penelope shrieked.

“Derek, you heard her, give it back,” she said absently as she compared the notes with her copy of Jane Eyre. It was pouring rain outside, destroying everything they had planned for Saturday, and everyone was bored out of their minds, leaving Penelope to break out every craft supply she owned. Hotch was at an RA meeting and David and James were off campus, so she and Emily had been left to keep an eye on the common room and make sure the younger kids didn’t blow anything up. Not that Emily was much help.

“Gimme the red sharpie,” Emily said. She took the paper airplane and drew along the wings. “It won’t fly right if it doesn’t look good.”

“Oh, wait, let me get my glitter!” 

“No, Penelope, no glitter. You remember what happened last time,” Alex said. She shifted around in the armchair to look at Emily. “You could help keep order, you know?”

Emily was lying on her stomach on the floor, busily coloring. “What do you mean?” she said. “Nothing’s broken yet.”

“Yet,” Alex mumbled under her breath, surveying the chaos. Paper and markers spread across the floor; JJ was reading a book but Derek, Penelope, and Spencer were surrounded by half-folded planes. 

“Here, kid, like this,” Derek said, reaching over to help Spencer.

“No!” Spencer said. “I can do it myself! I know how to do it!”

“I’m just trying to help, pretty boy, calm down.”

“I don’t need help!” Spencer said. The notebook paper caught in Derek’s hand and tore. JJ looked up over the pages of her book. “You ripped it!” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Derek said. “Here, we can make another one.”

Spencer clutched the the rest of the rest of the paper plane in his tight grip. “You ripped it!” he said again, his voice rising. He was pale but his cheeks were getting a little flushed, and his eyes were rimmed in dark circles. “I could have done it by myself!”

Emily pushed herself up to sit crosslegged. “Hey, hey, slow down, champ,” she said. “Don’t get cranky, it’s just a stupid airplane. You can make another one.”

“He shouldn’t have touched it!” 

“Spencer, it’s okay, sweetie,” Penelope soothed. She held up another piece of paper. “See, we can-”

“No!” Spencer yelped.

Alex set her notes aside. She had an idea of what was really bothering the youngest of their group. “Hey, Spencer,” she said. He whipped around to face her, the paper crumpling in his fist. “Can you come help me with this? I could use another pair of eyes.”

“Fine,” he huffed, throwing the paper down on the floor. 

She shifted her books around to make room on the oversized armchair. “Come sit with me,” she said. She caught Emily’s eye, and thankfully, Emily understood.

“Hey, who else wants to go on a coffee run?” she said, getting up off the floor and brushing off her pants. “Let’s go. My treat. Come on, you too, blondie.” JJ set down her book with a sigh, but followed Emily and the other kids out of the room. 

“Get us something too,” Alex called.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, already on it.”

Spencer climbed onto the armchair next to Alex. “What are you working on?” he asked.

She tucked her arm around him and held the book so he could see it. “Jane Eyre,” she said. “I’m analyzing the scene where she meets Mr. Rochester for the first time.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Oh, yeah, that’s important,” he said. “It really shifts the action of the narrative.”

“It does,” she said. “Here, I’ll read some of it, and you tell me what you think, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, shifting around until he was almost sitting on her lap.

She held the book open so he could see it. “The ground was hard, the air was still, my road was lonely,” she read aloud. “I walked fast till I got warm, and then I walked slowly to enjoy and analyse the species of pleasure brooding for me in the hour and situation.”

The older kids had discussed Spencer’s relentless insomnia often- Hotch was at his wit’s end trying to figure out how to get him to actually sleep at night. Spencer survived on naps, usually in strange place at inopportune times. And Spencer fought back when they tried to talk to him about it and insisted he wasn’t a baby, he didn’t need them to tell him what to do.

“On the hill-top above me sat the rising moon; pale yet as a cloud, but brightening momentarily, she looked over Hay, which, half lost in trees, sent up a blue smoke from its few chimneys,” she read, keeping her voice soft and warm. Spencer leaned closer to her and his head dropped to her shoulder. “it was yet a mile distant, but in the absolute hush I could hear plainly its thin murmurs of life.” 

They could always tell when he was exhausted, but they had to make him think that sleeping was his idea or he wouldn’t do it. As of yet, this was the only thing that seemed to work, and she was the only one who could pull it off.

“The din was on the causeway: a horse was coming; the windings of the lane yet hid it, but it approached,” she read. Spencer had crawled into her lap by then, his eyes struggling to stay open, and she rested her chin on the top of his head. “I was just leaving the stile; yet, as the path was narrow, I sat still to let it go by.”

She read until she was sure he was asleep, his breath catching in little snores and warm against her neck. Carefully she turned the page to the part she was actually supposed to be studying. 

After a while he started to shift, mumbling something unintelligible. She set her book down and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re okay,” she said softly. “You’re okay, go back to sleep.”

He mumbled something that almost sounded coherent, but he started to settle back down, burrowing against her. She tried to pick her book back up, but she couldn’t quite wrestle it back, so she gave up and let Spencer sleep.

After a while Hotch peeked into the common room. “Hey,” he whispered. “He asleep?”

“Out like a light,” she whispered back.

Hotch walked over to her, sidestepping the craft explosion on the floor. “I saw everybody else getting coffee, they told me he was about to freak out and you were trying to get him to take a nap,” he said. 

“Yeah, he was being a real brat for a while there, but I’m guessing he didn’t sleep at all last night,” she said.

“Not a bit,” Hotch said grimly. “Here, let me take him.” 

Alex kept her hand under Spencer’s neck as Hotch scooped him up; her arms had started to prickle and fall asleep under his weight. “You need a hand?” she asked.

Thankfully Spencer stayed asleep in Hotch’s arms, his cheek pressing into his shoulder. “No, I’ve got him,” Hotch said. “I’ll be right back.”

She stretched out her arms and went back to her homework. The others came back not long after that, but Penelope and Derek cleaned up art supplies and JJ turned on the common room TV. Emily handed Alex her chai latte.

“Thanks for reading my mind,” Alex said.

“Oh, believe me, it was pretty obvious,” Emily said. “He was either going to spontaneously combust or fall over asleep. And besides, I wanted coffee.” Alex laughed. “Is he doing okay?”

“I think so, but I have a feeling we’ll need to come up with a new trick to get him to sleep,” Alex said. “It’s only a matter of time before he figures out what we’re doing.”

#au: patron saint of lost causes #criminal minds fanfiction #caitlin writes things #thanks for asking!! #spencer reid #alex blake #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #penelope garcia #Anonymous

[humans4vampires]

1977 Homecoming

@teamlesbianbella​ Happy Holidays, my dear! Not-So-Secret-Anymore Santa here, delivering your gift! I do hope it’s everything you were wishing for! I loved writing this for you and I hope it makes you all toasty-warm with Rosalie goodness. Honestly, I would do so much more writing for this... Let me know what you think :) 

Can’t wait to do another @twilight-secret-gift-exchange​.

1977 Homecoming

If my heart could be pounding, it would be. If my body could lift my feet with any more anxious haste, it would. The cold wind broke against my skin, the snowflakes only lingering in the fibers of my clothes. It was well below freezing; I was sure this blizzard would be record breaking. I hadn’t seen this much snow in New York State since I was a child. As we ran, I tried to remember the Christmases I’d spent with my human family. The faces of my mother, father, and brothers were fading from my memory. The pain I always felt when I thought of them flooded through me. It wasn’t a raging agony anymore; it was rather dull and nagging. My life, after all, was not entirely riddled with sadness. Though my human family would never be replaced in my heart, my new family loved me and I, them. New? Well, in the context of eternity, it was in the realm of ‘new.’

We had stopped once on this journey from British Columbia to New York as we crossed paths with a friend in Saskatchewan. It wasn’t my first introduction to Garrett, but Jasper was freshly engrossed with Garrett’s patriotism. And Garrett was more than eager to swap war stories. This was also Garrett’s first time meeting Alice, so our initial stumbling upended to an extended stall. I was bored within the first hour. Battle had never interested me and though I loved my Alice, the curio displays of her gifts to each old friend we encountered had become monotonous. It was no better than enduring the years of Carlisle and Esme fawning over Edward when we were still a small family. While they all talked animatedly around the fireplace of a vacant cabin, I read the paper I had grabbed as we walked through the town. The date was January 23rd, 1977.

Christmas of ’76 had been mostly uneventful. We had spent the holiday with our ‘cousins,’ Tanya, Kate, Irina, and Carmen and Eleazar. Though, of course, we had to leave sooner than I would have liked because of Tanya’s constant advances toward Edward. I laughed to myself then, at the thought of anyone finding Edward to be a good romantic match. How funny, I thought, that Carlisle had once hoped that I would be that perfect pairing for Edward.

Of course Edward was beautiful; we all were. But he was handsome, still. I was sure he had been in his human life, too. He was also a gentleman, refined, and certainly someone who would have made a quality match for me when I was just a human girl. But Edward was much more than those simple things, too. Edward was witty and kind. He was talented and well-educated out of interest, not because he felt obligated to fill his time. There was also a part of him that understood me, and I didn’t chalk it up to the mind-reading. No, Edward valued mortality and the virtues of humanity in the same manner I did, I was sure.

Carlisle couldn’t have known me well enough in my human life to truly know that Edward and I would have so much in common, but it did seem to pan out perfectly. By all accounts, Edward was exactly my counterpart; of all my family and all those we came across in this new life, Edward and I were still the most alike. But if likeness equaled a perfect match, then Edward and I had broken the mold.

We were still running, through the tall red oaks and ash trees coated in ice and snow. I had let myself fall a bit behind, letting my thoughts wander. But I was back in the present now, and searching for my imperfect match. She was ahead of me, bounding through the snow with a childlike enthusiasm, moving like a tornado through the forest. Her long, chaotic brown curls were thick with ice. Her long, imposing body charged through the blizzard, her muscles dancing beneath her pearlescent skin. She was unaware of me, totally enthralled by the thrill of the wind, the blistering cold, and the sleet of ice. No one enjoyed being what we were more than my Eleanor.

I juxtaposed the day I carried her home to Carlisle in my arms, battered and broken, to watching her leap through the snow as she did now, a titan, a fearless woman, and smiled proudly. God, how I feared that she would resent me for how I had damned her. Until I had found her lying helplessly on the forest floor, I had never truly known Carlisle. How I had hated his selfishness, his cowardice in facing death, until I was the selfish one begging for the life of a stranger.

Eleanor thought I had saved her, but truthfully, she saved me. She saw me as an angel when I was nothing more than a monster. The guilt of my selfishness waned with time as I saw how much joy this new life brought her. Eleanor embraced everything with barefaced ardor. She was rough and intense and unrefined. She was easily distracted and entertained by each passing moment. She was unfocused and happy. Eleanor had a burning fervor to make the most of every amusement. She found no guilty pleasures, for every pleasure was unburdened; she was completely free.

I had never found myself attracted to women, though I was sure there would be no other woman, or man, on earth that could capture me the way she had. I had thought myself to be a romantic, but I had never truly known love, it seemed. Eleanor consumed me, slowly and surprisingly. A few years had passed before I had realized the devotion I felt for her was something more. I was relieved when I discovered she felt the same for me. How, in my damnation, was I allowed a miracle?

She suddenly turned toward me and stopped, blocking my path with her body. We collided swiftly and she wrapped her arms around me as she pulled me down into a thick snowbank. Eleanor’s laugh echoed through the trees and drowned in the howling wind.

“What are you doing?” I said into her hair.

“You’re going so slow,” she said. “We might as well take a break.”

“A break,” I huffed. “We’re almost there.”

I was locked in her iron grip, trapped in the snow pile against her as she chuckled. I moved to see her face and her expression became more serious. Eleanor brought a hand up to my forehead, brushing the hair there back behind my ear with her fingertips.

“What are you thinking about?” She was staring intently into my eyes, the question burning there.

I shrugged, “My love for you.”

She smiled sweetly, closing the distance between our lips as she cupped my face in her strong hands. Oh, her hands. They began to wander my body as we kissed more deeply. My hands were locked in her hair as she turned us over, pinning my back in the snow. The feeling of her body pressed against mine sent me into a frenzy. She was removing my clothes before I could catch myself falling into the fray.

“No,” I whined, pulling my lips from hers.

She kissed more fervently down my neck. I fought her hands to secure my shirt.

“Eleanor, we’re almost there,” I said. “Please.”

She groaned, lifting herself off me quickly. She stood in the snow a few feet away as I redressed myself.

“You’re awfully keyed up about this whole farm thing,” Eleanor crossed her arms as she argued. “I don’t see you as a farm girl.”

“I’m not,” I said proudly. “But this is different. You’ll see.”

She was unconvinced, but held a hand out for me to lead the way. I started ahead and she started clapping.

“God, I love to watch you walk away!” she said loudly.

I took off in a sprint and she followed.

I wanted to go home. When I was new and young and our family had to leave Rochester, Carlisle, Esme, Edward and I moved to a little stone house on the outskirts of the small town of Maine, New York. The house had been standing for at least a hundred years at that time, and while we stayed there, Esme spent her time restoring it. By the time we left to go further south for Carlisle, Edward and I to study medicine, the house had become a home. We left a family. For that reason and so many others, the house in Maine was my home. And I’d never shared it with my Eleanor.

I began to slow again as we approached. I wanted to walk at a human pace; enjoy every perfect detail. The house was atop a gentle hill situated in a large clearing. It was surrounded by towering white spruces and red oaks all blanketed with heavy frost. The long house was entirely stone, aside from a few additions from Esme where the Tudor style matched perfectly, as if they had always belonged. The paned windows were thick with ice like everything else, the snow piled high above the few small front steps to the door. Eleanor and I trudged forward, the snow above my waist. As we got closer to the door, I reached for her hand.

“Welcome home,” she said coolly.

I smiled and moved to open the door. Snow ran into the small foyer, dumping onto the stone floor as we quickly hopped in. I kept her hand in mine as I walked her through the rooms, telling the stories that came to mind. When we were back in the front room, she moved to the fireplace to start to build a fire. The others weren’t far behind. They would be joining us soon. When the beech wood was crackling with the roar of the flames, I joined Eleanor at the hearth. The snow and ice began to melt, thawing us both.

“A bath?” Eleanor suggested.

I nodded and hummed, “Mhmm.”

We were both drenched from the blizzard; our clothes had no hope of drying against our frigid skin. Though I couldn’t be uncomfortable, a warm bath sounded nice. Eleanor was gone then and I could hear the sound of the water running far down the long hallway.

My bedroom had the best view; Esme had insisted on it. Eleanor was standing at the far end of the room, bent over the large claw foot tub that sat in front of a set of wide French doors. She had the doors wide open, filling the room with the horizon, the afternoon light, and the faintest sprinkling of snowflakes. They danced through the air like pixies in the wind.

Eleanor turned to me after she had stopped the faucet.

I removed my clothes slowly, revealing myself to her. She did the same for me, removing her clothes as we admired one another. We didn’t speak. My golden hair was dripping, creating pools around my feet. She extended a hand to me and I crossed the room toward her with inhuman speed. I closed the distance between us, stone to stone as we collided. As we kissed, I felt a rush of peace. A gentle hum trilled my body.

We made it to the tub eventually where we sat, legs tangled together, facing each other as we looked out the doors and watched the snowfall. The neighbor that took care of the property kept horses at the stables here. We watched them as they tunneled through the snow that crested their chests, their brown coats casting a stark contrast to the heavy blanket of white.

“I love you,” Eleanor said softly.

I turned to her. “I love you.”

We stayed there until the water had lost its warmth. Eleanor and I dressed and met the others in the living room when they arrived. Once everyone had changed out of their wet clothes, we picked up our regular activities. Eleanor and Jasper left on a hunting trip to the Adirondacks. Edward went to tune the long-forgotten grand piano, then spent the evening composing something new. Esme and Alice made plans to visit the New York City for a shopping trip, chatting by the fireplace. Carlisle and I sat in matching armchairs, discussing my schooling and the new medical techniques Edward and I had been learning. We would be returning to school in a week when the new semester began again. We spoke for hours about medicine. Alice would chime in every now and then to explain what the future of medicine would look like in the next few decades; there were going to be incredible advancements. Edward would pick the images from Alice’s mind and explain the procedures and technology to us. Carlisle and Esme were beaming with pride as Alice and Edward dazzled them with their synchronized talents.

I wasn’t ‘gifted’ the way my siblings were, but I was never one to feel second-best. Though, at times, I wondered if I should. Was vanity clouding my judgment?

I was sure Edward had heard me. He made a polite excuse to leave the house. The others went to join him, leaving me at the fireplace to wait for Eleanor to return. I wasn’t interested in going out in the blizzard again. And I was grateful to Edward for giving me a reprieve – but I heard footfall coming back toward the house.

Carlisle was back quickly, dusting the snow from his hair in the doorway. I sighed and he smiled apologetically. I turned back to the fire.

“You didn’t have to come back to comfort me.”

His voice was soft. “I didn’t,” he agreed. “But I need to apologize.”

He was next to me at the hearth then, a hand on my knee.

I turned to face him. “It’s not fair for him to tell you every fleeting thought that passes through my head.”

“You know he wouldn’t betray your privacy, Rosalie.”

 “I’m not jealous,” I said.

“You’re so much more than beautiful, Rose,” Carlisle spoke gently. “I’m so very proud of you, daughter. Of your strength and grace. Of your resilience.”

I nodded.

“Come now,” Carlisle continued. “Don’t allow another fleeting thought.”

We chuckled lightly.

“Can I convince you to join us?” He stood, holding a hand out to me.

I would never refuse him. I took his hand, and we ran through the snow following the trail of our family.

#teamlesbianbella #humans4vampires #rosalie hale #eleanor cullen #rosalie x eleanor #twilightfanfic #twilight renaissance #twilight resurgance #twilight revival #twilight saga #twilight #twilight fan fiction #twilight fanfiction #carlisle cullen #carlisle x esme #esme cullen #edward cullen #edwardcullen #alice cullen #alice x jasper #garrett twilight #jasper hale #bookofthels

[deniigi]

@pomegranate-belle and @puffins-studio have kindly convinced me to share with you all this little bit.

It’s of Electric Sheep but if Android Matt had a Mike who’s been looking for him since they were separated as youths (right before Matt started to become an android)

Title: Seventeen years

Summary: bounty hunter Mike has been taking jobs in nyc, searching for his lost twin. A chance encounter with a blonde woman who steals his heart helps him find him.

---------------

Seventeen years, ten months, 18 days.

Mike had lived out of the city longer than in it. Rochester was as close as he’d gotten in foster care, but work had dragged him through occasionally, and frankly he was grateful for it.

He’d told himself seventeen years ago that he’d get back.

So here he was, reflecting on life outside the cell of a guy screaming bloody murder.

Dude was a bot-trafficker.

The shit made some serious dough, Mike had seen it himself. But you know what else made some serious dough? Bounty hunting. I.e. Catching the people who got pissed off about other people makin’ some serious dough.

These days, they were all bot-traffickers. Mike could barely remember a time when he was chasing jewel thieves and counterfeiters down alleys anymore. It was all bot-this and bot-that—which, to be fair, was kind of the same thing as a jewel thief.

Property was where the real money was at. And bots? Hoo boy, the best kind could cost a penthouse.

Mike thought it was good for them that they had no idea how much they were worth. He found it kinda sweet if he was honest. This screamin’ bot dude’s collection of androids were all tucked up against each other in the other room, performing ‘maintenance’ on each other like a pile of cats. They were community-minded, bless ‘em. It made Mike smile a little bit.

Of course, so did the paycheck.

Yeah, the paycheck helped, too.

 --

 He got a job for the city. He took it without asking too many questions.

It didn’t matter how much city jobs paid, Mike always went ready for a double-shift there.

The last time he’d seen Matt had been when their social workers had untangled their hands at St. Agnes. Both of them had been wailing like toddlers, like they had been in front of Dad’s casket.

Up until that point, everyone had assured them that they’d be kept together—that no one was going to try to separate them. They were twins. People would understand that you couldn’t just take the one and leave the other. They had an unbreakable and psychic bond, clearly.

But then one day the social worker hadn’t answered Matt’s question when he’d asked about it again, seeking reassurance.

Mike’s stomach had dropped then. And sure enough, the next thing they knew, people were throwing around words like ‘specialty care’ and ‘high-risk’ and ‘better in the long-run.’

Mike had gone to a foster home screaming and fighting in the back of a sedan. Matty stayed behind, allegedly to be placed in some kind of group home with more ‘supportive’ care.

That was seventeen years ago--almost eighteen years ago.

Mike only knew what Matt looked like these days because he shaved every morning in the bathroom mirror. But, he told himself, not for much longer.

He hadn’t become a bounty hunter for the looks. He’d done it for the money and the job experience. Could he track a criminal? Hell yeah. He’d been one. He knew how they thought. More importantly: could he track a brother?

He could, actually. He was a Murdock; he knew how they thought.

 --

 The job in the city was whatever. Took half an hour and a big smile to corner the gal like a rat. She went to the highest bidder; Mike went back out on the prowl.

Chances were that Matt would be drawn to Hell’s Kitchen. And chances were that he would be searching for Mike as Mike was for him. He was an idealist like that. Like Mike.

Awwww. Old habits die hard.

 --

 Hell’s Kitchen had changed over the years, but it still felt like home when Mike put a foot in the boundaries. He knew these stoops and all these torn posters. He knew that skyline and that raggedy flag pole.

The names on the businesses changed—some got new lights, some got new windows, but all in all, the feel was still there.

 --

 He set out to find Matt in the old, old haunts. Stopped by the church. The old kids’ home. They still hadn’t seen him, no, Mike. Sorry, my son.

He took a waltz down memory lane by the docks.

He found the greasiest looking coffee shop he could and sat at a sticky table, people-watching through the huge half-wall windows for about an hour.

Nothin’ yet.

His coffee was cold when he left.

  --

He ran into a girl at a bar that night under green and red neon lights. They danced close. She told him he reminded her of someone she knew, and Mike thought that that was just a lovely coincidence, sugar, wasn’t it?

He invited her to his hotel room. She accepted.

He woke up to waves of amber grain strewn across this pillow, sticking to his lips, and the smell of something powdery and floral in the endless line of this lady’s neck.

God, she was like a swan. Mike ought to buy her breakfast.

He did because he was a gentleman. He left to go grab a sandwich from the bodega outside but came back to find the bed and the room empty. There was a little note on the pad next to the bed that said ‘thanks, handsome’ with a smile face next to it and a number.

He eased himself down on to the bed and stuffed a sandwich in his mouth to grin around.

  --

Her name was Karen.

It wasn’t their last night. Mike saw her when she was in the city and they had a well-worn routine after a few months.

Every time, a new bar, a new club, a new drink. But the same dance and then the same chase and collapse.

She told him nothing about herself, and he loved that about her. She passed fingers through his hair. She trailed them across his jaw, bristly stubble or no.

And then the next morning, she was gone, and Mike was sighin’ like a blue bird in spring.

 --

 Valentine’s Day found Mike in the city. He didn’t delude himself with thinking that Karen was available—he wasn’t that full of it.

But he did think that even a lady as lovely and possibly taken as Karen deserved a bouquet of flowers from a ‘friend.’ So he took a meander down to a wholesaler and chatted up one of the makers until a collection of spring tulips graced by baby’s breath found their way into his hands.

Karen, he suspected, worked somewhere in an office. Her ever-present, practical pencil skirt said so, and the way that she frequented Josie’s told him that she lived in the area around 9th and 52nd.

It wasn’t hard to snoop. It wasn’t hard to trawl through the local business websites in that area, peeking at staff pages until low and behold, the golden grail herself appeared smiling on try number 7.

He smiled back at her photo and went back to get the name of the place and the address only to pause in his tracks.

Nelson & Murdock.

Karen worked at a law firm called Nelson & Murdock.

Huh.

Well. Good for that Murdock. Mike hoped he was out when he brought these flowers in.

 --

 The firm was dinky and crammed up two flights of stairs across from an orthodontist’s office. Mike pitied Karen for having to spend her days watching droves of traumatized middle schoolers leave that place with wires crammed in their faces. The flowers even looked like they were wilting in the hallway.

Mike gave them a pep talk on his way to the door.

He knocked but no one answered, so he turned the knob and a handful of people where sat looking nervous in the waiting area. The front desk was empty. Abandoned.

Oh, Karen.

Ever at work like you are at play.

Mike made his way over the desk and caught sight of a familiar fluffy little ball on a keychain at the edge of the desk.

It was adorable.

He found a scrap of paper by the phone, reached over and snagged it and a pen to leave a little love note when he felt a tug at his elbow.

He forced down the irritation and turned back with a smile. An older lady with huge bifocals squinted at him.

“Mr. Murdock,” she said. “I’ve got to go move my car. Don’t you give up my place, you hear?”

Mike forced himself to hold his smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy, madam.”

Murdock must have looked smooth as hell for Mike to have been mistaken for him.

The lady squinted left, right, and center, then scoffed and pinched his arm.

“Cheeky boy,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

She left.

Mike’s brain short-circuited for another few seconds before declaring that whole situation unresolvable, bizarre, and emphatically not his problem. Sorry Nana. Go to the back of the line like everyone else.

He went back to writing his card.

“Matt?”

He didn’t mean to look up. It was a reflex, man. It came with the twin-territory, and this time it brought a moment of panic as Karen’s brow dropped stormily and her fists found her hips.

“Where the hell have you been? We’ve been calling you all morning?” she demanded.

Mike’s palms started sweating.

Did Karen? Not? Recognize him?

Had he misread this whole love affair? Or maybe it was the daylight that was confusing her?

It had to be the daylight, right?

“Matt,” Karen said, irate as could be in that pretty blue and white top. “Don’t just stand there. Say something.”

Ahahahahahaha.

Too close. Too much.

“MATT.”

Out we go, back to the hovel from which we came.

  ---

He breathed out hard in the street below and turned back to look up at the window of Nelson & Murdock. It was flung open and he didn’t give Karen the opportunity to get her nose out of it. He hurried off into the crowd, ducking and squirming until he was sure that he was good and gone from sight.

Then he found an alley to clutch at his heart in.

It had been years since someone had called him Matt. Sometimes he took the name on as a false one, when working for especially shitty shit-heads. But Karen??

Mike was positive he’d introduced himself as Mike. ‘Michael’ but more like Costello than Abbott, he’d said. Karen had laughed.

What the fuck, man? What the fuck?

He looked at the flowers in his hand.

A waste.

Hhhng. Alright, well. There was for sure to be someone needing cheering up at a bar somewhere. Might as well spare them for the Singles Awareness Gigs sure to be happening soon.

  ---

He ended up at Josie’s because he always ended up at Josie’s, but this time with barely anyone in the place at 3pm on Valentine’s Day, she actually noticed him and gave him an eyebrow. He chose to ignore it in order to wallow in self-pity and raised his glass to his lips.

It didn’t make it.

He stared in stunned silence at the hand suddenly covering his glass.

“I don’t think that’s a wise idea, pal,” Josie said.

Mike gaped at her in shock.

“I? Paid for this?” he said.

There was a long moment of awkward silence.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry,” Josie said. “My bad. I thought you were someone else.”

Someone else?

Someone—

WAIT.

“Someone else? Does someone who looks like me come here?” Mike blurted out with zero grace before he could stop himself. “Does he—do you know his name? Is he—does he—”

Josie frowned hard at him.

“You’re not Matt,” she said after a long moment. “I always thought you were Matt.”

Matt!!

Matty!! MATT. You little shit. You perfect, darling, little shit. Out here, comin’ to Josie’s like a chump—possible alcoholic Matt!

Okay, wait, roll that one back—one problem at a time.

“He’s my brother. I’ve been looking for him for eighteen years, we were separated in foster care—do you know where he lives?” Mike asked with no filter to be seen for miles.

Was it professional of him?

No.

But were hugs at airports ever professional? Exactly. Get off his case.

He beamed wide at Josie, but her face did not reciprocate the gesture. Actually, it seemed to be doing the opposite and that made this little squirming feeling start up in Mike’s gut.

“Christ,” Josie said. “I’m so sorry, man.”

Wh-what?

“You’re gonna need a double.”

What did that mean?

“Take this.”

No. No, what did that mean?

“Take the shot, kid. Trust me. You’re gonna need it.”

  ---

No.

Just.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Josie rubbed her fingernails against her cheek and sighed.

“His owner brings him along,” she said. “Lets him work at their law firm with him—he’s made the papers, sure, but you know. It’s all kind of colored by the fact that he can’t really do shit without permission.”

Mike rolled the tumbler in his hand around.

Nelson, eh? So called ‘owner’ of the android called Matthew Michael Murdock.

Ahahahaha.

Get ready to die, motherfucker.

“But he tries to drink—Matt does,” Mike felt himself say.

Josie didn’t want to look at him.

“Sometimes, it’s like he forgets he’s a droid,” she said. “Usually, he’s got someone with him to keep him out of trouble.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Josie said. “It’s a load of bull.”

FUCK.

He set the tumbler down.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked.

“It’s on the house,” Josie said. “Best of luck.”

Yeah.

Thanks.

  ---

Matty was—

Matty was—

Mike made it back to his hotel room before sinking to his knees by the bed. God had never heeded his prayers before, but things were different now.

Matty couldn’t pray for the both of them anymore. He was—He was--

Mike had to—

God, please.

Please. Give him back. What once was lost had to be found.

What once was lost, God.

Mike had lost him.

He’d lost him forever.

Give him back.

 ---

 He typed Matt’s name into the search engine on his phone and made it through one whole article before he was kneeling before a much harder, much more porcelain altar.

He tried again in the bathroom this time, sat on the floor with his back against the tub.

The bot that someone had made out of Matty looked so sweet. Like Mike, but softer in the cheeks. Younger. Forever 22 or something close to it.

He was still blind, despite all his other modifications and he was a little famous in the field of robotics. Not that the bot appeared to care. The articles claimed that the bot had recovered and retained memories prior to what they kept calling his ‘transition.’

What they meant was when he’d been transformed into a human weapon. An inhuman weapon.

Matty, I’m so sorry.

 ---

 There was only so much self-pity a man could wallow in before his ass started to fall asleep. But more than that, Mike was a Murdock. The tingling in his limbs was lost to the ever-increasing roar of fire in his ears.

That bastard. That bastard lawyer.

Taking Matt after everything he’d been through and turning him into some prop to be used as a showpiece in a grand legal theatre.

Fuck no. Fuck that.

Mike wasn’t fucking this up twice.

 ---

 Nelson & Murdock was closed by the time Mike once again found himself outside its doors. He stared at the sign’s heavy black letters and gave in to the devil raging, hot, underneath the skin of his chest.

He left the shattered doorglass on the ground as he made his way to the opposite stairwell.

 ---

 Karen.

  ---

She lived nearby 9th and 52nd. She was probably going home to her handsome hubby, who’d shower her in chocolate and wine and flowers. But on the way, she’d make a stop. She was a working gal. She wouldn’t have had time to pick up a gift in return before her shift started.

Mike found her at Walgreens, talking on the phone to someone while she petted every teddy bear on the rack in front of her.

He didn’t feel sorry.

She didn’t scream when his hand found her face. He didn’t give her the chance.

  ---

He ditched the hat in the back storeroom of Walgreens and took Karen right through to the loading dock. She thrashed hard.

Mike could barely feel the movement. He was on the lookout for eyes.

An elbow found his ribs and a foot his toes before he got them far enough from view that he could let her go to readjust his grip, and when he did, he got her against a wall, panting.

This lady was tough. But in a flash, she mouth dropped open and her wrists went limp in his grip.

“Mike?” she asked after a second. “Is that you? What are you doing here? Why are you—”

“Where. Is. My brother?” Mike cut her off.

Karen recoiled until her head hit the bricks behind her.

“Your—”

“My brother Matthew,” Mike snapped.

The rush of traffic settled into the silence.

“Oh my god,” Karen whispered. “He’s your brother?”

“Yes. He is, as a matter of fact, and whatever you think you’re doing to him, I will do to you and that fucking lawyer ten times worse,” Mike said. “So you’re going to help me or I’m going to—”

“I knew I knew you.”

He felt himself go stiff.

“Matt talks like you,” Karen said softly. “Just like you.”

Wh—he did?

Karen’s fingers brushed the tops of Mike’s hands. They were cold.

“Mike,” she whispered, sounding for all the world like she was on the verge of tears, “He’s going to be so happy to see you.”

Wh—she’d—she’d take him to Matt?

“Of course,” Karen said. “He’s one of my best friends.”

They were friends? How were they friends? Was this a sick joke?

“No. It’s not. I met him years ago it’s just—I didn’t realize you were—okay, there’s just one problem,” Karen said.

 ---

 Uh?

“Sensory input! Greater than! Processing—PROCESSING—processing—”

“Matty,” Franklin Nelson said with both of his hands out in front of him. “I see that we are very excited.”

“SENSORY INPUT—”

“And I love your enthusiasm, and I know you love your enthusiasm,” Nelson continued. “But if you don’t settle down the tiniest fraction of an inch, you’re going to blow a fuse and—”

“SEN—sen-S-S-SEN—”

Uh?

“This is excited,” Karen explained while Nelson wrestled Matt into sitting for the second time since Mike had arrived at the door.

This was excited?

“He’s normally much more in tune with himself,” Karen said. “But I think you’ve jumpstarted some shit that even his additional processing power isn’t enough for.”

Additional what now?

“It’s a long story,” Karen said over the saddest sound that Mike had ever heard.

They both looked over to where Nelson had successfully gotten Matt back to sitting and was now coaching him through whatever the bot-equivalent of breathing exercises were.

“How long?” Mike asked.

Karen’s blue eyes pitied him.

 ---

 Okay, okay, okay. So. Nelson? Not a threat. Definitely a boon.

Matty?

Hng.

Heavy.

“I’ve literally never seen him this excited,” Nelson said. “And I’ve known him for seven years.”

No shit?

“No shit, we met at Columbia,” Nelson sighed. “I’m sorry about this.”

It was fine. Mike deserved this. Probably.

Jesus, what the fuck had they replaced Matt’s muscle’s with? How was he this warm and this heavy and not human all at the same time.

He’d seemed to have decided that Mike needed a full-body hug and while the first ten seconds had been cry-worthy, the last minute or so was getting a little suffocating.

“Matt, let him go,” Nelson pleaded. “He can’t breathe, bud. He’s gotta breathe, he’s not like you—”

“Subject: Mike. Michael Murdock,” Matt said brightly, scrambling off Mike out of no-fucking-where and getting way too far into Nelson’s face.

“Mike, yeah, you said,” Nelson said.

“Mike. Born October 21—”

“I get it. He’s your twin.”

“—at Metropolitan General Hospital at 11:32pm—”

“Matt,  you’re info-dumping friend, we don’t need this. We believe you. Don’t give me his social. Don’t—”

“—Social Security number 6—”

“MATT. End request. End search term. Exit page.”

Uh?

“He did this with the DA last week when he got too riled up,” Karen said sympathetically. “We have no clue where he finds it or better yet, where he even stores it.”

“—my brother, FOGGY.”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ see it, man. It’s before mine very own eyes. Y’all are identical. It’s weird.”

“I missed him.”

“Tell that to him then. Stop touching me, ew. No. Go douse him with your weird fuckin’ eye fluid—atta boy, good job—NO. NO CLIMBING.”

Mike…was not prepared for the care and keeping of Bot-Matt. He had to admit that now. All those plans of snatching Matt out of the hands of these evil, evil people were breaking up into little fragments of puzzle pieces and he’d never felt more like shit because god.

He was supposed to look after his brother, wasn’t he?

Wasn’t he?

“I’m so sorry about this,” Franklin Nelson said with Matt leaning almost completely out of his grip and making that horrible sad noise again. “But I think I’m gonna need to cool him down a bit.”

 ---

 Mike couldn’t stop rubbing at his face.

Matt was sprawled out across Nelson’s bed like he was sleeping in the sunlight. The wires plugged into the back of his neck slipped off the edge of the bed and led all the way to a laptop that was just about sweating with how hard it was working.

From the side, it looked like he was human. Absolutely, unequivocally human.

Younger than Mike now, though. Permanently halted at 24 years old. No wonder Karen hadn’t recognized Mike early on. Matty’s jaw was still slim where Mike’s had hardened square like Dad’s. The only facial hair he had was in his eyebrows and eyelashes—there was no reason to add stubble to a bot. It was just more maintenance. Just another aesthetic modification.

“I’m sorry, Mike.”

Mike turned to Nelson.

He didn’t look or talk like a single one of the bot traffickers than Mike had dragged in from the cold—and he’d done the full range of them, from the cackling madhatters to the cooing, babytalkers to the silent so-called geniuses. Nelson exhibited only exasperation.

The story that Karen told about his and her early encounters with Matt made it seem like Nelson honestly considered Matt to be human, like him. Like all of them.

“You helped him,” Mike said quietly.

“If I’d have known that he had you, then I would have helped him find you sooner,” Nelson said. “But I thought he was on his own. He never mentioned anyone else. I should have asked.”

No. No, that was—That was okay, somehow.

“We got separated a lifetime ago,” Mike said. “People thought that I’d be easier to adopt. And clearly he had other things going on.”

Nelson winced.

“That’s shit,” he said.

“And wrong,” Mike sighed. “I don’t even know what to do now. I can’t take care of him like this. I don’t know the first thing about droid maintenance or computers.”

Nelson considered him.

“Well, the good news is that you don’t have to—take care of him, I mean,” he said. “Matt takes care of himself. He’s actually really good at it when he’s not blowin’ his top about some damn thing. You’ll see when he wakes up. And on top of that, he’s already got a mechanic, so when something goes wrong that he can’t fix, we take him to Parker and he does the heavy lifting there.”

Mike swallowed.

“You guys really have it worked out,” he realized.

Nelson sighed.

“Like I said. I’ve known him for seven years. We’ve lived together ever since.”

Woah. Wait. What now?

Nelson turned exhausted eyes onto him.

“I co-signed for his loft, but he just comes and spends all his time here when he’s not out smashing faces. Claims my bed. Steals all the sun spots. Makes me only shit coffee in return.”

He—Matt—Matt had his own apartment? He could do that?

“Sure? Why not? He owns half the firm, too,” Nelson said. “I mean, they wouldn’t let me put it in his name, technically. So it’s through a wildly complicated, uh—let’s call it a ‘thing’ for simplicity’s sake. But yeah. If anything happens to me, full ownership goes to him. But as far as we’re concerned, it’s half and half. The only thing Matt can’t do is practice law on his own, so we have to double-team pretty much every case.”

Mike needed to sit down.

“Oh, for sure. Just not there. I’d recommend out of range, here. Sit here,” Nelson said.

 ---

 Matt woke up when Karen snuck around the bed to remove the wires from his neck. He scrambled up and fell right over the side of the bed onto Karen’s feet.

She swore. He groaned. Nelson pointedly did not come back into the room.

This time, though, when Matt got back up, Karen pulled him in the direction of Mike and took his wrist. She held out a hand for Mike.

Mike’s heart fluttered.

He gave it to her and Karen put his hand directly in Matt’s palm.

There was silence.

“Mikey,” Matt said after a long moment.

Mike’s eyes started burning.

“You came for me,” Matt said.

Mike couldn’t make his throat work. It took two goes to find his voice.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “I sure did.”

“You ain’t singin’, though,” Matt pointed out. “Why aren’t you singin’?”

Because he was cryin’, man. God, give a guy a break.

“Matty, what did they do to you?” he asked.

Matt made a strange sound as he mulled over the question. A kind of whirring noise.

“Made me into a droid, dumbass,” he said.

Mike laughed before he could stop himself.

“Can I have a non-lethal hug?” he asked.

Matt whirred.

“No promises,” he said.

 ----

#mike murdock #matt murdock #electric sheep #don't mind me just making myself sad #blame Maddie for this one #fic #ficlet

[gifted-burnout-archive]

Jim’s Best Friend

Part Fourteen - There’s a Hole in the Wall

Word Count: 2714

Author’s Note: So I wrote all this, and then remembered that during this episode Dwight was working at Staples... So, variation on the story! Dwight never quit. Ok, with that settled, enjoy! (And did I make all you readers a lil gay? Yeah, I fucking did. Enjoy it. In this reality, you like girls and Jim Halpert and good for you!)

WARNING: angry Andy, discussion of sexual orientation (?), kinda cheating...

April, 2007.

The last few weeks had been crazy, and you hadn't really had a second to catch your breath. Between moving into a new flat and adjusting to your new workload, you hadn't had much of a chance to do anything with Pam or Jim. In fact, Jim was sort of, not talking to you...

You came in to work one sunny April morning to find Pam putting up a banner behind her desk, and you helped her off the counter once she was done. She smiled, and both of you examined the sign:

Welcome Back Oscar

"That's today?" You asked, and Pam nodded, giving you a quick hug hello.

"Yeah, did Toby not send you the email?" Pam asked, and you shook your head. "Oh! Maybe he hasn't added you back to the list..."

"I'll chat with him today about it." You assured her, and you both stood quiet for a moment. "Do you want to come over tonight? I just... We haven't hung out in ages."

"Oh my God yes, please. I didn't want to ask until you were properly settled in." Pam breathed out, and you grinned, walking over to your desk in a much better mood. Jim and Karen arrived in the office, by Dwight's stopwatch, 6 minutes and 13 seconds late. You smiled at Jim as he sat down, and while he smiled back, no words were exchanged.

Your phone rang, and after checking the area code number, you cleared your throat and answered.

"Esta es la oficina corresponsal extranjero de Dunder Mifflin, Y/N hablando. ¿Cómo puedo ayudarlo esta noche?" You said quickly into the phone, to be met by a loud exhale from Dwight across the table. You looked up from the phone, raising an eyebrow at him, almost daring him to try it again. "Si lo veo..." You glanced at the clock, listening to the Spaniard on the phone ramble about an issue with an online order, all while Dwight started to, very loudly, sharpen his collection of pencils. "Un momento, por favor." You said quickly, holding the phone to your chest and looking at Dwight.

"What?"

"Keep it up, Schrute, and I'll hurt you." You warned, only to receive a laugh in response. You looked around the office quickly, a surveillance check. "You don't speak Spanish, do you Dwight?" You asked, and Dwight shook his head. "Exactly, that’s the whole point... Stop what you're doing, meet me in the breakroom in ten minutes... Make sure we aren't watched." You whispered loud enough to peek Jim's interest, before returning to your call.

"Perfecto, lo trasladré de immediato. Gracias por su patiencia." You finished the call, transferring the client to the Rochester branch after five minutes of trying to talk him through the terrible set up of Dunder Mifflin's online presence, and you looked up from your phone to see Dwight had disappeared.

"He's scouting the breakroom..." Jim said quietly, and you glanced over at him, a goofy smile on his face as he typed away at his computer.

"So, you're talking to me now?" You responded, keeping a low voice, pulling up your email to get in touch with Rochester, and IT. The shitty website would, sooner or later, lose the company big clients.

"Was I not talking to you?" Jim feigned innocence, but you rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to the monitor, prompting him to sigh. "Okay, I kind of was, but I'm sorry and I would really like to help with the whole Dwight thing..." He pleaded, clearly bored out of his mind. Jim's pranking habits had certainly dimished a little, and by the desperation in his eyes, he was in withdrawal.

"Deep cover... I'm actually Agent Robin DeMarco with the CIA, here to monitor Dunder Mifflin for a spy implanted by the Russians... After he was compromised at Christmas, Pam told me all about that one, good job by the way, I was sent in to replace the returning Y/N Y/L/N, who is currently in Barcelona on holiday. Keep him safe, prep him for a new mission." You explained, and Jim clapped his hands together, biting his lip.

"Wow... Pam, you want in on this?" He asked, and Pam nodded from her desk, still on the phone. You sent off the email and looked at the time, about to leave for the pranking when Karen sat on your desk.

"How can I help?" She asked, and you stopped for a moment. You hadn't thought of her being involved at all, and a part of you didn't like her intruding on the joy you shared with Jim and Pam. You shook it off quickly.

"Oh! Yes! Ok... Wait, I got it." You grinned. "Would you like to be the Russian spy?" You asked her, and Karen's smile turned micheivous. She coughed a little, and took a deep breath.

"Why, I would love it." Karen said in her best Russian accent. "Oh, wait, let me learn something in Russian." She ran back to her desk, and you stood up from your desk, heading through the kitchen and to the break room to find a pacing Dwight.

"Sit." You said in a deeper voice than usual, closing the door behind you as Dwight sat down. "What I say must be kept confidential, Agent Schrute. Do you understand?" You walked to the vending machine, slotting some coins in and getting yourself a chocolate bar.

"But... How could you... Are you-"

"Agent Robin DeMarco, CIA. I've been in deep cover since "Y/N's" return." You said with a sigh, trying your hardest to not crack up. You turned to look at Dwight. "Didn't you find it odd that your old coworker came back from Europe skinnier?" You asked, sitting across from him.

"They do have a very carb-heavy diet over there."

"I have been surveilling this company for months now, Dwight. We got tipped off that there was a spy based here, in Scranton." You looked around quickly. "We had to make sure you weren't going against your country."

"I would never!" Dwight said, outraged, and you shushed him quickly. He hunched over. "I thought I was compromised..."

"You are, one of your coworkers is a spy Dwight. We believe they intercepted our messages before Christmas." You couldn't quite grasp how easy it was to fool Dwight, but it was entertaining nonetheless. The door suddenly opened, and you sat up straight, turning to look at Karen. She walked in, a swagger in her step as she smirked at the pair of you, getting herself a packet of chips.

"Я надеюсь, что вы рады возвращению Оскара. Дуайт идиот." Karen muttered under her breath as she left, and you shared a shocked look with Dwight, which was only half fake. You couldn't quite believe that Karen had managed to learn something in Russian in the last ten minutes.

"Was the spy in anyway Russian, Agent DeMarco?" He asked, and you nodded slowly.

"We have to keep this hush hush for now Dwight... This is dangerous stuff... Threat Level Midnight." You couldn't help but add it in.

"That's a real threat level?" Dwight asked, and you took a bite of the candy bar you had bought.

"Indeed... We had considered Michael for a time as the spy because of his knowledge." You whispered, standing quickly and walking to the door. You turned back in as movielike a fashion as possible. "You are now an active agent, Schrute. Keep quiet, watch closely... And don't fuck this up. We don't know who to trust anymore." You warned him, and he stood up, saluting as you walked back through to the main office, highfiving Karen on the way back to your desk.

--

By lunchtime, you had managed to convince half the office to get in on it and really boost Dwight's paranoia. With Karen playing the villain, constantly coming over to Jim and flirting with him for the sole purpose of giving you and Dwight cruel looks, everybody involved took on roles. You established Pam as a confidante via an email to Dwight, Jim was a suspected conspirator, Phyllis, Kevin and Meredith agreed to talk in hushed voices in the corner while looking at Dwight, and when Oscar arrived back, Pam filled him in on the ongoing prank, to which he happily agreed to speak constantly in Spanish to you while Karen glared over.

The mass conspiracy was brilliant, and as the end of the day rolled around, Oscar had told you all about his extended leave: mentioning amongst tales of London and Berlin that he went with his partner Gil.

"Wait... I didn't know you were gay." You said, in Spanish, after Oscar recounted a rather romantic trip to the Effiel Tower. He looked surprised, and then a little worried. You hadn't been around for the fiasco that was September. You quickly realised the worry, and sat up straight. "No, no, I didn't mean it like that-"

"No, I get it. It's hard to wrap your head around..." Oscar said with a sigh, disheartened by the reaction. You quickly decided to save yourself from losing a friend on their first day back.

"No, Oscar, honest. I'm not straight." You quickly cleared up, causing Oscar to look up in surprise. "Guys and girls... That's me. Girlfriend in Spain for, like, five months." You added, glad the office surrounding you was so bad with languages. Oscar laughed, giving you a tight hug, which you reciprocated.

"Hey! Why does Y/N get to hug you?" Michael called from his office, and Oscar pulled away.

"Does he know?" Oscar asked, the pair of you continuing in Spanish, and you shook your head.

"Jim and Pam do, but otherwise, I am straight to the office." Oscar nodded, and the pair of you glanced at the clock. "Almost party time..." You muttered, switching back to English, and Oscar stood up.

"I'll talk to you later, DeMar-Y/L/N." Oscar corrected himself, looking over at Dwight. Your desk mate had been entranced by your entire conversation, though he wasn't the only one.

Across the room, Andy had been desk sharing with Oscar for the day, and trying to translate every word you had spoken that day in the foreign language, and was more than freaked out by the mumbles that had been going around the room, intended to cause paranoia in Dwight. Not only that, his day had been pretty terrible since Michael shot him down on weekend plans, and Andy was convinced the whole world was against him.

He came over to your desk as the clock hit 5, the office shutting down for the party Angela had set up with the help of Pam and Phyllis, pinatas and all.

"You know, a workplace with secrets is no fun, Y/N..." Andy sat against your desk as you closed down your computer. "So, what have you been talking about all day?" He asked, and you shrugged, catching Jim sending you a wink behind Andy's back.

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on. You and Dwight have been sneaking off to empty rooms, the oldies have been congregating on the hour, Pam keeps sending you and Dwight faxes, Jim and Karen keep staring around the office. What are you hiding from me?" Andy asked again, and you shook your head, holding back a laugh. Jim decided to torment you, making faces behind Andy's back, and you couldn't help it.

You laughed in Andy's face.

Now, you had heard reports of how Andy could get a little heated sometimes. You had seen a least one very angry phone call, yourself. However, you really didn't expect him to start shouting in your face.

"REALLY?!" Andy yelled back, and the whole office stopped what they were doing. "Why don't you just tell me what's going on, huh? Are you all plotting against me? Is that it?!" He was loud, and you could feel yourself panicking, and you couldn't help it as you began to hyperventilate. Jim's face went from shock at Andy's actions to concern for yours.

"Andy, it was a prank on-" Jim began.

"On me?! You thought you could prank me, Halpert, huh?" Andy yelled louder, and Michael came out of his office.

"What is this? Y/N, are you ok?" Michael asked, noticing how pale you were.

"No! I'm the victim here! You are all talking about me in foreign languages, thinking I'm stupid?! I'm the best sales person here! And all this? It's not funny! It's pretty freaking unfunny!" Andy screamed to the room, his anger finally collecting in his fist, and a loud thud caused you to jump, gripping onto Michael's arm.

Andy had punched a hole in the wall. A full-on hole.

The silence that followed was deafening, and no-one moved. Andy removed his hand from the damage site, and chuckled nervously as he turned to the room.

"That... Was a bit of an overreaction... Sorry about that." He smiled as he spoke, but no-one responded. "I'm gonna head to the break room... Anyone want anything? Pam, you good? Kevin? No?"

"Dwight, pack up Andy's stuff... You, in my office. We need to make some calls. Someone get me Toby... Everyone else, enjoy the party." Michael said, giving your shoulder a squeeze and gesturing for Andy to head into his office. He did, with his head hanging down and his shoulders slouched, much to Dwight's delight. He never liked Andy.

"Y/N, are you alright?" Jim was the first to speak up, and you nodded silently, smiling to reassure him.

"Let's... Let's just celebrate Oscar's homecoming." You said with enthusiasm, trying to lighten the mood. "Meredith!" You called over the office, the redhead looking up as you got her attention. "Do you have any tequila, by chance?" You asked, and she held up a bottle. "Great, the work day is over, let's make margaritas and stereotype an entire culture. You good with that, Oscar?" You asked, and Oscar let out a laugh, nodding.

"I could use a drink." He admitted, and the office slowly migrated into the conference room, eating and idly chattering away the sudden events that had transpired. You really didn't know how to feel about it all, when Dwight came over, sombero on his head and a glass of milk in hand.

"So, who was Andy working for? I always suspected he was an agent..." Dwight whispered in your ear as you took another shot, causing a smile to spread over your face. Dwight still believed it.

"Keep your ear to the ground, Schrute... I have to meet with an associate." You lied quickly, grabbing Jim's arm and pulling him out of the conference room and into the hall outside the office, falling into giggles as the front door closed.

"Is... Is everything ok?" Jim asked, worried you were processing trauma in an unhealthy way.

"Dwight is... He still thinks...." You couldn't help but start laughing again, this time Jim joined in. And stood alone in that hallway, laughing together about Dwight's incompetence, all the fear of Andy's outrage faded to nothing, and you felt safe. Secure. And that smile on Jim's face, the crinkles by his eyes and the way he held onto the wall for support because he couldn't quite control his balance.

You would never be sure if it was the tequila talking, or something else that you had buried deep down in the name of friendship, but you decided in that moment to kiss Jim. Your lips on his, soft and sweet, and while Jim was frozen still at first, he kissed back, his hands going to your waist and yours resting on his shoulders, needing to stand on tip toe to reach him. It only lasted a few seconds, and he pulled away, leaving you lightheaded and heart fluttering.

"I shouldn't..." You began, but Jim shook his head.

"I have to go." He said quickly, walking back into the office, back to his girlfriend, and leaving you alone to wonder what the fuck you had just done.

--

Tags: @imsuperawkward​ @rosie2801​ @onceuponahuntersrealm​ @poppirocks​

#au #jim halpert #michael scott #pam beesly #dwight schrute #the office #jim halpert x reader #jim x reader #office au #reader #reader insert #reader is female #reader is bi? #romance #friendship #pam and jim #jim and pam #slow burn #from season 1 #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #john krasinski #steve carell #jenna fischer #rainn wilson #jackryanplz #part fourteen #queue

[busterkeatonfanfic]

Chapter 22

As Nelly washed her face and braided her hair that night, she could scarcely believe that the weekend was almost over. It had been a happy blur of fishing, bridge lessons, walks in the woods, songs under the stars, and tonight a campfire and a ukulele concert after a dinner of wheat cakes and maple syrup. And of course, not a trivial amount of that time had been passed in bed with Buster. As she’d spent those blissful hours with him, time zipped by without her noticing. 

Buster was humming to himself from the other room and Nelly wondered if the weekend had gone the way he’d expected. She wondered, not the first time, what had he expected. From the way he was behaving, he seemed cheerful and serene, but she wasn’t sure. Men were mysterious. Tomorrow he would go back to his wife and she would return to being a cog in the United Artists machine.

Before leaving the washroom, she brushed her teeth. She was half-tempted to shed her chemise and knickers ahead of bed; they always ended up torn off in the middle of the night anyway.

In the other room, Buster was sitting up in bed with the blankets pulled over his lap and her little red book in his hands, paging through Mistress Nell Gwyn. She felt a flush of embarrassment and regretted not bringing a more serious book along.

“Are you reading it ‘cause the main girl’s called Nelly?” he said, looking up at her.

Her face warmed as she checked the lock to the front door and turned off the floor lamp near the kitchen. “No, I like Marjorie Bowen and I hadn’t read this one yet. The name’s just a coincidence.” And it was, truly. “What do you read?” she said to switch the subject. They’d gotten around to discussing their favorite music (they both liked Bix Beiderbecke, Louis Armstrong and his Hot Five, and Paul Whiteman), but not their favorite books. 

Buster looked slightly abashed as she switched off the table lamp by the sofa. “Does Popular Mechanics count?”

“Well, not as far as novels go,” she said, crossing the room and lifting the corner of the sheets on her side of the bed to slide in next to Buster. 

“I read a dime novel once and awhile. Mostly don’t have the time,” said Buster. “But your book—she’s sweet on old King Charlie?”

Nelly took the book from him, amused. “King Charles II,” she corrected. 

“Why d’ya like it?” said Buster. He burrowed deeper into the covers and snuggled against her shoulder like a boy wanting a bedtime story. 

“I like novels based on real things. I get a history lesson and the people from back then feel more real.”

“Did you see my picture The General?” asked Buster.

“Of course,” said Nelly. Her memory of the film wasn’t very strong, but she knew that she had enjoyed it quite a lot and remembered gasping with the rest of the audience at his daring stunts on the train. She seemed to recall that she found him good-looking with his long hair and sober looks, but apparently not so good-looking that she’d felt compelled to write him a mash note or glue his picture into her scrapbook like she had with John Barrymore.

“Now that picture, you see, was based on real facts. And the train was really called the General!” Buster launched into the story of the Great Locomotive Chase of 1862, and Nelly listened with contentment to his animated retelling. He talked all about the production of the picture, having to find narrow-gauge railroad tracks, learning how to operate a steam engine, hiring the National Guard to play soldiers, and playing baseball near the Willamette Valley. “I thought it was my finest picture but the critics all blasted it. Said it was a flop. I haven’t been able to make sense of it. Guess they thought I should leave the serious acting to types like your fellow, John Barrymore.”

“He’s not my fellow, Buster,” Nelly chided. She ran her fingers idly through his dark hair.

“What happened to being his leading lady?” he said, kissing her bare upper arm.  

“Oh, don’t tease me for being romantic when I didn’t know him. I didn’t know what he was really like. Didn’t I tell you? When I was in Tempest, he came right into the ladies room and pissed in the sink right in front of me. And if that wasn’t enough, he picked his nose right in front of me too! He was so drunk he couldn’t tell left from right. I had to help him back to Mr. Taylor.”

Buster laughed. “You’re kidding.”

“Gosh, I wish I was. He kept us there all night he was so drunk. They had to build a sort of carousel for Camilla Horn and him to finish their ballroom dance.” Thinking of Tempest, Nelly was reminded of something that had been on her mind since her hours with Buster had begun to draw to a close. “I want to say something serious to you now though.”

Buster, to his credit, didn’t try to make a joke. “What’s that?”

“In the book”—for a second, Nelly lifted the red volume that lay between them—“Nell Gwyn is just an orange seller at the playhouse. One night, King Charles invites her to a tavern with his friends Rochester and Buckingham. He remembers seeing her before and likes her. While they’re eating and drinking, he asks what she means to do with her life and she says that she wants to be an actress. Then she dances for him and he leaves her a pair of silver shoes as a gift because she pays for his food and drink. You think that he’s going to see to it that she becomes an actress, but he doesn’t. He has his own matters to worry about and goes on with his life, but she becomes a successful actress on her own—I’m only halfway through of course—and anyhow that’s how he notices her again. He goes to a play and she’s starring.”

“Oh yeah?” said Buster, obviously not understanding. 

“Well, what I’m saying is I appreciate you putting in a word for me with Mr. Taylor, but if you want to continue seeing me …”

Here she paused. It was a brave thing to say aloud because she didn’t know, not for certain, if Buster did want to see her after he dropped her back off at her apartment tomorrow. It wasn’t just false modesty. For all she knew, he had getaways with girls all the time, a new one for every weekend. His waywardness with women had, after all, been one of the first things she’d heard about him back in River Junction: all a girl had to do to seduce him was walk into his dressing room. 

“I don’t want any more favors and I won’t ask for any. I don’t want to play angles anymore. In fact, I prefer to try it on my own in the future, getting parts that is, just to see if I can, if I’m good enough to make it without help. Like Nell Gwyn was.” She let out a deep breath, afraid of his reaction.

“I think that’s fine,” he said, putting a hand on her jaw and turning her head to his so he could kiss her lips. His expression registered no displeasure. “Only I never talked to Sam Taylor. You did that one on your own. Honest.”

Nelly could hardly believe it.“Really?” she said, scanning his eyes to see if he was being truthful. 

“ ‘Course not. Had nothing to do with me,” he said.

“Oh. Well…” said Nelly, feeling silly.

“I’ll make a note. No angles, no favors. I’ll let you go it alone like your Nell Gwyn.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Tell me what happens next in your book, though.”

Feeling that a weight had been lifted, Nelly went on. “Well, the King sees Nell at a play and as soon as he notices her silver shoes, he remembers who she is.”

“Then what?” said Buster, caressing her hand. 

“I don’t know. Then she becomes his mistress,” Nelly said. She felt embarrassed to admit that she read such books.

“Did he have a queen?”

“Oh yes, Queen Catherine, the one who got the British to start drinking tea, but she doesn’t get much mention in the book. Mrs. Bowen’s more concerned with his mistresses. He had about a dozen. There’s the Countess of Castlemaine and Moll Davis, who’s another actress. Nelly was just one, but she was the most loyal.” She looked down to where Buster was holding her hand in his and rubbing it with a thumb, and wondered what he was thinking about her foolish taste in novels. 

“Will you be my mistress?”

Nelly turned her face to him, stunned. For a moment, she thought it was just one of his many jokes. One look at the beseeching expression on his face told her it wasn’t. Such waves of happiness and consternation struck her then that it was several seconds before she could answer. “Yes,” she said. There could hardly be another answer. And yet even as she consented, she thought of the Countess of Castlemaine, Moll Davis, and the Duchess of Portsmouth.  

“You got this look on your face,” said Buster.

“Do I?” she said, feeling flustered. 

“Yeah. A look that’s telling me you got something on your mind you ain’t telling me.”

Now that they were being so honest, she couldn’t deny him the real answer, even though it was preposterous to ask for faithfulness from a man who was already someone else’s husband.

“Well, are there others?” she said, searching his eyes. 

“Other what?” said Buster, cocking his head a little. “Mistresses? No.” He squeezed her hand. “Now I ain’t going to lie, I’ve had steadies before, not what you’d call mistresses exactly, but cross my heart I haven’t been with a girl in months. Are you asking if I’ll be true to you?”

Nelly looked away. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, but reminded herself she was trying to be honest. “I suppose I am and it’s the silliest thing to ask. I know you’re married. I’m not asking you to… Well, I guess I don’t know what I’m asking. Maybe I’m a little jealous, not about your wife, but about other girls because I—I like you already.” She looked back at him, fearing his reaction, but he was only regarding her in the same interested way he had when she’d relayed the plot of her book. “Please don’t take what I’m saying the wrong way, I know it seems like I’m looking a gift horse in the mouth,” she said hurriedly. “And I don’t expect you to keep me either like King Charles keeps Nelly, with satin and pearls and houses. Oh, I’m sorry for making this such a muddle. All I should have said was yes. I just want to be pals like we’ve been this weekend. I know it’s not right to ask.”

“ ‘Course we’ll stay pals,” said Buster. “And I promise no satin and pearls. I can still buy you dinner, can’t I?” 

Nelly laughed, her spirits feeling lighter. “Of course you can. I just don’t want to be a kept woman, okay? You can still do all the normal stuff a fellow would.”

Buster’s hand found its way down the front of her chemise and she pulled in a sharp breath as he rolled his finger lightly around the perimeter of her nipple. “Like this?”

She nodded, her eyes closing as his thumb joined the finger and pinched with gentle pressure. Her mind went back to the sight of him between her legs in the forest, his dark messy hair that he’d stopped slicking down with Brilliantine during the course of the weekend, and she groaned at the memory. She rolled onto her side, Buster’s hand still busy at her breast, and slid her hand beneath the brim of his pajama trousers.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” she said, grasping the warm, silky length of him. 

Buster shifted onto his side. “Yeah, you’ve been teaching me something about efficiency.” He gave a wince of pleasure as she began to move her hand up and down. He withdrew his hand from her chemise and put it in her knickers, and she felt as warm as she had in the sun on Saturday as his fingers began their clever work.

They exchanged pleasures like that for a couple minutes before Buster began tugging her chemise over her head. She unbuttoned his pajama shirt as he played with her breasts. It would be a terribly long time before she was ever bored by the way he tensed his stomach when she touched him, making all the muscles stand out like they were sculpted in marble. She pressed her breasts against her chest as she pulled his pajama shirt the rest of the way off of him, and Buster began wrestling her knickers down. When they were all the way undressed, both still lying on their sides, Nelly put her leg over him.

“Let’s try it without,” she whispered, as Buster kissed her neck and ear. It was a crazy thing to ask, but she was beyond thinking straight. 

“What, without a thin?” he said with surprise. 

“I think it’d be okay. If you pull out before--” She blushed. “I want to see how it feels without it.”

Buster kissed her forehead once, twice, three times in obvious gratitude. “Alright.” 

Nelly shifted herself lower and guided him into her with a hand. For a few moments, Buster was perfectly still. Nelly breathed deeply, feeling him without a barrier for the first time and jubilant with the sensation, as well as the weight of his proposal. A mistress. 

He made love to her more slowly than he had on previous occasions, pausing for long stretches to kiss her, then grasping her backside to push himself deeper. Eventually, the slow pace sent her into such a frenzy that she took control of the rhythm. He caught on and went faster. When every muscle on him stood out again as if sculpted, she knew he was close. 

“Don’t forget to pull out,” she said, seeking his eyes. 

“I won’t,” he said breathlessly. He gave such a fierce, pleasurable thrust that she keened, and that caused him to withdraw suddenly and rock himself against her stomach until he came with a shuddering groan. 

She stroked his cheekbone when he was finished. His eyes had closed and his breathing was deep and satisfied. Buster Keaton’s mistress. She was so filled with the thought that she felt barely any guilt when she thought of his wife. It was, after all, easy to justify. He was not intimate with her; she had realized that when he mentioned that he slept alone. She had never forgotten his statement the night of his party either, that the marriage was headed for divorce. But there she cut off her thoughts. She was getting far too ahead of herself. It was enough that they had gotten on like a house on fire and that Buster was holding her in his arms now, smelling like sweat and cigarettes and himself. 

“Buster,” she said. She could tell he was starting to fall asleep.

“Mmmph,” said Buster. 

“We should set an alarm for tomorrow. My tram leaves at 6:45 and I’ve got to be at work around 7:30. We should get up at four so we have time to pack and so I can get ready.”

Buster rolled onto his back and cupped the crown of his head in his hands. “Don’t worry about the tram, I’ll drop you off.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want to get you into any trouble. If anyone sees us, they’ll talk,” she said. 

Buster opened one eye and lifted his eyebrow. “Let ‘em talk,” he said.

“Okay,” said Nelly, not quite knowing what to make of this attitude. 

Nell Gwyn had been no secret to King Charles II’s subjects, but somehow Nelly thought that Buster Keaton’s public would be less tolerant if he got into the habit of parading around a mistress. Nonetheless, she didn’t argue with him. As she cleaned his seed off of her in the washroom, she didn’t have a thought except for how happy she was when she was around him.

Note: Just a PSA that this is fiction and not an endorsement of the pull-out method (although Planned Parenthood notes that it is 96% effective if used correctly 100% of the time). Obviously it doesn't prevent STDs. You should always use protection with a new partner. ;)

#Buster Keaton #Fan fiction #RPF #Actor RPF #Golden Age Hollywood #silent film

[tatiletotesamaze]

“Good Morning, how are we feeling?” Mentor XX asked, sitting down and smiling. The man who stared back at them seemed tired, worn. Perfectly understandable given the circumstances. “Not too chatty then? That’s fine. Thirsty?”

They popped the top off the thermoflask. Steam floated out, bringing with it the faint waft of spicy, warm tea. The man blinked slowly. Mentor gently pushed the full cup across the table. Their newest charge watched blankly, almost gormlessly. But inside something was still ticking along. They could see it in those dead, grey eyes.

“Everything in the Empire is built on solid foundations, isn’t it?”

***

“Tell me what happened on the Void.”

“There was a blue light and… everyone just faded away.”

“Do we have to start over, Cipher?”

“Start over? That’s what happened! You have the footage. I know the Navy wouldn’t have scrapped the computers before you got your hands on them.”

“Now now, Forty-Five-”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Temper.”

“I have a name.”

“Do you? What is it?”

“It- it’s… I…”

“Now, Cipher, what happened on the Void?”

“There was a blue light-”

“Try again.”

“There was a blue light-”

“Why don’t we take a break for now, and give it another go in a few hours? Once you’ve had a chance to calm down.”

***

“Lieutenant Rochester Windthorpe, deceased.” Mentor XX carefully laid the datapad on the table.  The room was cold, grey and decorated with harsh lighting. “You seem quite lively for a dead man.”

Rochester stared at them. He’d been in this room for four hours now. Before that… various places he couldn’t remember. Days had passed. Six, he was sure, since…

He said nothing.

Mentor XX smiled. It was a warm and friendly smile and if Rochester was in a place to feel, he would have been afraid.

“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? Solid grades, not exceptional, but demonstrating an analytical mind and a penchant for ‘individualism’. Certainly officer material. Though it would do you a disservice to say you got into our programme on anything but merit, I think we both know your familial connections played some part in your being accepted.” Mentor shrugged. “If nothing else, it helps to know Sith.”

And not be intimidated by them, Rochester thought.

“A shame you couldn’t stay,” Mentor paused, checking something on the datapad. “Lord Vizloch just would not allow it.”

“No…” His voice croaked. His throat was dry, jaw stiff from clenching. “I failed… I wasn’t good enough.”

Mentor XX stiffened. It should have been imperceptible. It was, almost. But he noticed it, the sudden flash of steel behind the eyes, a tightening of the smile. Do we have to start over?

“Is that so?” The smile warmed again. Mentor’s tone was soothing, underpinned with something patronizing. Like he was a child. A stupid, petunlant child. He had said the wrong thing. “Well, if you’re not good enough, I suppose we’re done here.”

***

“Cipher, forget this conversation.”

“You said that last time.”

“Did I? Well, it’s been a long day. Good night, sleep tight.”

***

“Hello, how are we feeling today?”

Mentor XX closed the door behind them. Only a flash of the bleak corridor outside, but it was enough to get the man’s attention.

“Sore.” He said.

“Are your sleeping quarters not to your liking?”

Rochester looked behind him. There was a crease in the wall where a bed would pop out, whenever it was time to sleep. The lights were always on.

“It’s fine. I fell.” A quick roll of his shoulder, to show where he’d once tripped? Slipped? He’d gone down hard, seen something.

“Bed rest and stretches.” Mentor set the datapad down and took a seat. “Now, please tell me about what happened on the Void.”

“I t- We picked up the team from [planet]. They had some cargo. The manifests for it weren’t filled in correctly, so I had to fix that before we could leave. One of the crates… it came from Belsavis… but that wasn’t noted down anywhere. I was going to fix it but Major… Major…” He stops, brows furrowed as he cannot remember the name, nor anything else about the Major.

“Forget the Major, Cipher, what happened next?”

“We left the system. We were going home to Kaas.”

“Good.”

“There was an explosion. No, the atmosphere. We vented atmosphere? But there wasn’t an alarm. I checked, nothing failed. There was a bl-”

“Calm down Cipher.”

“We lost atmosphere, somewhere near the Doldur sector. I tried to send out a distress call. There was a hull breach. There was… they were… in the walls, the floor-”

“Calm down. Cipher.”

“-bits. That’s how I fell.” His voice full of wonder, looking at his shoulder, imagining the blood that coated him, seeing the face.

“Cipher, do we have to start over?”

“Yes.” Rochester swallowed. Panic and pain rising with bile in his throat as he remembered that awful corridor. Red lights flashing, red on the floor, the walls.

He wanted to start over. He wanted to forget.

---

His rib bent. He felt the bone shift and come dangerously close to breaking. He was at his limit. It was only the first fight. The fist kept going and he rocked with it. Let it push him back and away from the followup. Not fast enough. His opponent crashed an elbow into his sternum. Rochester went to the floor in a heap, gasping.

“That’s what you want to train?” 

He heard them muttering across the room. His new cybernetics were better; too good, really. His spine was more flexible and the only pain he could feel in his back was the surgical incisions, still healing. The plate from his stomach was gone. He had an armour plate over it at the moment - the plugs and muscles were delicate, taking their time. That part of him was off limits for now.

His opponent helped him to his feet. He got up, wanting nothing more than to just lie on the ground forever.

She was a little shorter than him. Well-muscled in a disarming way. She had an air of being designed; of being sculpted and molded into a weapon for any occasion. He didn’t know her name or her designation and, being in the middle of forgetting his, he’d been introduced as Red. In turn, she’d introduced herself as Grey.

She didn’t smile. She wasn’t kind. And she’d beat the living shit out of him until told to stop.

“Again.” Shadowy assessors lined the room. He was sure some of them even were real.

---

“We need to concentrate on combat abilities. I believe the asset could excel in close quarters given enough time.”

“Is that why you’ve struck the seduction practicals from the itinerary?”

“That subject isn’t strictly relevant to--”

“It’s a core part of being a Cipher. If the asset cannot make a lasting impression on the target a mission will fail.”

“If you look again, Trainer, you’ll see only certain parts of the practical have been struck.”

“I noticed, Mentor.”

“And if you check against the asset’s history, you’ll see there’s only so far we can push before that mind breaks. Irreparably.”

“We can run a mental assessment. Perhaps the control levied in a training scenario will help to overcome previous trauma?”

“The asset has been sexually active for some years now so I don’t believe that’s entirely the issue.”

“Then what, Mentor?”

“The issue of control, as you said.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Quite. Keeper?”

“I agree with Mentor, for now. Keep the adjusted itinerary. However, assessments should be carried out routinely and should the asset be deemed capable you can entrust it to Trainer. Keep it at an appropriate rank until such time as it can meet all the requirements of being a Cipher.”

“Of course, Keeper.”

“Thank you, Keeper.”

“Dismissed.”

---

“Trainer, this is Forty-Five.”

Trainer’s eyebrows creased in a brief, if obvious, loss of control. Mentor didn’t bother to admonish her.

“He’s… familiar with the theory, Mentor?” She asked, now pointedly ignoring Forty-Five. 

Mentor nodded. They were as stern and emotionless as always but Forty-five could tell something was off. Perhaps Mentor was concerned he might fail? Or perhaps enjoy the studies too much. There had been mutterings about other candidates - field agents all - who were deemed a little too eager. That would not be an issue. Mentor left with nary a word goodbye.

Trainer waved him into a little room. A table, some props and…

“We’re of course aware of your personal preferences, Forty-five, but personal preferences do not apply on a mission. Do not think of this as a test,” Lie. Everything was a test. “Today we are simply gauging your inherent abilities. Mimicking romance will not be necessary here - consider that any and all types of connection are important. Now, this is my fellow Trainer, Sixty-Four. Seduce her, befriend her, whatever you see fit. I will observe.”

He nodded. The immediate panic did not subside but he was able to quash it. He sat, unsure of how to begin.

Sixty-Four took the lead. Her body language changed dramatically. Her stiff posture and cold stare disappeared. She seemed all at once carefree and her smile was a joyous one, meant for a festival or a lover.

He mirrored her. It was not easy. The muscles in his face rallied against being pulled into an unnatural smile. Memories of who he might have been looking at, once upon a time, threatened to overwhelm him. Feeling sick, his gut knotting, he twisted these visions, picking them apart and erasing the one person he most dearly wanted to see. It was over. He would have to change.

“Hi.” He said, a little laugh in his voice.

“Hey.” She said back, happy to see him.

#swtor #open thinking #writing

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Literature Past and Present

AU-gust Day Two: College AU Fandom: Once Upon A Time Pairing: Rumbelle

Rated: G

Summary: Gold’s trepidation at returning to university to get his degree over two decades after he first dropped out is put to rest on meeting one of his professors, Belle French.

Note: This is set in the UK in my alma mater.

===

Literature Past and Present

Despite this being something that he had wanted to do for a long time, Gold couldn’t help but feel a distinct sense of fear as he made his way across the university campus towards his very first class of the term. 

For a long time after he’d dropped out of university the first time, Gold had worked on the principle that he didn’t need a degree and his business ventures had worked perfectly fine without one for many years. 

Now that Neal had graduated and had a family of his own, and now that his property ventures and the antique shop did not require as much of his personal input as they always used to, Gold had found his tune changing slightly. Hearing about everything that Neal had got up to during his own studying days had reignited Gold’s interest in learning.

He had no desire to participate in the usual student lifestyle, he was far too old for that now, but his desire to go back and actually finish his degree this time was becoming stronger and stronger, until he had bitten the bullet and applied to study English as a mature student at the local university. 

He would be the oldest person in his class by quite a way; he held no compunctions about that. He was prepared for all the strange looks that he would receive, surrounded by people more than half his age, which was why he was arriving early. Hopefully, he would be able to find a seat at the back of the room, nice and unobtrusive. As long as he made it clear that he was here to learn and not get involved in anything else, then he’d be left alone. 

He made it to the room where the first seminar of the semester was taking place and peered in through the glass panel in the door. He was the first student to arrive, but the professor was already there, tapping away on her laptop whilst the screen showed the first slide of a presentation. 

Gold took a deep breath and entered the room. The door squeaked ominously as he closed it behind him and the professor looked up, giving him a smile. 

“You’re keen. We’re not due to start for another fifteen minutes, you know.”

Gold nodded. “Yes. I, erm… Yes.” 

He sank into a seat at the back of the room and the professor continued to type for a while. The slide on the screen showed her to be Dr Belle French, and it welcomed him to English Module 1001: Literature Past and Present (Part One). 

Gold pulled his notebook and pens out of his bag. It was like being back at school again, just as nerve-wracking, although he was sure that this particular teacher wouldn’t be as strict or terrifying as the ones he had known in his childhood, and that would make for a better experience. He looked down at the reading list. He’d enjoyed going through all of the books over the summer, especially reading the ones that he had already read in a different, more critical light, thinking about the messages that the words conveyed, either intentionally or otherwise.

Presently, Dr French stopped typing and closed the laptop, coming round the desk and leaning back on it.

“So, can I know the name of my diligent student?”

It took Gold a moment to twig that she was speaking to him and not to any of the other currently non-existent people in the room.

“Raymond Gold,” he said eventually.

“Pleased to meet you, Raymond. I’m Belle. I don’t stand on ceremony in my classes; Dr French always sounds so stuffy and formal. So, are you taking English as a single honours course or a supplementary?”

“Single.”

“Great! In that case, I’ll be seeing you again – I take a lot of the analysis and writing skills lectures as well. And if you’re that way inclined, I teach all the feminist literature modules to the second and third years.” She laughed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be so forward, but I’m all for pimping my courses on the first day. You never know what might stick in people’s heads. So, what made you decide to choose English?”

“Well, as you can probably see, I’m not taking a degree to help me on my future career path.” He paused. “I apologise, that sounds like I’m disparaging your field as not being useful.”

Belle shrugged. “I don’t mind, it’s a common argument. ‘What can you do with a BA in English?’ as the Avenue Q song puts it so well. I mean, I’m happy to have the argument with you, but we’ve only got seven minutes before the class starts and I can go on all day if I’ve a mind to. Anyway, go on.”

“What I mean is, when I decided to come back and get my degree after far too long since I dropped out, I was lucky to be in the privileged position of being able to study something that I wanted to study just because I enjoyed it, rather than having to think about what could be the most advantageous to me in the future.”

“I like that sentiment.” Belle smiled. “I wonder how many more people would follow their dreams if they had that same chance. And obviously, I’m biased, but I must say that I’m very glad that English is the subject that you enjoy and chose to study. I’m lucky really, I knew that all I ever wanted to do in my life was work with literature and write, so becoming an academic presented itself to me as a career path early.” She paused. “Do you mind if I ask what your career has turned out to be?”

“I’ve done all sorts of things and had all sorts of investments, but mainly antiques trading. I learned on the job and never looked back. Well, until my son graduated, and I realised that I wanted to have that learning experience again. He never let me hear the end of it, teasing me that I was trying to steal his thunder. I know he’s pleased deep down. Dropping out was one of my biggest regrets.” Gold laughed. “I did law the first time around. I think I’ve made a much better choice this time.”

“Well, naturally I think so, but I’ve got a vested interest in keeping you on this course.” Belle winked, and Gold had to look down at his pens with intense interest. He absolutely could not be developing a crush on the professor on his first day. Student-teacher liaisons were not a good idea. Although, that said, that was usually because the students were a lot younger than the teachers in the position of power, and he could safely say that was definitely not the case with him and Belle. All the same, it would be a bit strange. No, he could not and would not fancy Dr French.

At that point, their conversation had to break off as more students started to arrive and take their seats, and Belle started to talk to them as well. Although Gold received a few odd looks from his classmates, once the seminar began and people began to talk about the subject rather than themselves, things became much more relaxed. Gold kept his head down for the most part, not getting too involved in the lively debates, but he was content to listen and learn. Every so often, his eye caught Belle’s, and she always had a smile for him.

Gold sighed. This was not a very auspicious start to his degree.

X

Belle held her office hours on Wednesday afternoons, traditionally the time of the week with the least scheduled lectures and seminars. It was always hit and miss as to how many visitors she would get on any given week; sometimes they were queuing up outside her office before she even got there, and other times she could sit with the door open for the full two hours and not hear a peep from anyone.

They were about a quarter of the way through the semester, and this week was one of the quiet ones. The students had a paper due the next Friday, so she anticipated a last-minute rush the next week. Today was the calm before the storm, and she was sitting happily in the late autumn sunshine that streamed in through her window, reading a novel. There was plenty of academic work that she could have been doing instead, but she never liked to get stuck into anything during office hours in case she was interrupted and lost her thread.

A knock on the doorframe pulled her out of her thoughts and she spun around in her chair to see Raymond Gold standing there, looking nervous. It was the first time that he had come to her office hours. That wasn’t unusual – some students never came, and others were in practically every other week. Belle didn’t begrudge either type; everyone had their own ways of learning and studying.

“Hi Raymond, come on in. What can I do for you? Is it about the essay?”

He shook his head, coming in and sitting at the other chair in the room. Being a junior lecturer as she was and not yet a tenured professor, Belle shared her office with a colleague, Merida. They got on well and were almost never in the office at the same time, which was a blessing when it came to office hours as there was really not enough room for more than two people in the glorified broom cupboard that they shared.

“No, it’s not about the essay. Well, it is a bit, I suppose. I, erm, I read your book.”

“Oh.” Belle felt herself blushing. Publishing her book had been a strange point in her career; she was so proud of her achievement but at the same time she still felt ridiculously egoistic to be recommending her own work to her students as a study aid.

“I just wanted to talk to you about it,” Raymond continued. “I really enjoyed it. It was very insightful.”

“I’m glad you liked it. Not many people can sit through two hundred pages of contextual analysis of the Brontë sisters which basically boils down to ‘who’s worse, Rochester or Heathcliff?’”

“Heathcliff, by a mile,” Raymond said. “But I think there’s a lot more to it than that.”

They continued to talk, Belle checking that there was no one else hanging around the door wanting to speak to her every so often, but they were not interrupted. It was wonderful talking about her passion, and even more so finding that one of her students shared it.

She sighed inwardly. She had vowed when she had first discovered Raymond in her seminar that she would not treat him any differently to the rest of her students because of his age, but now she was having more and more trouble with that. Not with treating him any differently in class, that was never a problem. But with this moment now, with the moments when they spoke outside of the academic context. He was closer to her own age than every other student she’d met – he was actually older than her, which was rare in academia. Outside of the classroom, it was harder and harder to see him as a student and not as… something else.

She wondered what the etiquette was in these circumstances. Rules on student and teacher fraternisation were in place for a reason, but he was a very different student.

Belle waited until he had left before knocking her head against her desk with a groan. The last few minutes of their conversation had become stilted, as if they were both waiting for the other to make the first move. She couldn’t be imagining it that he was grappling with the same kind of feelings that she was. She could see it in his dark brown eyes, watching her whilst she talked animatedly about her pet projects.

“So, I take it that the head-desk has something to do with the handsome chap who I just walked past?” Merida came back into the office and took the now vacant chair, prodding Belle until she looked up and nodded.

“What do I do now, Merida?”

“Well, I suggest you run after him and ask him if he wants to go and get a cup of tea, but then that’s just what worked for me and Mulan.”

“He’s one of my students, Merida.”

“Really? Wow.” She looked over her shoulder out of the room and ducked back in. “Well, he’s not got to the stairwell yet. How long are the corridors in this building? It’s downright ridiculous.”

“He’s a student, Merida.”

“Belle…” Merida sighed. “Go with your gut, love. All things considered, is it really going to be as much of a problem as you think it might be? You’re both definitely grown-up, I’m sure you can be civil about the whole thing.”

Belle nodded. Merida was right. It might not be orthodox, but then, Raymond was not exactly an orthodox student.

She got up and left her office, following him down the corridor at a pace that was not quite a run but definitely not just a walk. She caught up to him in the entrance.

“Wait, Raymond.”

He turned back towards her.

“Belle?”

“I was just wondering… I don’t have anywhere to be until five. Did you want to get a cup of tea maybe?”

Raymond smiled. “That would be lovely. And my friends generally call me Rum.”

“Rum. I like that.”

Belle couldn’t stop smiling as they made their way to the small café outside the humanities department building. She was very happy to be considered a friend, and maybe, in time, more than a friend.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #Belle French #Mr Gold #college AU #AU-gust #Worry does AU-gust #Fic: Literature Past and Present

[papermoonloveslucy]

IS SHE A NATIONAL HABIT? and OTHER PRESS

December 19, 1965

On Sunday, December 19, 1965, the TV Tab supplement to the Rochester (NY) Democrat and Chronicle, published an article by UPI’s Vernon Scott about the staying power of Lucille Ball. 

The article is reprinted verbatim below, with direct quotes from Lucille Ball in bold and italics. 

By VERNON SCOTT, HOLLYWOOD (UPI) 

"Institution" is an unflattering term for beautiful redhead, but it fits Lucille Ball who, after 14 years in television, is still among the top 10 in the ratings. 

Mention "Lucy" in the civilized world, and people everywhere know who you're talking about.

Lucy's unprecedented longevity as a television comedienne is all the more remarkable in that she began as a starlet in "Roman Scandals" with Eddie Cantor back in 1933. 

Remarkable because she alone among her contemporaries is still a major star. The life span of starlets is usually five years. If a girl can act, she may survive for 15 years. But once a starlet's measurements have been exploited and her youthful beauty fades she dissolves into the scenery on the back lot. 

But Lucy? She's been going strong for 32 years. 

Her figure is terrific. Better than most of this season's sex kittens. On screen she appears a youthful 35. In person her features are animated, her blue eyes brimming with mischief and intelligence. 

What's more, Lucy has survived on the strength of her own comic genius. When she and Desi parted it was predicted Lucy couldn't carry on alone. Wrong. The same was said when Vivian Vance departed last season. Wrong. 

"The Lucy Show" title says it all. She stands alone. 

Asked how she managed to go on and on, Lucy said: "My personal life may have something to do with it. I've almost always enjoyed good health. I take care of myself. I don't drink. I'm happily married, and I don't let work interfere with being a good wife and mother.” 

Is she, indeed, an institution? "I never thought it unflattering to be an institution. The idea appeals to me. I credit the steadfastness of my viewers for my longevity on television. I've become a national habit.” 

"And children love my show, too. I think people began tuning in to the old 'I Love Lucy' show because Desi and I were married on-screen and off. It was different. We had strong audience identification with other married couples.” 

"Later when Vivian and I carried on as a couple of women trying to raise kids without a man around, we still had a great deal of identification with a large segment of the population.” 

"We also knew what not to do. We kept away from vulgarity, distasteful subjects and unwholesomeness." 

Lucy still failed to touch on the element that makes her such a popular favorite. She doesn't really know. Perhaps no one does. 

I think it is that she is the only comedienne who combines humor sometimes outlandish clowning with beauty, sex appeal and, most Importantly, femininity. Even with her hair frowzed, her face dirty and clothes in tatters she looks like a female should look. 

The TV Tab also provided listings, including one for a Monday, December 20, 1965 repeat of “The Lucy Show” episode “Lucy in the Music World” (TLS S4;E3) first aired on September 27, 1965. 

Meanwhile, in Iowa’s The Courier on December 19, 1965, TV critic Ken Murphy wrote about Milton Berle and Lucille Ball, the king and queen of TV comedy. 

Murphy is talking about “Lucy Saves Milton Berle” (TLS S4;E13) first aired on December 6, 1965. 

In Long Beach (CA) the Evening News and Independent-Press-Telegram Tele Vues took a look at Lucy’s partner in crime, Gale Gordon with this article from Bert Resnik’s column Bert’s Eye View: 

IF SANTA CAN FIND it in his heart to forgive the on-screen, blowhard shouting of Gale Gordon, television's meanest man could have the following in his Christmas stocking: A drill-press, a shaper-planer and a band-saw. 

Gale, who currently is flipping his lid as blustering banker Theodore J. Mooney on CBS-TV's Monday "The Lucy Show," is a do-it -yourselfer magna cum laude. 

He does it himself on a 100-acre ranch in the San Ysidro Mountains near Borrego Springs. 

It is doing that utilizes a 37-horsepower, 4-wheel, lightweight tractor that Santa, in the guise of his wife of 28 years, Virginia, gave to him a previous Christmas. 

It is more than just a tractor to Gale. 

"It is therapy for me," he said. 

In addition to the therapeutic tractor, the hoped-for drill press, planer and handsaw, Gale has a cement-mixer (an anniversary present) and numerous tools. 

"I can work all day long mixing cement and to me this is the same as going to the opera for some people. It's completely relaxing."

THERE IS NO therapy for Gale in bombastically blowing his top onscreen. He's not knocking it, mind you. Just don't get the idea that it's the best way to prevent ulcers - not that Gale has one. 

He enjoys the flip-wigging for two reasons: It gets laughs and it brings money.

Both have been coming quite persistently since, as Mayor La Trivia in the "Fibber McGee and Molly" era, he hollered his first roof down. 

On television he's blustered as the meany school principal in "Our Miss Brooks," was Uncle Paul in the "Pete and Gladys" series and served a stint as Mr. Wilson for "Dennis the Menace." 

It is blustering, incidentally, that highly challenges Gale's acting abilities. 

For off-screen, he's the opposite kind of man. 

"People who exhibit temper are very disagreeable," he said. "I don't like to be disagreeable.” 

"By nature, I'm a very placid person. Very little disturbs me." 

In his 43-year-career, Gale learned by observing more temperamental show-business personalities that: "Temper is such a waste of time." 

It is a career that has been marked by an appearance in the 1928 silent movie, "Temptress," with Greta Garbo.” 

"She's the most ethereal and beautiful creature I've ever seen in my life," he said. "Her ability is in the tremendous appeal she has for the audience." 

It is a career that included a radio role as, leading man in "The Mary Pickford Show” in the 1930s. "She was very charming, very considerate." 

Eve Arden, the title star of "Our Miss Brooks," has "no equal" in her style of sophisticated comedy. Miss Arden, Gale and other members of that television series' cast "were a family." 

It is Lucille Ball, however, with whom Gale finds it most stimulating to work. "I admire her above all women her ability, her knowledge of theater and for a very keen sense -- an instinct, actually -- of what will p!ay funny to an audience.” 

"I'd rather be a supporting player for Lucy than be a starring player myself under any of the most favorable conditions.”

The Honolulu (HI) Star-Bulletin printed this brief mention on December 19, 1965, regarding children of celebrities going into show business. 

While across the Pacific, in The San Francisco (CA) Examiner, columnist John J. Miller reported on Lucille Ball’s day in tax court. 

#Lucille Ball #1965 #December 19 #Newspapers #Gale Gordon #The Lucy Show #Milton Berle #Mel Torme #TV #CBS

[6v6taeminisloveshineeworld]

Homme Fatale -Dentist!Vampire!Taemin X Reader

homme fatale 

i. e. An undoubtedly seductive and dangerous man. One with a smile that would be too cruel not to kiss and a cherubic face with a temperament that’s anything but innocent. 

Summary: He was cloaked by the smell of death and wore it as armor. His life had little meaning, he pillaged through the world only to beguile and destroy as his veins hummed with bloodlust and selfish need. Nocturnal creatures should not be swayed by the beating hearts of the living but when Taemin catches a glimpse of you, a mortal in possession of a treacherous supernatural gift, he is faced with the temptation to claim you as his own. At his mercy, you discover a darkness in yourself that you’ve never dared to explore and you never imagined it could taste so sweet.

Genre: Smut, Romance, Dentist AU, Vampire AU, Supernatural, Horror, Lyric fic inspired by WANT MV and other Taemin song lyrics (easter eggs abound)

Rating: M for sexual content, death, and blood

Pairing: Taemin x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.5k+

You’d always had an unhealthy fascination with death. With autumn winds and the way the colors seemed even more vibrant just before everything fell and turned cold. When you were a child you’d been scared of the dark just like everyone else, until the day that same darkness befriended you. 

Your parents always said you’d had an overactive imagination growing up. That you’d kept invisible friends far longer than your classmates and that maybe this was due to the fact that they had never given you any siblings but they were wrong. Your friends were not imaginary, they were just unable to communicate with anyone else. 

It was on your tenth birthday that you first had a full conversation with a ghost. The little girl with blonde hair and green eyes was named Pomona and she seemed to like the same games and books you did. She loved building tree houses in the woods even though she couldn’t carry anything herself. She took sips of the green tea you served her by leaning into the cup with her tongue. 

Even though your visitor glided through walls with ease she was still able to keep down a meal. You’d laughed at her manners and held her hand. To your surprise, you felt the touch of her smooth skin as you never had been able to before. It was then that you knew you were truly different, you would never be able to unsee the spectors that appeared every day before you walking in the streets beside you. Not only was the veil lifted from your eyes unlike others around you but you seemed to be a part of their world as well and it had made Pomona’s departure from you as she ascended to join her family that much harder. 

When your parents had died in a car crash right on the outskirts of town you had thought that maybe this was why you’d been born with these gifts, that maybe your life of living like a pariah was all so that you could have this chance to communicate with your parents even in the afterlife. But there was no apparition. No voices that called for you from the curtain that separated the living from the dead.  And with that hope of communication gone you were left with a gaping hole inside of you but you continued on living in the world as invisibly as you could. It wasn’t hard to do in the small town of Ampleforth where everyone knew their neighbors but still kept to themselves and their clicks. The crowd around your age kept at a distance and the elders that passed you by in the grocery store looked at you with sympathy or rather through you at the poor orphan who never made friends easily. 

During your teenage years you’d had your share of otherworldly lovers. They came eagerly when you called to them while your parents refused to answer you from beyond. It didn’t matter how many candles you lit in your loneliness or how many beautiful fantoms kissed you with lips cold as hell. You never let them possess your soul. You never gave away the reigns of control to anyone.

That isn’t to say you hadn’t tried making living friends. However, most people in Ampleforth didn’t want to think about anywhere beyond Lastshire the next town over. You wanted to travel, you believed that to see the world was to live and you wanted to leave once you had enough money to do so. The townspeople were stuck in their roots and their old ways and even technology was a bit rustic. You often found yourself using the library wifi outside laying on the lawn with Emma, the only friend who really understood you even without knowing your secret in full beyond your morbid curiosities. And today, like any other Friday night was no exception. 

You looked away from your book to glance at her as she laughed aloud and continued to scan her phone. You bookmarked the page where Mr. Rochester disguised as a gypsy woman tells Jane her fortune for what must have been the tenth time you’ve read it over the years and move closer to Emma. 

“What are you reading?” You asked her curiously. “Fanfiction of course,” Emma said smiling. You joined her, reading along and smiling at the fact that someone was so comfortable around you even when you remained silent. 

The graveyard was especially chilly at sunset. You placed your freehand in your pocket to warm it and clutched the bag of glazed donuts and bouquet of white lilies to your chest with the other. Your parents graves resided on the grounds of St. Samael church, though the grounds hadn’t been tended in ages. After enemy troops from the Battle of Cymadd two-hundred years before took refuge in its walls it was seen as a sacrilege to worship here. Your mother and father however had lovely memories of picnics and stolen kisses on these grounds where no one would look for them and so when their will had stated that they were to be buried here in the desecrated church you hadn’t batted an eye though the tongues of Ampleforth had wagged.

You knelt before their graves and blew off the dried leaves. You divided the flowers evenly between them and placed a donut on each of the stones as you sat beside them and ate the rest. The anniversary of their death always washed you with a flood of anxiety. It was foolish to think that maybe on this day the abyss driven between you and them would be broken and they would appear before you. On the other hand you chided yourself for such selfish wishes. They were happy in their own paradise and only an ungrateful daughter would wish them to visit the earth once more, even if it was to say goodbye. 

The tears came then, unbidden. You lay on your back and shut your eyes. Shutting the pain away simultaneously for crying never could erase the scars.  At least here in the darkness you knew yourself even when your own thoughts were frightening and loud to your own ears. 

Your mind was filled with the epitaphs of the graves that stood tall here around you, phases passed your eyelids like shooting stars.

Life is but the whisper of death, in sleep we are merely participants of a new condition. 

To have loved and lost I know this, there is no greater torment than to love that which parishes.

Just as the last strokes of light were painting the sky you felt the cold hands of death embrace you at your shoulders. You opened your eyes quickly to find a young girl looking down at you in concern. Her wide blue eyes fringed by long lashes reminded you of a porcelain doll. The frigid bite of her fingers and her flawless features confirmed she was a ghost and one most likely buried here in St. Samael by the look of her outdated lilac petticoats. A giant bow rested at the back of her head, holding her raven hair away from her face as it cascaded over her shoulder. 

“I miss my parents too.” the girl said quietly.

“What’s your name? What’s keeping you from passing on and joining them.” You ask softly.

“My name is Callitae, and I stayed so that I could visit my father who still roams this earth visible to the living.”

“That’s not possible, if your father were still on earth he would be a ghost same as you.” You said in confusion.

“My father is very much dead but it is not his time to turn to dust either. However, the wheel of time seems to be running quickly for you, it comforts me to know that in your heart it is not death you fear but loneliness.” And with those bleak words she vanished into the mist of dusk.

You made your way along the path to your car, careful not to trip over rocks and the overgrowth of the untamed forest as all the while you felt the eyes of an unfamiliar presence upon you wolflike in its intensity. You moved a little faster and didn’t look back.

~ One Year Later ~

 Aldermire castle was at the very edge of Ampleforth, it was so named for its seemingly endless grounds of alder trees that swayed in honeyed light green shades against the sun. It was more of a manor than a castle but according to gossip that became legend, the man who once lived there with his wife and servants had the tastes and charisma of a king. He’d been a general during the battle of Cymadd with many honors to his name praising his valor and ferocity on the fields. This granted him favor in the eyes of many of the council but some were wary of him for he seemed to possess an almost inhuman tolerance for pain. 

He’d survived the torture masters of the enemy when he was captured and taken prisoner as none before him had. When he’d come back home to Aldermire and his wife he’d seemed like a living corpse. He recovered quickly under his wife’s care however, and by spring their first and last child was born for the mother died soon after. 

The master of Aldermire grew more reclusive in his grief and never took in visitors. He raised his daughter on his own but she was a delicate creature born before her time and prone to sickness easily. When she died of the plague that ravished Ampleforth faster than forest fire he lost the last anchor to life that he had and in his sorrow, it was said that he burned the castle locking himself inside as well. Even so, Aldermire was spared complete collapse as servants rushed to put out the flames but his body had never been found. 

As you drove past the alder trees and took in the overgrown vines that clung to the castle like the brambles of Thornfield Hall in Jane Eyre, a sense of excitement washed over you. You’d tried to catch glimpses of the castle before in your childhood but the forest had been so thick and the barbed wires attached to ‘no trespassing’ signs had looked so menacing you’d given up until that morning when Emma had called to say that “the creepy castle” you’d always wanted to explore as a child was now sold to the new dental surgeon in town who had renovated it as his clinic. 

It seemed the surgeon had appeared overnight, so quick were these renovations and appointments from patients in towns even farther than Lastshire but supposedly he’d been fixing the place a year in advance before ever stepping foot in Ampleforth. You supposed it was quite odd for a man of his profession to move so often but really what did you know of wealthy people and their judgment. 

The grounds were beautiful with crimson roses and golden apple trees. It was like something out of a fairytale when you pulled up at the driveway and walked up the stone path. You knocked on the heavy wooden door with its brass knocker, your heart racing all the while as you tidied your appearance and took in the words in bronze lettering in Latin above the door that read: VENI, VIDI, VICI. I came, I saw, I conquered.  An intriguing surgeon indeed.

A  middle-aged woman opened the door with a smile, her red heels and black mini skirt made you feel a bit self-conscious in your jean shorts and white blouse as you followed the sway of her hips inside. You noticed the white gauze bandage at her neck and wondered at if for a moment before turning your attention to the interior of Aldermire. 

 You were happy to see that though the new owner had renovated the castle for a clinic he seemed to want to keep the atmosphere of what the estate might have been like before. While some rooms had been entirely rebuilt to resemble a white-walled art studio, others seemed untouched by time and filled with bookshelves, upholstered chairs, and artwork against the old stone walls. 

You stopped in the hall to look at the paintings. All of them were memento mori’s displaying the reminder of mortality in its depictions of flower-filled vases, candles, fruits, and skulls. 

You peeked into room after room till you came to one with a small shooting range. The door was wide open as all the others had been. It seemed the owner loved showing his collections to the public though you felt that this room should surely be locked. Guns lined the far wall along with other combat gear. Well, at least the weapons seemed secure behind the glass cases. 

“The master of the house is an excellent hunter,” The receptionist said, turning to look at you. “I do believe it is one of his favorite hobbies.” You nodded, taking one last look at the room before continuing to follow her down the hall to yet another room with stark white walls.

“You may wait in this room,” the receptionist said with another bright smile as she motioned you forward into what looked like a surgical lounge chair with mirrors facing you on all sides. Before you could protest that you weren't planning on having any teeth extracted she was out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. 

The room was far too cold. You shiver under the thin material of your blouse as you take in the smell of cleaning chemicals and fruity furniture spray. Your spine tingles at the waft of air that assaults you from the vent above your head, the metal chair you are seated in presses against the back of your thighs like ice. 

 Along the walls of the room were bookcases, carefully filed papers, a small world globe, and to your trepidation an entire metal table covered in a white cloth that was filled with instruments. Some of which you wondered if they really were for teeth or something else entirely. Your stomach twisted with apprehension as you took in the empty syringes but before you could make your way to the door you heard footsteps approaching and you quickly sat down again.  

The door rattled open and you shifted your attention to the man who walked in. To your amazement, he was younger than you imagined. He in his mid-twenties maybe. He was very attractive which was not to be taken lightly in your mind for you had seen a great deal of beautiful spirits and judging by the way he held himself with such confidence in his stride he full well knew it too. 

If you’d seen him anywhere else you would imagine he was a model or singer instead of a dental surgeon. He was dressed in the most strikingly bright red suit you had ever seen and his blond hair was combed back revealing his forehead in a contradictingly neat but disheveled manner as if he had just run his hand through it before walking in.

 “Hello, are you Dr. Lee?” You said. 

His smile was bright enough to be plastered on every teeth-whitening poster in the lobby. “Please call me Taemin,” he said with a pronounced accent. You remember reading that he had transferred ownership of his successful clinic in South Korea to travel abroad setting up clinics from state to state and renting out large houses. Again you wondered why a surgeon as successful as he would travel so much. But then maybe he just liked the change of scenery. Certainly if you had the opportunity to see the world you would take it. Your brain was trying to piece the whole thing together rationally but under his very direct gaze, you felt exposed and flustered as you never had before. 

“What is your name?” He asked as he went to a drawer at the side of the chair and pulled out a white apron that fastened at the hips. His leg brushed yours as he closed the drawer and you shifted in your seat. His proximity making you nervous and excited even. The way his familiar blue eyes seemed to pierce you as he asked such an ordinary question made you wonder if what he really asked for was so much more. Where had you seen eyes like his before? You felt a bit lightheaded the more you tried to remember. 

At this moment you believed that if this total stranger asked anything of you, you’d give in without hesitation. There was something captivating about his aura, possessive even. For the first time in your life, you found yourself enjoying the feeling of being so inexorably won over, it was more than a little intoxicating. 

You mumbled your name aloud, thankful that your voice didn’t shake.

Taemin proceeded to put on elbow-length black gloves made of soft glittering velvet. Definitely not something anyone would want to use on a patient, you thought. They were more fit for a goth cinderella at a Halloween mask ball than anything else. This image would have made you laugh if it wasn’t for the fact that he looked so damn sexy putting them on. He held one of the gloves between his teeth as he pulled the fabric slowly up his arm.

When he finished he came so close to your ear you could smell his cologne full of spice and gardenias as he whispered, “I think you know I’m not the kind of dentist you’re used to” his hot breath against your earlobe and his words made your heart race and your legs squeeze together. Your curiosity overriding your fear as you answered,

 “I’m more than okay with that.”

He pulled back and smiled warmly, seemingly satisfied by this answer. He brought his gloved fingertip to your collarbone and moved his hand slowly till his fingers clasped your chin pulling it up to look at him. His eyes changed from blue to crimson and before you could fully process the fact that yet another one of your lovers was undoubtedly inhuman, his plump lips were at your neck kissing a trail down your chest as he effortlessly unbuttoned your blouse and unpinned your bra, throwing each to the floor. 

Your entire body was on fire now and he hadn’t even begun. You felt your body arch into his kisses on your skin and you gasped as you looked down to see him unzipping your jeans with his teeth. He pulled the material past your ankles and tossed them aside as well.

His gloved hands spread your knees apart as if you were a book he so desperately wanted to read. His lips moved to the inside of your thighs, nipping at your skin lightly as he went and purposely skipping over where you craved him the most. It was torturous till he blew on your already embarrassingly wet underwear, sending a shiver through you. 

“You have no self-control,” He said with amusement. “We can change that,” he lifted your hips and removed the last article of clothing before kneeling before you. And then he was painting butterflies against you with every skillful stroke of his tongue. Your small whimpers escalated to moans as you disheveled his hair further. 

“You want it more, don’t you?” Taemin said, pulling away and licking his lips. “And you’ll always be left wanting more, thirsting for more of me.”

“Yes, I do want you,” you said boldly surprised by your own shameless actions as you pulled him closer. 

  “My patients are usually so boring,” he said with a devilish laugh. Handsome devil. You thought as he continued. “Usually a syringe of blood is all I take and I tidy their minds so that they forget any unpleasant feelings but with you, no. Compulsion is not necessary, I want you to savor every moment till you fall for me without limit, beyond all instinct or reasoning just as I have fallen for you.”

 He moves to your neck again and this time you could feel sharp teeth graze your skin. He gripped your shoulders before piercing your flesh with his fangs. Your initial gasp of pain soon turns to pleasure as he drinks heavily from you. In a world overrun by ghosts why did the existence of vampires surprise you? You gazed into the mirrors that surrounded you and watched as blood trickled across your skin. Taemin’s reflection was nowhere to be seen, light seeped through him as if he wasn’t there at all.  An airy groan escapes you again when he pulls your hair back to allow better access to your neck. 

You move from the chair to stand and raise one leg to his hip. He loosens his grip on your hair then, taking you by the waist and lifting you effortlessly,  mounting you against him. “What sweet forbidden fruit you are.” He says as he licks the droplets of blood left on your neck and circles the two small punctures with his tongue so harshly you’re sure it will bruise. 

“I’m all you will see now, I’m your new world,” Taemin said before sealing that promise with a kiss. His lips claim yours hungrily and you responded just as fiercely, your tongue probing his in a battle for dominance as you moved against him. The taste of him and the mingling coppery trace of your blood made you realize you’d been starving and only he could satiate you now.

He carried you across the room, opening a door in the back that led to what must have been his bedroom. He gently set you on the floor and you took in the room. It was dimly lit with beautiful candelabras, an armour, and several paintings. The bed with its intricately carved mahogany headboard and satin white sheets was at the center. 

“Get on the bed, love.” He says as he moves towards the corner of the room.

You do so nervously, laying back against the pillows and watching Taemin open a cage. Your eyes widen as black snakes slither free. They seemed to stop and look to him for guidance and Taemin looked them in the eye and said, “be gentle with our new pet.” 

Your heart beats wildly as the snakes come toward you but you dare not move. This was some sort of test you knew and even though a small part of you wanted to bolt, a larger, more insistent thrum of curiosity and anticipation overwhelmed you. The snakes were each quite beautiful in the way that some lovely things are terrifying. Their glossy scales shone under the candlelight as two furled around your ankles and two more held your wrists bound against the bedposts. They were long enough that their bodies circled the posts several times. Their pink forked-tongues seemed to taunt you as they watched you squirm. Another glided up your stomach and between your breasts only to coil itself around your neck and fall asleep against the warmth of your skin. 

“You are a prisoner to it all now, my love,” Taemin said as he removed his right glove with his teeth and slipped two fingers inside you. You engulfed him greedily, blissfully surrendering to the slow movements of his fingers and the way you lost control of your hips as you writhed against your restraints. “You’re a prisoner to this heat, to my touch, and to my voice.” He said in a singsong that encompassed your senses. 

“I’ll tease you slowly,” Taemin said as his gloved hand rubbed circles against you, the velvety fabric sending shockwaves coursing through your body to the tips of your toes as they curled. “-Until the only name you taste against that pretty little mouth of yours is mine.” Your shuddering climax is met with erratic breaths as you will yourself not to beg for more. Here you were bare and shaking sweatily before him as he stood, still fully clothed and collected looking down on you with that deceitfully cherubic face. It sent daggers to your pride and yet how willingly you accepted your fate. 

Sensing your thoughts he began to undress as calmly and languorously as he did everything else. He seemed to take delight in the show he was putting on for you. His eyes glowed with mischief as he undid the last button of his suit and you found yourself unable to look away. He was muscular yet grace filled his form. He was a walking paradox, lithe and powerful all at once.

“My very existence is a sin,” Taemin said as he climbed onto the bed. “An unholy predator whose thirst will never be satisfied. And you love, are my prey.” 

He kissed you again and suddenly you found that the world was no longer monochrome but dripping with color. You felt alive as you never had before. The grey world died as his naked body danced with your naked soul and you felt as if you were drenched in light. Vulnerable yet safe, adrift in a pure deep sea. You wanted to drown in this time with him, you crashed into one another as waves on a moon-white shore. 

You want to trace the valley of his arms, you want to touch him though you can’t reach him. That is when you feel the snakes release you. You embrace him fully and in this moment, words aren’t necessary. 

You surfaced breathless and entranced as you took in his eyes again, they melted into deep blue once more. Your hearts beat to the same rhythm as Taemin moved to lay beside you. It was at that moment as he held you in his arms that your memory resurfaced, his eyes were the same as the raven-haired girl’s in the graveyard you’d seen a year before. She had her father’s eyes you realized.

He seemed to read the question in your eyes for he said, “Yes, Callie is my daughter. She was born here and she died here within these walls just as her mother did. It was my fault she died.” He said, shaking his head. “My wife couldn't bear to see me suffer, when the enemy commander turned me into a monster I turned against them and after that massacre I refused to follow my new instincts and feed. I was stubborn and prideful and when I came back to her arms I was weak. She gave me her blood without care for herself and like a beast, I drained her slowly and gave in to what we wanted most: a child. She couldn’t have known how baring a Child of Night would cause her to suffer but I should have known better. If I hadn’t weakened her so, if-”

“Shhh,” You drew your fingers to his lips to silence him and pulled him to your breast, wrapping your arms around him firmly. “She loved you and she did what she wanted to do for you and for her beautiful daughter. I know that she wouldn’t have wanted anything more than to have her no matter the consequence.” 

He took your wrist and brought it to his lips, then he traced your blue veins with the pad of his thumb before he said, “I knew from the moment I beheld you laying in the graveyard under that brilliant amber sunset that your soul was seeking mine. I pursued you shamelessly afterward as if you were tethered to me and I couldn’t let you go. You haunted my thoughts and made me care as I never thought I could again. It is a lie that the Children of Night are soulless and heartless, ours are bound to this earth as much as any mortal and they burn just as brightly.”

You entwined your fingers with his. 

“In your eyes I saw that we both shared the same spirit.” Taemin said brushing a kiss to your forehead. “We both fear being trapped but most of all we fear the way we isolate ourselves, there is no life, no death for us but rather a long and lonely road filled with people who see straight through us.”

“I know what you mean,” You said. “We are alone in ways no one else can begin to understand and yet I want to know you better than I know myself.”

“I never want to lose the one I love ever again,” Taemin said earnestly, he took your hands in his and squeezed them. “Would you spend forever with me till the earth itself crumbles with the weight of falling stars? Would you give me your soul to hold as my equal? All that I ask of you is to love me, respect me, obey me and I will be your slave for all of eternity.” 

“Then I am yours completely, in heart, body, and soul, I am yours just as you are mine.” You said. 

“It won't be painless,” He said with worry written in his eyes.

“Death is earned is it not?” You said, looking at him confidently. “I trust you.” You said more quietly.

“You scare me a great deal.” He said. You laughed at that, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

“Why?” You asked.

“Because you make me want to be a better man. My love, I am no angel. I am devious.” He ran his free palm against your cheek and you leaned into his touch. “My hands are stained from murder, and yet you trust them completely. I am selfish to want you and cruel to take you into darkness with me. I am a demanding creature but I am your servant.”

He took off one of his rings and slipped it onto your finger. It was gold inlaid with sapphire jewels the color of his eyes in the shape of a laurel crest. “This will protect you from the sunlight once the transition is completed.” Taemin said, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles and over the ring. “Never take it off, promise me.” 

“I promise.”

He brought his right hand to his mouth, his fangs elongated once more as they had when he’d feed on you and in one swift motion he pierced his wrist. His deep purple-red blood spilled like wine across the sheets. He took the blood into his mouth before bringing his lips to yours. 

His blood scorched the walls of your throat and trickled at the corner of your mouth. It singed the skin of your heart till you felt so full of him that you didn’t know whose body belonged to whom anymore. It was a dizzying kind of love, hypnotic and consuming in its luster. Sometimes love is sweet, You thought. You were drunk on this emotion and the taste of him. He was under your skin, he was flowing through your veins.

He licked the blood that had dripped at the corner of your mouth clean and pulled away to look at you. “Until we meet again, love.” Taemin said, before placing a satin covered pillow over your face.

Sometimes love is brutally soft. You thought as you lost consciousness. 

~ Epilogue ~

His scent tickles your nose and calls your limbs to arise from the ashes of your former self. 

“Welcome to hell my queen.” 

The voice in the darkness was sweet to hear. Your eyes open, light purple and full of lethal newborn lust for the blood of your sire, your soulmate, your king who smiles above you.

The impulse to feed is like a maelstrom consuming your senses. All you want is him, his blood, and his body against yours. He lays on the bed beside you and tilts his head in invitation. 

You crawl towards him, straddling his hips and piercing your fangs to his throat eagerly. You nibble and mewl against his collarbone when his skin does not break beneath you. He laughs at your frustration and gently strokes your hair. He reaches for your chin, lifting it to eye level and brushing the pad of his fingers against your small fangs till the tiniest drops of blood fall and you lick his fingers clean. 

“You're like a newborn kitten,” Taemin says in your mind. His voice inside your head sends a ripple of joy through your body. You'd thought you’d learned what true unity felt like but you’d never experienced this, an all-consuming warmth and wholeness. “Try again innocent one, this time tilt your head upwards as you elongate your fangs.” 

Your desire to please him was almost as vigorous as your hunger. You moved to his neck again and did as he instructed. 

“That’s my kitten,” he said. You beam under his praise as you quench your thirst. You find it’s not enough and you move to his lips instead. You kissed him like nightfall devouring the sun, an eclipse under a diamond sky. You were dangerous now you thought with glee as Taemin pulled you closer, closer towards the whisper of forever. And then you smiled when he said in your mind, When we align, will you or I be the moon? You bit his bottom lip and tugged it playfully in reply. 

#taemin smut #taemin fanfic #taemin senarios #SHINee FanFic #taemin #lee taemin #want #vampire au #my writing #kpop fanfic #fanfiction #homme fatale #dentist au #shinee senarios

[itcertainlyisl-n-h]

Just Plain Nuts...Part 2

She came trouncing out of the house onto the back porch...frying pan still in hand.  She was drunk.  She was always drunk.  Well then so was he.  He looked up from what he was doing...lost in a haze...lost in a daze...snapping himself out of some wild fantasy...some dark and scary place that his mind had gone to.  He had reached the final straw. The one that broke the camel’s back as it were.  He laughed...giddily actually.  It wasn’t a resigned laugh...it wasn’t a true laugh...it was actually one of his patented, couldn’t stop himself guffaws as he forcefully shoved the shovel into the pliant earth once more and tossed the mound of dirt to the side.  

He barely recognized her.  Her eyes filled with malice, scorn and madness...he had only met one other character like her before...in his mind...He had read the novel Jane Eyre countless times.  It was one of his favorite books to go to when he wanted to escape.  Sure it seemed more like a romance novel for lonely housewives...but then that’s what he felt like from time to time.  In it, the lord and master of the house, Edward Rochester had wanted to marry the governess of his ward, Jane Eyre but he had a terrible secret he was hiding.  His own wife locked up in the attic.  She was a lunatic and was forced on him through an arranged marriage. Rochester had wanted something pure...something wholesome...someone who loved him and he loved back with all of his heart...and that was Jane...not...Bertha Mason...Not the woman standing in front of him now.  

“Stanley....Stanley what are you doing there??!!”  She shouted at him angrily.  Her hand...permanently on her hip the other grasping the frying pan tightly.  She wasn’t afraid to use it again if he came close to her.  If he tried to touch her once more.  She was afraid of him.  She didn’t like it when he got that look in his eye...the one he was leveling her with now.  When they drank...things got unpredictably predictable, very fast.  Things got thrown. Things got broke.  Police were often called.  The cycle never ended.  She would scream at him...accuse him...call him every name she could think of and the minute he tried to defend himself in anyway she would flip on a dime, becoming hysterical, dramatical and the waterworks would flow.  She would lay the guilt on him so thickly he would run to her side, begging her to forgive him, promising he’d never leave her...he would always love her and that he would take care of her.  

She had a power over him that no other woman had.  She had him around her proverbial finger and he was, as always, helpless and too vulnerable to do anything about it.  This again was one of those times.  

He didn’t answer her and just kept staring at her as if he had just seen her for the first time in his life.  That his eyes were opened.  That he no longer saw the person he fell in love with.  That he no longer saw the person that he gave up Ruth for...that he ran away with...that he had often vowed she was “To his heart”  and that she was his baby...his sweetheart...he didn’t recognize her anymore. 

Panic was in her voice as she rushed down the stairs and into the yard.  He had been pulling up trees, chopping at bushes...basically turning his backyard into a scene right from “Big Business” When he and Babe completely obliterated Finn’s house...he actually smirked at the memory.  Illiana surveyed the damage to her roses...to her shade trees to her backyard sanctuary where she had spent a lot of her days lounging in celebrity luxury.  She took in the large gaping hole right in the middle of the yard, growing ever larger as Stan continued to attack it further with vicious stabs and grunts.  

“Stanley!!”  She yelled again... “Durak neschastnyi...Balvan!!” 

He paused.  Turning slowly he leveled her with his coldest look.  Today he knew would be his last on earth...if he had a say in it.  He had never felt the knot of burning anger...twisting and writhing inside of him.  The very core of his being loathed her at that moment...and couldn’t and didn’t want to stop himself.  He wanted it to be over.  He grit his teeth and bit his lip so hard it bled...She saw the monster in his eyes then.  The one she had been fearing all along.  

“Poshyel k chyertu...”  

“Why are you digging that hole...to get there?” She screeched at him.  Her voice trembling but deep down knowing the answer.  

“To bury you in, Shuvalova.”

..................

Oliver Hardy stepped quietly into the trailer that he and his partner Stan Laurel shared at the Hal Roach Studios.  He didn’t want to startle the man he knew was so easily rattled, more so than usual these days.  He sighed as he looked at his partner and friend of over thirteen years scribbling furiously on some papers and only pausing to clack away at his ever present typewriter.  By now he knew how to read the man better than he did himself.  He knew something was terribly wrong.  It had been wrong for a few months now.  He wasn’t going to let it go on much longer.  He knew when it was right to speak to Stan and he felt the time for a real heart to heart was coming to a head.  He remembered the time before.  The last time.  And the time before that.  Enough was enough.   

He had escorted Stan from the jail that night.  He looked pitiful...sad...scared...alone.  He knew he didn’t want to talk about it by the way he held his head when Ollie walked into the jailhouse.  He didn’t want to bring any further indignity to him.  He saw that he was only clad in boxers and an old army blanket that looked like a remnant from the first world war. If there was a camera he would have looked at it before going over to the dejected man and putting a hand on his shoulder.  They didn’t speak.  He cleared up the matter of getting Stan out of jail so that he wouldn’t have to spend the night there.  He made sure that one of Illiana’s friends was called and that she would come to collect her and take her back to their home and stay with her for a while.  Stan tried to protest but Ollie insisted that it was best for them if they were apart for now and that Stan stay with him until this all blew over.  

The ride to Ollie’s house was quiet.  Stan looked at him from time to time as the cab driver took them through the dark streets...dawn just creeping up over the Hollywood sign in the distance.  He reached out and put his hand over Babe’s covering it in a warm gesture and in that way, thanked him.  Ollie knew that was his way and nodded his head.  They were both tired to the bone.  They knew they were to start filming their new picture “Blockheads” soon and it was time to straighten up and fly right again.  Time to make more magic.  Ollie looked at Stan and saw that a lot of the magic had left his eyes.  He didn’t want to know the light that was replacing it now.  He was concerned but he would let Stan tell him...like always.  

They reached Oliver’s home and paid the driver.  Stan leaned into Ollie’s shoulder suddenly exhausted and barely able to stand.  He whimpered softly and Ollie finally put his arm around him.  He held him steady as they moved toward his front door.  

“She’s just so mean, Babe...” 

“I know, Stan...I know.” 

“I love her.”

“I know you do, Stanley...you’re a man consumed with it...always.” 

He lead Stan into the house and down the hall to the guest room, well really Stan and Lois’s room when they came to visit on the odd occasion.  Lois more often than not...she liked staying at Uncle Babe’s house.  

He pulled back the covers against the protests of not being tired, and that he needed a drink to take the edge off and the refusal of said drink and the struggling to get into some of his spare pajamas that he kept in the dresser drawer and the struggle of even more refusing to cooperate, Oliver finally got Stan to lie down and on his side to sleep. 

“Sleep with me, Babe...” 

“Stan.”

“You know what I mean...I don’t want to be alone.” 

“But you know what it leads to...what it always does.” 

“Is that wrong?”

“With my wife in the other room...yes.” 

A resigned sigh with only the slightest tinge of old jealousy. “Then just sleep...please.” 

Lord help him he knew better.  He knew better every time...but he could still never resist him.  Even now at 4:30 in the morning on some random night...after checking on his wife...seeing her sound asleep...he carefully climbed in on his side of the bed and wrapped his arms around his now snoring houseguest.  He pulled him closer to his chest and allowed himself to breathe in the intoxicating scent of Stan Laurel...all of him...as he turned out the light, pulling the covers over them.  There would be time to figure things out...tomorrow. 

Part 3 to come!

#laurel and hardy #stan laurel #oliver hardy #fanfiction

[belladonnaandulriched]

the dead of night | chapter five

Scott's point of view

I watched Kristina return to her seat next to me with her long platinum blonde hair drifting behind her head. Her eyes scanned over me as if she was waiting for me to say something to her. She had a glimmer in her eyes like she had just witnessed something or other.

“What?” I asked her.

“Nothing.”

She shook her head, but I knew there was something on her mind, though. She had seen something back there near the bathrooms. Nancy followed suit into the seat across from her. I glanced over at Geddy, who shrugged his shoulders at me. There was a part of me that wanted to touch and run my hands down the smoothest parts of his hair, right on top of his head.

To think that Frankie and I were alone with him for a little bit. It was just a few minutes but it was enough for the both of us to forget about everything for a little bit.

I turned back to Kristina, who showed me a grin, the first time I had seen her grin in forever and a day.

“You saw something back there, didn't you,” Frankie teased her.

“Maybe.”

Nancy slid back into the seat next to Geddy with a warm blush upon her face. From behind those glasses, I noticed a baffled look in his eye.

“What?” she asked him.

“Is everything alright?” he asked her.

“Yeah.”

“You sure? Your face is flushed and you're breathing hard.”

Joey and Hannah breezed back into the room right then: he had a smirk on his face while she smelled of strawberries and her face was bright pink like a single strawberry.

“What the hell is going here,” I demanded.

“It's not what it looks like,” Hannah assured me.

“I'm pretty sure it is,” I teased her.

“It's not,” Joey joined in, still with a smirk on his face.

“It's NOT, you mean,” I teased him with a wag of my finger, and I couldn't resist the smirk on my face, either.

“Yeah, it's NOT. A big ol' thick NOT.”

“It's a big ol' thick 'not' like your dick,” Hannah murmured as she brought her cup of coffee to her lips.

“Not here!” Joey scoffed in a hushed voice.

I cleared my throat and returned to Geddy.

“So what we were talkin' about earlier?” I asked him in a loud voice.

“Oh, you mean going up to retrace dear Francine's steps?” he asked me back, also in a loud voice.

“Yeah...” I turned my head to Joey and Hannah, both of whom had picked up their cups of coffee for drinks on their parts.

“Which means we'll have to head on up to Rochester,” Frankie followed along; his expression turned solemn right then.

“Rochester and then to 'Swaygo and Syracuse,” Joey filled in right then as he held his coffee cup before his chest.

“Seems like a lot,” Kristina remarked.

“We've been around a lot of places upstate and here in the City,” Hannah pointed out. “I'm sure the cops have the City covered, though.”

“And then?” Nancy asked.

“And then?” Hannah echoed.

“We'll have to go up to Toronto then,” Geddy suggested.

“We'll have to,” Hannah pointed out. “There's no other way otherwise.”

Geddy raised his glass such that the overhead lights hit the dark cola in the glass to make it look bright red.

“To Francine,” he declared.

“To Francine,” the each of us followed suit, and we took a drink in unison. It seemed like a lot but we each had come to this point in time for a reason. For me, it was to reconnect with Kristina in the time she had left. I had to make it right before she tied the noose around her neck in the next decade.

“I caught Joey and Hannah making out in the bathroom,” Nancy blurted out, to which Frankie almost gagged on his drink.

“Nancy!” Geddy scoffed.

“What? I did! Kristina did, too.”

“I was just going to use the ladies' room,” Kristina filled in, “I didn't even see them 'til I was washing my hands and Hannah was making little whimpery noises.”

“Gonna need some water over here!” Joey called out to the waitress.

After our bite to eat, we all filed out into the cold afternoon. I huddled closer to Kristina and that big guitar case on her back. It almost seemed unnecessary to be near her, especially since we were all here to seek out Francine. And yet, Frankie and I came back to reconnect. Reconnect before the sands in the hourglass ran out.

“So where do you hope you'll record at?” I asked her over the rush of the cold winds.

“Electric Lady of course,” she answered: even though it was overcast, the daylight shone over that crown of blonde hair to make it appear as though it was made of silver. Bright head of silver with smokey dark eyes. She adjusted the strap on her shoulder to make the case stay on her back.

“I hope I can find an opening soon,” I told her. “And I hope we can find an opening to listen in, too. I'd love to listen to you record a record.”

I returned to Nancy and Geddy, both of whom were huddled close together against the winds.

“I hope the Mounties don't stop us when we're up there,” she confessed to him.

“They won't, my dear,” he vowed to her. “As long as you have proof and you have a way into there, you can traverse about all over the place.”

“We've got an actual Canadian with us, too,” I joined in.

“You've got a Canadian with you, too!” he said with a tone of glee.

“We'll stop by that li'l upholstery place, too,” Joey pointed out. “Say how ya doin' to Marcia and Sonia and see if they can give us some clothes if we wanna.”

“You just want to see Hannah try on some clothes,” Kristina cracked.

“Well, I won't deny it,” he said with a shrug and a tucking of his hands into his coat pockets. He then peered up to the sky overhead. I followed his gaze to a series of drones, pitch dark against the light gray sky. Even from far down below, I could make out the sight of the green and blue neon on their undersides.

I turned my head to Kristina, as she set her guitar case on the sidewalk. She opened the case and took out her guitar, a bright cherry red acoustic with a narrow black neck and a white star painted on the end of the body.

“Beauty!” Geddy declared.

“I named her Cherise,” Kristina said with a twinkle in her eye. She held her hand over the strings and strummed with her thumb and her index finger. It took me a second to realize what she was playing, to which the memory came flooding back to me.

“'Planet Caravan,'” I said, and I couldn't help but smirk.

“We're just missing some snow,” she replied with a raise of her eyebrow. She never actually broke out into singing but she did play that hypnotic riff that haunted me since I was a kid.

The perfect song to go finding a girl missing in Canada to no less.

I peered up at the drones in the sky again, and then I caught sight of a smooth white humanlike head near the top of the apartment building. I was wondering where all the humans here had disappeared to, because aside from the waitress, the few patrons, and the line cook there in the cafe, the city streets seemed far more deserted than ever before. It almost felt like a dream to be on an otherwise crowded city street, only to find everyone had all but vanished.

As Kristina let the music drift over the street and the sidewalk, I glanced down the street to a few more drones appearing out from behind the apartment complexes.

“Makes me wish we had Lars and his little radar detector again,” Joey muttered under his breath.

“I really hope she's alright,” Frankie whispered to me.

“We'll find her, man,” I promised him, even though I had no idea as to where to look from that point onward. “I have hope that we will.”

All I knew was we had to find our way out of that part of the city and get on upstate. But then there was Kristina, who continued to strum and play to that familiar song. I missed Pearl but there was something about her I had missed. She was the first girl I ever fell in love with and then much like Joey and Hannah, we were separated by circumstance.

It was now or never at that point. Balance out finding Francine with reconnecting with Kristina.

“Where do you live now?” I asked her. She kept strumming but she looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“Boston,” she replied.

“All the way over in beautiful Bahstahn,” Frankie cracked.

“Bahstahn, exactly!” Kristina laughed. “It's a little out of the way, though, if you guys wanna come swing by at some point.”

“Makes me wish we had Lars and that arrowhead of his,” Joey spoke again.

“Wait a minute, don't you have that?” Hannah asked him.

“The arrowhead?” Joey hesitated for a second and then he patted down the front of his coat. He slipped one hand down into his right pocket and took out a stone arrowhead about the size of a silver dollar.

“Don't think there's a wormhole from Syracuse to Boston, but you can make one with this li'l thing here, Scott,” he explained. “Just—be really careful, though, 'cause ghosts and other scary ass things can go through 'em.”

“Ghosts?” Frankie sputtered.

“Ghosts, yeah.”

“How can I forget 'Vera',” Hannah grumbled.

“Forget Vera for a second, what about Mrs. Snow?” Joey recalled. “She tried to whack my dick off after she caught us in bed together.”

“I liked the old man, though,” she continued. “What was his name?”

“Mr. Lang. He gives me apples all the time.”

“There are also mutant banana slugs down in New Orleans and big ass spiders in both Syracuse and Rochester,” Nancy chimed in. “'Syracuse spiders' as Marcia and Sonia call them.”

“And water snakes and scorpions up on the Canadian side of the Great Lakes, too,” Geddy added.

“And all of those and more over in Seattle, too,” Nancy continued, “as poor Dominique will tell you...”

“You sure they're scorpions and not vinegaroons, Ged?” Hannah asked him.

“They're definitely scorpions. Great Lake Emperors, they're called. And yes, they are as every bit of terrifying as you can possibly imagine because unlike actual emperors, they're actually quite aggressive. I think there are vinegaroons up there but I haven't seen any. I don't think Alex and Neil have, either.”

What a world I came into! I turned back to Kristina as Joey dropped the arrowhead into my palm.

“You better not have weird creatures over in Boston,” I told her.

“Giant seabirds, but otherwise, not really.”

“How giant are we talkin'?”

“Giant enough to take a whole loaf of bread from you, but they're not like—giant aggressive scorpions, though. They're quite lovely, actually.” She continued to strum her guitar, to which I took another look up to the drones in the sky. The green and blue neon waxed and waned with the gray clouds overhead, and I wondered if there were any more around there. I didn't want to leave Kristina there in the City by her lonesome, especially since I had no idea where she even parked.

“So, shall we get a move on, eh?” I suggested in a slight fake Canadian accent.

“Get a move on, eh,” Geddy scoffed with a smirk. “Take off, ya hoser.”

#the dead of night #the dead of night fanfic #the dead trilogy #now it's dark #fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax fanfic #classic rock fanfic #anthrax #classic rock #scott ian #scott ian x oc #frank bello #joey belladonna #joey belladonna x oc #chapter 5 #sci fi #sci fi writing #fan writing #writing #also on ao3 #text #rush #rush band #geddy lee

[deniigi]

Trope: Homeless Peter

Title: what is home if not a vehicle

Summary: Space-fish attack the Great State of New York, and in the mess, the Avengers lose the goddamn kid.

------------

His knees shook when he finally peeled back the helmet and it was a monumental task—the towering, marble kind—to lift one foot and then the other out of the footwell of the suit stand.

But Tony managed it.

You know, like a fuckin’ superhero.

He had this.

He maybe had a head injury and couldn’t see through all the blood dripping down his right eye—but you know what?

A fuckin’ superhero.

That’s me.

Ahahaha—

“TONY.”

Why hello, adoring fan. What a coincidence to meet you on the floor like this.

“What are you doing?”

Having a little lay down, my dear.

“GET UP.”

Wow, that’s a tone to take with a guy who volunteered to be the can in a state-wide Alien Kick-the-Can tournament. A little appreciation would be nice.

“Tony,” Pepper emphasized. “You need to get up.”

Why? Was there another alien? Tony was having a merry time here on the floor. Only more superheroing could move him, and even that was on thin ice given the whole knobbly-knee, shaky-hands situation.

“Peter’s gone.”

Tony’s head shot up.

“He’s not gone,” he said. “He’s with Falcon.”

Pepper’s eyes were very blue and ringed by white on every side.

“No,” she said. “He’s gone. Get. Up.”

 --

Pepper’s hands came around and grabbed his face before he could get another good smash in for it on the desk in front of him.

May Parker was in tears. She had every right to be. Cap was consoling her, promising her that they would find Peter while she fanned her dripping mascara.

And Tony?

Tony was exhausted. And now he had that weird gut-gnawing, gurgling feeling in his stomach, which, combined with the head injury that he was turning slowly into an actual hole straight to his brain (if Pepper would let go, anyways), was paving the way for a future spent at the foot of the porcelain altar.

The kid. Had been. RIGHT. There.

Rhodey had confirmed this. He’d been RIGHT there. Tony had been keeping an eye on him and all that bouncy puppy energy. And when he could no longer do that (see: volunteering to be bait, also known as An Activity Not Appropriate for Minors to Witness), he’d handed him off to Sam.

He’d handed him off to Sam.

Sam was the second most level-headed person on the entire team. Rhodey was the first, and okay, he was mostly first because Tony was biased towards his best friend, but the point remained.

Sam had had the baby.

Sam said that he had had the baby, too. Until he couldn’t have the baby because A) the baby was very slippery and B) the baby apparently smelled like food to giant alien creatures with blue glowing tongues and drippy teeth, and so Sam had sent the baby far the fuck away from that action.

He’d told him to go give Bruce support in the north of the city.

Bruce had tears in his eyes when he said that he’d worked with Peter for a whole fifteen minutes before they’d gotten separated by a building collapsing nearly on top of them. The Hulk didn’t have time to babysit Spiders when that was happening. The Hulk just got angry and launched himself at the face of the fuckin’ space-kaiju that had caused it.

No one could fault him for this.

But that also meant that, two hours into a 48 hour melee, they’d lost the youngest team member.

May Parker was glued to her phone and the news, and Tony could hear the tinny voice of Peter’s voice message echoing out of her phone even from there, even through her hiccups and Steve’s soothing Captain America tones.

Steve said that Peter was a smart boy. He was a strong boy. He’d know that they were looking for him and he’d done way, way worse than two days of fighting before. He’d know when to find a safe place and stay put for long enough to regain his energy.

And more than that, he knew New York like the back of his hand. He’d come home, May.

He’d come home.

Tony was about to swear to this poor woman that he would personally deliver her child to her doorstep when the klaxons crashed through the building and sent Tony’s whole body into a state of temporary numbness with pain.

The room went red.

The room went red again

Everyone turned slowly towards the window and Tony barely saw Steve throwing up the shield and reaching for May Parker at the same time before he reacted.

Pepper went down under the desk.

The glass exploded.

And here we go again.

 ---

 Just for the record—just for the fucking record—Tony wanted it known that he hated Albany.

It was flat.

Its skyline was boring as hell.

And Tony was 99.9% sure that there a mass illness among the people of this city.

Rhodey informed him that he was only thinking that because his interactions with humanity at street level came from New Yorkers and Los Angeles folks, neither of whom could find it in their souls to give a shit about what other people shouted at them.

Rhodey further explained patiently that the reaction of most people in the continental US to a known superhero telling them to get the fuck out of the way was not, in fact, being told ‘no YOU move, motherfucker.’

Tony didn’t get it.

Steve laughed so hard he sort of collapsed onto Sam’s shoulder and started making this sound that reminded Tony of a sob.

They all needed sleep. It had been four days.

But then, like a champion of all 8-year-olds, a little girl piped up from somewhere in the crowd that had gathered around their Avengers team huddle, “Hey! Where’s Spiderman?”

And all bodies went from sobbing to swearing.

The damn kid.

 ---

 It had been a week. May Parker had filed Peter as missing. He still hadn’t come home and he wasn’t even close to getting home because Tony had just gotten a call from Wolver-fucking-ine himself asking if he knew Baby Webs.

“He downed a space-fish in Gloversville,” Wolverine said. “And Scott nearly swiped him up, but he ain’t moved fast enough, and Websy noticed him first. He went and hid in the sewer and kept hissing at us for hours. Tried to feed him, but he wants nothin’ to do with us.”

Peter.

Peter, no.

X-men are friends.

“Did you manage to grab him?” Tony asked, already resigned to the answer.

“He ran off.”

Fuck.

“Sorry about that.”

Fuck.

“He’s a bitty one, ain’t he?”

“He’s fifteen.”

“Jesus.”

“I know,” Tony said. “We’re trying to grab him. It’s been a week. His phone’s dead and his mom’s freaking out, and I swear, he’s never been that far out of a city.”

Wolverine made a contemplative sound.

“Alright, we’ll keep a better eye out,” he said. “He can’t have gone far. He ain’t swingin’ with that web shit.”

He must have run out of that, too.

Peter, honey. Just. Stand. Still.

Forget the space-fish. For like, two hours.

 ---

 May asked Pepper to ask Tony what felt like ages later if the X-men had any more information on her kid. Pepper said that she sounded defeated.

Tony wished that he had more to give her besides a handful of blood from the torn skin on his hip and the words that Scott Summers had passed along just the day previous.

“The kid followed the last fish out,” Summers said. “I’m sorry, Stark. I tried to nab him, but that thing was taking down trees and we all got buried.”

 ---

 Two weeks.

Two whole weeks the boy had been missing and only now were the space-fish starting to let up. Part of that had to do with the fact that Barton had figured out that if you went for the eyes, forsook any sense of self-preservation and decency, and climbed into the gaping hole you left there, you could smash the thing’s brain and take it down to earth like Cap nose-diving into the Atlantic.

Steve had passed through all the stages of grief into hysteria this last week.

No one could talk to him because he started laughing and then weeping in a span of 15 seconds.

Natasha and Sam were on it.

Barnes was out with Barton, laying waste to wading pool that was Rochester at the moment. And that finally gave Tony the time that he needed to go out and search for the kid.

Rhodey came with and they ended up in Horseheads of all places, asking people on the street if they’d seen a Spiderman approximately a half the size they expected him to be.

People in Horseheads said no, that was Buffalo that had had the Spiderchild flinging himself around in it.

So they headed for Buffalo, only to get a message halfway there from Barnes that he’d almost caught the little shit in Rochester. Barton was after him as they spoke.

On foot apparently.

“He looks like shit, Stark,” Barnes said, huffing while he ran. “Clint’s on his tail now though, but I think he thinks he’s in trouble, so he’s—WAIT NO. BARTON.”

And the line went off.

And Rhodey groaned for both of them.

 ----

 Rochester contained a very wet, very frustrated Hawkeye and zero Bucky Barneses.

Hawkeye said that they’d nearly had Peter. But then.

He gestured furiously out to the harbor which was full of wreckage from the ensuing battle on shore.

Tony asked him if they had it handled or if they needed backup, to which Hawkeye said that only God knew shit at this point. He was just a human football, being punted back and forth across the state of New York in a way that his soul truly deserved.

Barton perhaps needed both a nap and a meal or two in him.

Peter probably needed days of both of those things.

“Yeah, no. I asked around and people have seen him bopping around the pigeons and gulls,” Barton said. “Some lady told us that she saw him coming out of a park bathroom. Another gal said she saw him tucked up on a roof and lured him down. She said she thought he was some homeless teenager and was worried ‘cause he was up there without a coat. She was surprised as hell when he was the real thing and asked her for a map. Said his phone was busted and he was trying to find the train station.”

Kiddo.

“He’s makin’ it, Stark,” Barton said. “Not sure how. But he’s makin’ it.”

That wasn’t comforting.

 ---

 Chasing after Peter wasn’t working. He kept slipping through their fingers and getting startled by people chasing him.

He seemed a little paranoid. Although that was probably because folks had started to change tact and approach him out of their suits.

They’d skimmed right past the part where Peter didn’t really know most of them out of their suits. And then they’d skimmed right past the part where most of them, out of their suits, didn’t look anything like the pictures that the paps took of them.

JB’s hair was long as hell. Natasha wore little make up and didn’t both straightening her ginger mane. Sam’s fade was looking a little lopsided with the piece of glass that the docs had had to dig out of it, and so a hat was his primary mode of fashion at the moment. Steve’s out-of-suit fashion could be described as ‘Jock with Tats Wears Cardigan and Dock Martins. More at 11.’

They’d all gone too far into being people and Peter now thought that he was being pursued by undercover SHIELD agents.

And, like the genius child that he was, he’d realized that his reds were catching attention and, now that the space-fish were a less pressing issue, and now that he was up in colder climes, he’d swapped them for some street clothes. And now no one had seen Spiderman.

Including the other Avengers.

The fastest way to find him was through facial recognition software, but someone out there, infuriatingly, seemed to be teaching Peter how to live like this.

The features Tony put in everyone’s new chunky glasses only ever caught him just before he turned tail and started sprinting.

And goddamn, that kid was fast.

Tony himself had chased him through Nowheresville, Fuck This State, and even that seemed ineffective.

He didn’t understand.

Peter knew who he was. He knew his voice.

Right?

Why was he running? Why was he still running?

May thought that he must have gotten it into his head that everyone was furious with him. She said that Peter’s guilt complex was wide and deep and he often slunk home late and hid from her if he thought she was mad.

He wasn’t super great with confrontation outside of his red and blues.

But something was also going on with May. Tony wasn’t sure what it was until Barton came into his lab where Tony was bouncing between trying to find where Peter’s suit had last been and trying to pry the enormous scales off a space-fish head.

“Tony,” Barton said. “Mrs. Parker’s lost faith in us.”

Tony laid his head against the scaly mass in front of him and sighed.

“You know what? That’s fair,” he said.

If some of the world’s so-called finest couldn’t even catch a literal child after three weeks of trying, Tony would have said that they were a bunch of useless fucks, too.

“She came to me and asked me if I’d help her try something different,” Barton said. “So I’m gonna need you to trust me, man.”

Trust him?

Sure, why not?

At this point, nothing Tony or Rhodey or Natasha tried had worked. So why not Barton? He was the one who kept getting the closest to the kid.

He had his own little menace he was chasing around anyways. He knew this shit.

“Glad you think so,” Barton said. “But I need like, a written agreement that you ain’t gonna scream at me, okay?”

Written agreement. Pft. Okay.

 ---

 “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?”

Barton stared at Tony and pointed at Rhodey like a tattle-tell. Tony was exhausted.

“TONY.”

He was so tired, Rhodey.

“You cannot sanction this,” Rhodey said.

Tony wasn’t sanctioning anything. He was just letting the aunt take the reins.

“We are not sending the Punisher after a child,” Rhodey said.

“The jokes on you, bub,” Clint told him. “The Punisher is already keeping an eye out for the child and you know what? He’s got a bite.”

Silence flooded the meeting room. Sam Wilson turned around slowly in his chest and moved his icepack to the other hand.

“Say that again,” he said.

Barnes’s eyes went huge like a cat and Nat leaned her elbows onto his shoulders.

“I said,” Barton scoffed at them, “The Punisher’s still upstate. I sent him a text explaining shit. He’s got a soft spot for babies. You know, latent dad instincts and all that, and he’s been homeless for like, years now. So he said he’ll keep an eye out. He’s got an idea of a few places where kids around Peter’s age go when they’ve got nowhere else to.”

Tony stomped down on the urge to say that Peter wasn’t like those kids; he did have a place to go. He was just misunderstanding the situation. He was just fifteen and tired and not thinking logically. Translating people chasing him as anger instead of help.

Man, all those straight As really put that kid’s fear of abandonment into perspective now.

Tony didn’t even know how to approach him anymore.

He wasn’t a dad. No one on this team was a dad. They didn’t know how to talk to kids. Or if they did, not teenagers.

So you know what?

If the Punisher thought he could grab the kid, then he should.

 ----

 And the Punisher did.

Tony had never spoken directly to the man. The whole team went silent when Barton answered the call and then said, “hold on, let me put you on speaker.”

The Punisher’s voice was husky and hoarse with his whisper.

“Got him,” he said softly.

Tony covered his eyes in relief.

“He’s sleepin’,” The Punisher said. “Real adaptable. You weren’t kiddin’, Barton.”

“Thank god,” Steve said.

“He hurt?” Barton asked.

“Yeah,” the Punisher said. “He ain’t let me look ‘im over, but he’s got scabs all over. Cute kid. Once we were on the same page, he came willingly enough.”

What did that mean?

“Means I had to find some vegetarian shit from McDonalds,” the Punisher said like Tony was an idiot. “Kid’s hungry. Cold. Needs a bath. Found him tucked up with some others. They ain’t wanna come like him. But they’re good kids with good folks; they told him that if he had someone waiting on him, he should go.”

They’d done what?

The Punisher snorted.

“Homeless folks aren’t stupid, moneybags,” he said. “They got problems, but they aren’t stupid. And they ain’t want my help, so that’s that. You give ‘em some money and let ‘em do what they need to.”

What.

“I know, it’s almost like their lives ain’t your business,” the Punisher huffed.

He was kind of a dick.

“You headed back this way?” Barton asked.

“That’s a negative,” the Punisher said.

Rhodey went stiff.

“But don’t worry, I got someone to leave him with when I get to where I’m goin’,” the Punisher said. “He’ll bring him down your way.”

Barton sighed.

“Thanks, Frank,” he said. “We owe you one.”

“I don’t want your debt,” the Punisher said. He said nothing.

“I owe you one,” Barton corrected.

“Damn right, you do, Sparky.”

“Collect when you’re ready,” Barton said.

“Copy that.”

Barton hung up and stared with crystal eyes into Tony soul.

“Someone tell the kid’s aunt,” he said.

 ---

 The Punisher went up to Niagara Falls, whereupon he handed Peter off to Deadpool.

Tony almost had a stroke.

May Parker slapped a hand onto her chest and sighed in relief.

“Thank god,” she said.

Thank god?

More like, god have mercy, no?

“No, thank god,” May said.

May had Deadpool’s number in her goddamn phone. Tony was dumbfounded.

“Eyyyyyy,” Deadpool cheered when he answered May’s call. “Well, look who it is. Pete—heya babycakes, you—? Okay, no. Sorry, we had a big day at the falls. He’s tired.”

Deadpool cackled. May huffed out a chuckle and shook her head.

“Thank you, Wade,” she said tearfully. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Deadpool said cheerfully. “Little Scrappy’s just scrappier. He ain’t hurt bad. Just a little shaken. Got that good anxiety. Six kinds of paranoia, look at ‘im go. That’s healthy, that’s what that is.”

It was not, Mr. Pool.

“Who’s makin’ that racket in the background?” Deadpool asked.

May explained that she was in the company of the Avengers. She did not say that half of them were shocked stupid. She did not say that Rhodey was clawing his hands at the sky and lamenting a career in military service being useless compared to fuckin’ Deadpool’s sunny disposition.

“Ah,” Deadpool said. “Well, I’m just gonna not say shit to him about that.”

“That’s fine,” May said. “Tell him I love him and I’m not mad. I’ve just been worried. Where’s his phone?”

“Oh, honey. You should see it. Kid fished it out of the sea,” Deadpool said. “I found a fuckin’ barnacle in it. Pretty impressive how small them things get, you know what I mean?”

Somehow, May did. Even though Tony emphatically did not.

“How long?” she asked.

“Ehn. Well. I got a job . Then I’m meeting someone in Syracuse. But you know what’s good news?”

“What?” May asked.

“Red’s at a conference in Ithaca,” Deadpool said. “He said he can swipe Spiderkid up from the bus station.”

Red?

Who was Red?

“You serious right now, DP?” Barnes asked.

“Ohhhh, why hello there, Winter. Didn’t see you there,” Deadpool said. “I am indeed serious. I’ll put the kid on a bus to Cornell or where the fuck ever and our Hornheaded friend will grab him before he scurries off to the wind again. He’ll be fine. Car rides are lullabies to him.”

May seemed touched.

“I’ll wire you the money, Wade,” she said.

“Huh? Oh, no. Don’t worry about it. I’m puttin’ it in the favor box,” Deadpool said. “Barnesy, my boy. Red hates everything upstate and his boo-bear’s got family they’re gonna visit in Poughkeepsie. Can one of you darling blockheads meet him up there to take the kid, so he doesn’t ruin his one and only chance at marriage?”

What.

The fuck.

Was happening?

“Uuuuh, when? Tomorrow?” Barton asked.

“Two days from now,” Deadpool said. “If you can’t, don’t sweat it. I got a gal who’s willing to pick him up.”

“I can go as far as Paterson,” Barnes said out of nowhere. “If your gal can bring him down that far, that’d be good. I’ll bring the bike.”

“Oh, that’ll be fun,” Deadpool said. “Totally doable. I’ll give her a call and send you an address. Thanks a million, Winter.”

Barnes sniffed.

“It’s cool. Show him a picture of me so he ain’t bolt again,” he said.

“Copy that,” DP said. “I’ll let him know what you said, May. Bye for now.”

He hung up.

May Parker deflated into a puddle of relief.

Tony still didn’t know what was happening.

“Wilson’s gonna hand the kid off to Daredevil,” Barton explained. “And DD will take him with him to Poughkeepsie, where Wilson’s contact—the fuck is her name, Barnes?”

“Domino,” Barnes said.

“That’s the one,” Barton said. “She’ll pick him up, probably with Summers, and bring him down to Paterson and then Barnes’ll go grab him from there and bring him home.”

That—

Wh—

Why couldn’t they, the Avengers, have orchestrated this? This was not hard. This was advanced Connect Four.

“Sometimes, you can’t think like a hero,” Barton told him. “You gotta think like a vigilante.”

 ---

 Peter came home. Barnes swept him up from the station in Paterson and tossed him over a shoulder. And Tony came into the medical bay as soon as he got word of their arrival to find him sprawled out there still, asking Barnes a thousand questions about fuckin’ heroin.

God, lord, Jesus.

Someone spare Tony’s soul.

Peter noticed him and reacted by slipping off Barnes’s shoulder and hiding behind him as though he expected Tony to start shouting at any moment.

And for a moment, Tony almost felt like he should have.

But he wasn’t Peter’s dad. And Peter hadn’t done that shit on purpose. He’d just been scared and when he got scared, he’d decided to turn towards people he knew he could trust.

The other street level guys. People like him.

Tony couldn’t be angry with him for that.

So he came over and collapsed into the chair next to Peter’s assigned bed and held out his arms.

“Hugs for an old man?” he asked.

Peter peeked out from behind Barnes and lit up.

His hug was crushing. His clothes were rank and his wrists looked skinny and he was as pale as Tony had ever seen him, but he was here.

And he was chillin’.

“Next time, just stay in the city, alright?” Tony said. “We got the state. You got the city. At least until you’re old enough to have your own credit card, yeah?”

“Kay,” Peter hummed.

“You scared the shit out of us, kiddo.”

Peter pulled away from him and hopped back up on the bed.

“Is my aunt coming?” he asked.

Tony sighed.

She was.

“Cool, I missed her. My phone broke and maps are hard. I got like four of them. Folks kept givin’ theirs to me, even though I needed like, money.”

Tony leaned forward and held his face in his hands.

“Yeah?” he finally managed to say.

“Yeah,” Peter hummed. “It’s really hard to get a bus with no money. And they don’t even have buses in a lot of places, you know? Like, Uber isn’t even a thing out there. You’ve just gotta have a car or know someone who does.”

Bless.

“Wade says that I’m a city boy.”

That’s ‘cause you are, child.

“But I slept in a tree, so that’s camping.”

It’s not.

“And there was a raccoon. So that’s camping.”

It’s really, really not.

“I saw Cyclops and he tried to laser-eyes me, but, get this, I Lizard-ed him. Went into the sewers like Connors. I mean, he’s a jerk, but he’s definitely right to stick to the sewers. It’s warm down there. Can you imagine if the X-men X-manned me, though? Wade says that they do that to people.”

Tony was melting.

“They definitely do that to people,” Barnes said.

Vigilantes, man. The lies they spread.

“I made some friends in Buffalo,” Peter carried on. “They’re nice. They used to live in Rochester. They saw me fighting a space-fish, and they said that was cool as hell. And so they were tellin’ me about garbage plates and then Chelsea’s mom told me I needed to go home because May probably wasn’t mad and it was getting too cold. And then she made me promise not to do drugs. And when Mr. Castle showed up, she waved him down—I like her a lot. I gave them my money so that they could sleep in the shelter and I think Mr. Castle gave her more money, but he gave me and Chelsea McDonalds. And it was like, so good, Mr. Stark. I forgot how much I like McDonalds.”

Fuckin’ garbage plates.

“I’m gonna make one,” Peter hummed.

Someone come take these kid home already.

 ----------------------------------

Problems I have with the Trope:

So I don’t know the homeless Peter trope very well, but I don’t love it because in order to write it, you have to remove May from the picture, pretty much entirely. Folks either tend to kill her or make her abusive and that’s fucked up to do to, not only Peter’s remaining family member, but to a civilian female character.

I also don’t love this trope because I don’t love Irondad and the homeless Peter trope is pretty much designed for him to be saved by Tony.

The third reason I don’t enjoy this trope is because I don’t think enough people do their research on, not only what it takes to become homeless (especially for a minor), but how broad definitions of homelessness are. People who are homeless don’t just live on the street; they live in cars, they couch surf, they work hard to be clean, they have jobs.

And the last reason (for now), that I find this trope difficult is Peter’s age. Age is the hardest shit. A homeless 14-15 yo is kind of difficult to work with because there are layers of safety nets and, if you don’t kill May or make her abusive, it is next to impossible to work through her responsible nature and stability to put her and Pete out on the street plausibly (and I refused to compromise on this, which is how I ended up with this accidental loss). It would be much easier to write a homeless Peter as a college student.

#fic #ficlet #trope subversion #Peter Parker #I'm still taking trope suggestions if you'd like to see one subverted/flipped

[eyreguide]

National Theatre Live - Jane Eyre

In 2016, I eagerly watched the theater broadcast of the U.K. play adaptation of Jane Eyre. This 3-hour production was directed by Sally Cookson and starred Madeleine Worrall as Jane, Felix Hayes as Rochester, and five other actors playing all the other roles.  I wrote this review back in 2016, and with the release online, I’m re-posting my thoughts.  I do have some critiques on the choices in the production, but I did enjoy it overall and am looking forward to seeing it again!

During the interval before the broadcast of this play, there was an interview and behind the scenes video about the play, and I really liked what I heard from the director about how she views the story, and how she feels that Jane's journey is the essential feature.  It is called Jane Eyre after all.  I very much agreed with her on that, and I loved that she felt such a connection to the story and put that love for it into her production.  The play is focused on Jane's story as a whole, starting with how she develops, so it was nice to see that all five parts of the book (Gateshead, Lowood, Thornfield, Morton, and Ferndean) are pretty fleshed out (the first three though is the main focus).  It was overall a good adaptation and a bold and unique interpretation of the story.  I only had some minor issues with it.

I wonder that if I had a chance to watch this again, I would feel as strongly about the things I'm about to mention.  Because when I first heard Jane Eyre the Musical I didn't love it, but after listening to the soundtrack a few times - I adored it.  So it's possible I just need to get used to some things, and also forget some of my hopes and expectations to really see the piece for what it is because this is not a straightforward adaptation.  

But anyways.  The first thing that struck me with this play was the staging.  It's very stark, modern, minimal and theatrical.  But I would have liked something a bit more evocative of the time period.  This is theater, so I understand that sometimes it's nice to pull back and focus on performance and see the story created by just the actors, but for me, sitting in a theater watching it on a big screen, I felt a little taken out of the story at times by how the background was bland and unexciting.  It had the feeling of a really good rehearsal.  I would have loved a little more theater-level realism to set the stage as it were.  When there were some great moments in the play (and there were!) I was so easily distracted by the feeling that these are actors performing a role.  It was just something that was at the back of my mind sometimes while watching.  I did like some things about the set though. There was real fire coming out from the bottom of the stage.  And for a simple constructed set, they made good use of everything and it was very inventive.

Some of the ways they adapted the story felt more like it was there to be modern or innovative and I felt like it would have been better if it was there to serve the story and not just to be an effect.  Things like the way the play shows Jane traveling to a new place by the whole cast running in place.  It went on for a little longer than necessary.  And I felt like they could have just transitioned (*cough* and added more dialogue from the book *cough*).  And Rochester's dog Pilot.  He was comic relief because he was played by a person, running around barking, and he was funny, but Pilot isn't in the story that much.  It didn't add anything to the story and must have replaced some things I would have liked to see.

There was music to go along with the action - a live band played background and also played for the mysterious woman who seemed to narrate Jane's inner thoughts through song - turns out the woman was playing Bertha and I actually liked that! - and I also did like the music.  Some of the songs that are in the novel was set to music for the show (with some liberties taken with the lyrics)  including my favorite - Rochester's song to Jane.  I don't think I've ever seen that done before!  That made me so happy!  However, there were a couple (two that I recognized) modern songs that were sung to illustrate the story and it bothered me that although the songs have some parts that fit with the story (kinda) the lyrics don't completely fit. Like  "Mad About the Boy" with one lyric that goes "Lord knows I'm not a school girl/ Who's in the flurry of her first affair" -- but that's exactly what Jane is though....  And then near the end there was "Crazy" - the Gnarls Barkley song which hardly fits if it was sung for Jane.  Which it seemed like it was.  If it was sung for Bertha, that fits better.  It was strange for me though.

Things that I really liked:

The Greek chorus of the cast speaking Jane's inner thoughts as if she was having a conversation with herself.  I especially liked it when Rochester tells Jane he'll tell her everything when they have been married a year and a day, and the chorus of Jane's thoughts are basically like "What? Are you kidding me??"  For me (because Jane does not show her feelings!) it's nice to get that window into her thoughts this way.  

The scene where Jane tells off Mrs. Reed was particularly powerful to me.  I loved the real indignation that seemed to emanate from the actress playing Jane.  That moment was very believable in the show.

After Jane and Rochester meet, there is this montage of Jane and Rochester sort of seeing each other around the house and watching each other.  It showed that they sensed each other's 'strangeness' and were intrigued by each other. Especially because there is that passage in the book where Rochester talks about watching Jane in the early days.  It was nice to see that adapted.  Pretty much anything that shows Jane and Rochester's connection appeals to me though.

In a similar vein - Jane and Rochester's engagement scenes appealed to me, because Rochester was trying to give Jane gifts, and Jane kept refusing them.  Until he gave her the veil.  And she accepted it - only because it would make him happy.  Aww.

The farewell scene emotion-wise was pretty good too.  I did wish there was more time spent on Rochester's motivation for what he did (like when Jane says she does believe Rochester would hate her if she were mad, Rochester does not say his answer to that - and I do love that speech.)

The Cast

Since the cast is small, I want to talk about them individually:

Madeleine Worrall as Jane.  I think she did a tremendous job carrying the whole production with a lot of emotion, and she had to play Jane as a baby into an adult which must not have been easy.  I do wish Jane was played by a younger actress though - it is superficial of me, but I feel like Jane's youth makes it easy to understand why she makes the mistakes she does with Rochester.  I also thought that it was out of character how overly emotional Jane was at times.  When Jane is an adult, she really keeps things locked down tight, on the outside.  Madeleine's Jane always seemed on the verge of an outburst.  Jane is restrained and composed. which makes those moments when her reserve cracks all the more effective.  That seemed missing to me in this adaptation.  It would have been nice to see her inner emotions more through the chorus of Jane's thoughts I think.

Felix Hayes as Rochester.  Just superficially again - me no likey the beard haha.  But I liked him more as Rochester than I did of Madeleine as Jane.  Even though this Rochester showed a bit more anger and bitterness than that teasing side of Rochester that I like, he did have some funny moments and he did deliver on some teasing.  The proposal scene just lacked a little bit in romance because he seemed so angry when he was asking/ordering Jane to marry him.  I mean the audience laughed at how aggressive he was, and I feel like the proposal shouldn't really be a funny moment...  Felix also played John Reed which was interesting.  Should I read some kind of interpretation in that??

Simone Saunders as Bessie, Blanche, and Diana.  There were two actors I really liked in this production.  Simone was one of them.  I liked her because I felt like her portrayal of Bessie was so spot on.  Just the right amount of temper and tenderness, and she was so believable.  And her Blanche was fantastic too.  Snooty and entitled.  I was really impressed by her acting!  Especially because they were such different characters and she was so great at doing all of them.

Craig Edwards as Brocklehurst, Pilot and Mr. Mason.  Craig Edwards was the other actor I really loved.  I kinda wish he played Rochester!  It would have been interesting to see his interpretation. But it was his Brocklehurst that I thought was so good.  He just seemed so stiff and forbidding and perfect.  And his Pilot was fun, even if I was not as happy with the addition he made to the scenes.

Laura Elphinestone as Helen, Adele and St. John Rivers.  Hmm.  Helen is Jane's friend, but I didn't really get a sense of Helen's great kindness from this production.  It seemed like Helen was really nice to Jane just once,  the other two times Helen's conversation with Jane came off a bit begrudging. Adele was weirdly super loud and annoying every time she had a scene.  No wonder Rochester didn't want her around.  That's probably just the way both characters were adapted perhaps.  Laura as St. John was very good though. I loved how uptight and preachy she was.  There was very little sympathy for him as a character though.  Not that I do have sympathy for St. John, but Jane does in the book.

Maggie Tagney as Mrs. Reed and Mrs. Fairfax.  Maggie was great in both roles.  They are such different characters, and Maggie made them very believable as individuals.  And they felt true to the characters as they are in the book!

Melanie Marshall as Bertha.  Wow, Melanie has a fantastic voice.  Such a great range, and it was used to full potential here.  Sometimes her singing was high and eerie and served as background, and other times it was jazzy or folksy for whatever served the song.  And again, I liked that she was Bertha too.  It kind of fit that she was in a way, shadowing Jane throughout her story.  But not in the way that Jane and Bertha are similar or have a similar life, but because she will play a role in Jane's life unbeknownst to her.

I feel like this review is pretty critical but I hope not overly so.  I think this was a good production - I mean there are ones that really get it wrong, but this play does have a lot going for it.  A great sense of atmosphere for one.  It's like an impressionistic version of the story, and it does portray the emotional beats of the novel well for the most part.  And again, I love that the focus is so much on Jane.  It's gotten some very good reviews in England, so I think as a piece of theater it must be excellent.  And it seemed like a lot of the theater goers when I went enjoyed it.  It is a very intriguing interpretation that got me thinking, regardless of my personal issues!

#Jane Eyre #Charlotte Bronte #National Theatre #National Theatre Live #Play