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ninyard · 3 years

Note

part two of the stefan/andrew au PLEASE

WELP this might not be the part two people wanted but here’s what I wanted so~ enjoy!

(Part 1 ? is here)

((this got rly long so I had to stop but if u want a third part lmk 🥺👉👈))

Neil made his first mistake by not bolting the opposite way when Coach Hernandez told him he had visitors. An Exy racquet to the chest and a single glance at those bright hazel eyes turned Neils entire world sideways in seconds. This couldn’t be happening. Neil almost couldn’t hold back the ‘Andrew?’ that wished to escape his lips. Of course, this wasn’t Stefan’s Andrew, but Neil knew that already. Life had turned Andrew Minyard into a man of manufactured emotions, a life of violence and misled decisions landing him on Coach Wymack’s pity party guest list that was the Foxes’ lineup. Andrew didn’t flinch looking at Neil, and Neil begged the universe to have erased the memory of Stefan from Andrew mind. He hung around a motel, for Christ’s sake, how many other people would he have met before and after Stefan? Neil Josten looked totally different, with puberty, hair dye and new contact lenses on his side.

The second mistake he made was not realising Kevin Day was going to be around. If Andrew wasn’t dangerous enough, Kevin was even more so. Neil couldn’t believe his eyes the moment he looked closely at the teams lineup from the previous year. Kevin Day would have forgotten Nathaniel Wesninski, he was sure of it, but to look across to a picture of the teams goalkeeper and seeing the short blond boy he met in California? It was a sure sign for Neil to stay the hell away from South Carolina.

Neil’s biggest mistake was deciding to push his luck and take a plane there to sign with the Foxes. He was signing a death wish; but he didn’t care anymore. He was a dead man walking, living off stolen hours. It was only a matter of time before someone caught up with him. His mother was dead, god, his mom, Mary Hatford, the woman who taught him how to be. It wasn’t just like Debby, who died leaving Toronto, or Alice, who died leaving London, or Judy who died on the train between Germany and Prague. This was permanent, and Neil didn’t think he could run for much longer.

Andrew didn’t say anything during their meeting, in which he had plenty of opportunities to at least look like he recognised Neil, or the features of Stefan still left on his face. Kevin didn’t say anything either, and his words made it clear he didn’t remember Nathaniel, either. Neil was walking a thing line between life and death, with Stefan on one shoulder and Nathaniel on the other, waiting to tip him over, to expose the truth, to leave him buried like his mother.

The first night Neil slept - or more so lay on the couch in silence for hours, brain filled with noise and regret - in David’s apartment, he couldn’t stop thinking about Andrew. He couldn’t stop thinking about the kid with white-blond hair and a toothy smile, who ran his fingers so gently over Stefan’s skin, like he would break if Andrew dared get any closer. He couldn’t stop thinking about the playground, and the motel, and the kisses… and the punches, the kicks, the pulling of hair, the slaps across the face with yells to accompany them. Before Neil knew it he was stuck with his face hovering over the toilet bowl, his stomach threatening to burst at any moment. After a minute of gagging and spitting into the water, Neil washed his face and headed towards the balcony that David told him to smoke on if he needed to. This was one of those needing to moments.

Weeks went by without any indication he was going to be caught. Kevin looked at him like a stupid amateur, which was good for Nathaniel’s sake, but for Neil? Neil, who fought like his life depended on the racquet in his hands? Neil, who ran like his father was hot on his heels every single time he set off down the court? It hurt him to be insulted so often, but Kevin was leagues above him when he played. Neil was never going to be good enough. Andrew avoided him as much as possible. Nicky told him that was just how Andrew was; if you brought him no benefit, or if you made him bored, he would put you on a high shelf and never look at you again. By the way Andrew only spoke to Neil when Neil stood up to Kevin, Neil thought it was obvious that Andrew didn’t recognise him.

And then came the invite to Columbia.

“Get rid of the contacts, by the way.” Nicky had brushed off the realisation like it was nothing. It sounded like ‘you have something in your teeth’ but felt like a screaming siren above Neil’s head. It felt like a punch to the gut, like a gun to his head. “Andrew’s decision. And brown, Neil? You’re so predictable and boring it’s adorable.” He’d left a bag of clothes with Neil.

When Neil looked at his blue eyes, he felt too many feelings he couldn’t describe, or name. He felt like he was looking at his father. He felt like he was looking into the mirror like he had the last time he was Nathaniel. The last time he was in Baltimore. He’d cycled through the catalogue of contacts during his time on the run, but never once went back to blue. They were the icy eyes of a murderer, not the eyes of quiet, boring Neil. But at least they weren’t green. Neil was worried about Kevin recognising him by his eyes, but it was going to be dark out by the time they left. Neil would just have to stay in the dark around Kevin, and hope he got too drunk to notice, too drunk to remember.

When Andrew’s group came to pick Neil up, there was a change in dynamic Neil hadn’t seen before. Instead of Nicky being the middle man in their conversations, or Kevin being the reason to talk, Andrew was taking charge of their night. Neil’s heart raced every time he looked into his eyes. Every time he heard that voice it told him to run, the same voice as before, only deeper, emotionless. Neil couldn’t imagine this Andrew crying. Neil couldn’t imagine this Andrew being open, about his sexuality, or his feelings. If he didn’t look almost the same only older, he would probably doubt this was even the same Andrew.

“Oh! Oh, now, that’s interesting!” Andrew had commented as Neil left his dorm room. Nicky, Aaron and Kevin had walked ahead of the two of them. When they’d disappeared around the corner into the elevator down, Andrew turned and grabbed Neil’s face to inspect it. “What a change, hmm? Blue to brown is a bit drastic for fashion, don’t you think?”

“I’ve never liked my eyes,” Neil spoke through the fingers that rested over his lips. “I’ve worn them brown most my life.” Andrew tutted as Neil spoke, but left that thought there. His features were angry, like Neil had insulted him, but he S miled like he’d been talking to his best friend. He placed a cigarette between his lips as they joined the others in the elevator.

Before long, they were walking through the doors of Eden’s Twilight, music pumping and swirling through the air, vibrating their bodies as they walked. Andrew motioned for Neil to follow him to the bar once they’d found a table.

“Shots on me.” He’d come down from his manic high, waiting for his dust adrenaline to kick in. His smile was gone, but his tone and way of speaking was still the same. “What do you drink?”

“I don’t,” Neil answered, having to yell over the music.

“Sure you do.” Andrew waved him off. “I’m being polite. What do you drink?” He asked again, as the bartender came over.

“A coke for me.” Neil told the man behind the bar before he could ask Andrew. “Just a little ice.”

“See, now, Pinocchio, when someone offers you a gift you say thank you and accept it.” Andrew turned towards the man. “Roland. This is Neil. He’s a newbie.”

“I hear you,” Roland nodded, already placing shot glasses on the tray he’d put on the bar. “My choice, with dash for the new kid.” He poured a clear spirit into eight shot glasses, and used the fountain tap to fill a larger glass with cola. Andrew passed cash over and waved off his change as a tip. Before Neil knew it he was heading through the crowd, Andrew balancing the tray on one hand held high above his head. They reached the table and nothing has spilled, and before Neil knew it, the shot glasses were stacked in a tower on the tray as Neil nursed his coke.

“You don’t drink.” Andrew turned to Neil after watching the others take to the dance floor, coming up on their high, dusting when they couldn’t be seen. “Why?”

“Hate the taste, mostly.” That would be the truth if ‘taste’ actually meant ‘feeling of being out of control of my body’. He shrugged at Andrew’s dissatisfaction with that answer.

“You come to university and you don’t drink?” Andrew scoffed. “Do you smoke?” Neil shook his head. He’d tried an edible by accident once in some cafe in Europe, and got so paranoid they had to move on that night. He swore he saw his dad staring in the windows in the red-light district, a blunt between his lips, a smile made of murder wrapped around it.

“Not for me.” Neil took a sip from the cold coke. “Hard to find when it’s not legal and I hate the cops. Takes too much effort to roll.” Neil lied, like he knew what he was talking about, but he just remembered watching people in the cities he went to, everywhere having their local stoners, the folks who sat in the parks without a care in the world.

“You don’t drink, you don’t smoke, you won’t dust.” Andrew rattled off the options. “Is it molly you’d prefer?” And when Neil shook his head again: “Psychedelics? Benzos?”

“I’m just not interested.” Neil looked into his glass, focusing on the ice. If he kept looking at Andrew he felt like he would crack. “Don’t we get tested before games anyway? What’s the point?” Andrew didn’t answer before he heading back up the bar. Neil didn’t follow this time. When he came back, there was ten shot glasses on the table. Again, eight filled with an unnamed spirit that burned Neil’s nose and twisted his stomach. The other two were cola.

“I’d hate for the new boy to feel left out.” Aaron, Nicky and Kevin had arrived back to the table for their shots. Andrew handed Neil one of his glasses. Neil knocked it back when the others did. It was ordinary coke, no surprises, no weird tastes, no reason for Neil to believe Andrew would have given him a shot of alcohol instead. That was, until he clinked glasses with the others and swallowed the second shot in a quick movement. He felt the alcohol burn his throat. It warmed his chest, but the familiar feeling wasn’t what worried him. It was the taste of salt on his tongue when he hadn’t licked any before hand. He quickly excused himself from the table and left for the bathroom.

Andrew had drugged him. He didn’t know why, but all he knew was the crackers were already coursing through his veins with deadly adrenaline. He was sure his racing heart wasn’t helping. It didn’t help, either, when Nicky reached the stairs before he did, and pulled him in for a salty, dusty kiss. Neil pushed him off as discreetly as he could.

“Nothing?” Nicky complained as he Neil bounced up the sticky stairs two steps at a time. Neil was sure he heard him say something about Neil being too hot to be straight, but the roaring anxiety in his ears was enough to drown it out. He locked himself in a stall and tried to best to throw up. He hadn’t eaten before he’d left, and he hadn’t drank anything other than he soda, so his attempts were fairly futile. A knock at the door interrupted him, and when he answered with a quick ‘occupied!’ He heard the door unlocking from the outside. Andrew pushed his way into the cramped stall and shut the door behind him. Before Neil could even begin to object Andrew had grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall, Neil struggling to keep his balance with the toilet in the way.

“You don’t like the taste of alcohol or you’re afraid of losing control? Telling your truths?” Andrew’s drug induced smile had returned with mischief and malice. “Let’s see how this does!” His voice was low as he spoke, with an enthusiasm to his words that made Neil sweat. When he went to protest, Andrew covered his mouth with his free hand.

“Shut up,” He clicked his tongue. “You have spent your entire extended stay here lying to me and lying to poor, gullible Coach. I see the way you look at Kevin, too. Either you’re lying about not swinging or there’s something deeper to that intimidation.” Neil tried to get out a ‘I don’t swing.’ Before Andrew shushed him again. “Don’t keep lying, newbie! One last chance at honesty.” He lifted his hand no more than an inch from Neil’s mouth. Neil was sweating, his hands shaky, his mind turning into fog, desperate to cling to any sort of euphoria it could find. When it’s search came up empty, it filled his stomach, his head, his hands, his feet, with anxious buzzing instead. He couldn’t ignore the nauseating feelings the drugs brought with them.

“I don’t swing,” Neil stood his ground. “I don’t.” Andrew brought his hand up to Neils hair and yanked him down to his level, hard. He kept an inescapable grip in his curls as their faces almost touched.

“Still don’t know?” Andrew pouted in fake-pity. “Ten years later and you still don’t know?” Neil’s stomach would’ve fallen from his body if it’s got the chance. His heart would’ve went with it when Andrew continued. “There better be a good reason for Neil existing, Stefan, and I can’t wait to hear it.”

“What?” He tried, but it was no use. His voice failed him, cracking as the futile attempts at lying left his lips. “I don’t know what-“

“Shut up.” Andrew repeated. His grip not relaxing. Neil was worried he was pulling his hair from the root, but that was probably the least of his worries. Probably. “Do not lie to me again.” Neil searched his eyes for a sliver of doubt. A tiny, tiny possibility that he might think he was wrong. It wasn’t there. He’d been caught.

“Andrew.” He wrapped his hands around Andrew’s wrist, the one hovering over his head, muscles tense from the grip on his head. “Can we talk without ripping my fucking hair out?”

Before Neil could react, Andrew had let go of his hair, but in doing so, had swung his head with full force into the side walls of the stall. His balance finally failed him, but Andrew caught him by the neck of the black turtleneck he’d been gifted. He heard a few stitches pop, but it didn’t matter. The sudden movements turned Neil’s stomach with a violent wave, and he gagged hard, his stomach threatening to come out his mouth. He leaned over to spit into the toilet and bared his teeth at Andrew, breathing heavily through them.

“So he lives,” Andrew smiled, his pupils blown, a white-knuckled hold on Stefan-Neil’s collar. Neil was afraid he was going to pass out. His body was on fire, his mind screaming like an emergency broadcast alarm. “Tell me you didn’t know, oh humour me! I’d hate to think you’re stupid enough to come here still in possession of the memory from there.”

“I didn’t think you’d remember.” Neil didn’t break eye contact.

“So you ARE that stupid!” Andrew pushed him back, letting go of his top. Neil tried to assess his escape routes, but it was no use. He couldn’t get out of this. “I remembered little Stefan the second Kevin showed me your file. I didn’t think it would be you, surely it couldn’t be, but our little visit to fuckport, Arizona couldn’t lie to me like you did. So is it Neil, or is it Stefan?”

“Neither.” He spat out the honesty, worried if he waited, another lie would take it’s place. “But you can call me Neil.”

“Oh, no, no!” Andrew grabbed him by the neck, holding his jaw in a way that could become a choke very quickly. “Maybe I’ll stick with Stefan. You don’t get a say. You know, I thought mommy killed you.” A knife twisted in Neil’s gut.

“She’s dead.” Neil tried to breath through his unwanted come-up. “That’s the only reason I’m here. Because she wasn’t alive to stop me.”

“Did you do it?” He held Neils face like the world would end if he let go. He held even tighter when Neil tried to pull away.

“No.” That was all he said. He thought about continuing, considering the fact he was a dead man already. But he stopped himself. How could he say it was his dad without saying he was the mafias right-hand-murderer? Was he wasting his time lying?

“Didn’t think you did.” Andrew laughed, barely even blinking as he intimidated Neil. “No balls then, no balls now.”

“I was twelve.” He spat through crushed cheeks. “We were kids.”

“Old enough to be a liar.” Andrew let go of Neil’s face with a forceful push and turned to open the stall door. “You’re going to lead us outside. If you deviate or try to run I’ll kill you. I will kill you.” So Neil did just that. He led the way in silence, down the stairs and towards the exit. When Nicky stopped and excitedly asked where they were going, Neil looked back to Andrew who waved his pack of cigarettes, a smile on his face, no essence of a lie present. Neil just kept walking, kept his head down, and tried to ignore the pain on the side of his head. When they reached the outside of the club, the brisk air biting their exposed skin, Neil turned to the first man he saw, a club-goer at the top of the queue, and swung a punch up. Andrew noticed the second his hands left his sides, balled up with a plan. The man threw a hefty punch back, shouting intimidations, knocking Neil’s short frame to the ground. As quick as humanly possible, Andrew had hoisted him up, wrapped his arms around his back and twisted his wrist in such a way that a single jolt would break it. He held him in that position with one hand, putting all his strength into keeping Neil still.

“He gets crazy on tequila!” Andrew laughed, shaking his head as he took out his wallet and pulled out a fifty note. He threw it at the guy as compensation, his friends holding him back from beating Neil’s vulnerable, ballsy ass. He continued yelling as Andrew hauled him away. He grunted in pain as he refused to loosen his grip on Neil’s wrists. He walked him around the back of the club, to an empty, barely lit parking lot. He threw him to the ground so quickly he didn’t have time to stop his fall.

“Every moment I spend around you, you prove you’re much fucking dumber than I thought.” Andrew spat down, then crouching down to Neil’s level, balancing on the tops of his feet. Neil cradled his head, arms wrapped around the nape of his neck. He was sure he had a concussion. He could barely open his eyes through the pulsing blood rushing through his head, but forced himself to, to look up at Andrew’s smiling face.

“What happened?” Spit dripped down his chin, blood slowly trickling from the busted lip he’d earned himself. “What happened to that Andrew?” Andrew froze for half a second, and Neil noticed. “The Andrew who cried because he was gay? The kid who actually fucking cared about anything?”

“Oh, you are treading thin fucking ice for someone who doesn’t know how to swim.” Andrew tilted his head. “Mention another precious memory and I won’t hesitate to actually break your wrist next time.”

“Why?” He spat blood at Andrew’s feet. “Afraid somebody might remember what you’re actually like when you’re not pretending to be a sociopath?” Andrew opened his mouth at the challenge, a smile creeping up one side of his face. “Are you afraid to actually have someone around you know anything about you? I’m a threat. That’s all you care about.” He continued. “What, do you think I’ll use it against you? You’ve been treating me like shit since we met. If I was going to stab you in the back I’d have done it already, asshole.”

“Since we met, again.” He corrected the most irrelevant part of Neils sentiment.

“Let me go now and I’ll move on. You won’t ever see me again.” Neil bargained. Andrew’s eyebrows twitched ever so slightly. “This time I’ll get a chance to say goodbye.”

“No,” Andrew stopped him. “You don’t get to arrive in to my life like a tornado and disappear. You don’t get to dig your own grave and push me into it.” He bent down to get closer to Neils shaking face. “You’re going to tell me exactly what happened first. Tell me what she did to you.”

“No.” Neil strained. “I moved on. You were dangerous. You almost got me killed.”

“Boohoo, do you hear my tiny violin, liar?” Andrew grabbed a hold of his hair again. Neil let out a cry of pain, trying to pry Andrew’s fingers from his scalp. “Talk. Talk or I will get you killed.”

“My father is a very dangerous man. He’s murdered more people than there are days in a year.” Neil wiped the blood from his lips. It stung as he did so, but it didn’t matter. He took out a small stack of IDs from his wallet and threw them across to Andrew. For a second, anyone would’ve thought they were real, but closer inspection killed that thought. Andrew was holding a driver’s license belonging to Chris Angle, 21, from New York. A European passport card signed by George Debois from Paris. A gym membership from Seattle, an employee pass from Toronto, two more drivers licenses from cities across the globe. All the names were different, but they didn’t belong to different people. They all had pictures of Neil on them. Some he had long hair, short hair, an unfortunate buzz-cut. He wore a beard in some, the baby face of a teenager in others. “You aren’t the only one I’ve lied to. Don’t think you’re special.” Andrew snapped the IDs with angry force. Neil took a deep breath, knowing the last memories of his mother were buried in the face of Christopher Hart, snapped in half, just like that. He continued searching through his wallet. Deep into the card pockets of the tattered leather. He didn’t look up when he heard Andrew drop the scraps of his identities on the ground. Neil found what he was looking for and threw it again, across the space separating them, it clattering by his feet. “If my mom found that she’d have killed me herself. We ran so she could protect me. I made that so much harder on her by meeting you.” Andrew inspected the card he’d been thrown. An under-eye twitch and a slow inhale accompanied his realisation. “You want to hate me for what she made me do, fine, but it was inevitable. You were never going to be the reason that made us stay.”

Neil had given Andrew something he couldn’t bare to part with. His old wallet stayed buried deep, deep in his belongings, so well hidden his mother hadn’t even known it existed. He usually kept his current IDs on his person, and never in a wallet. It was a ticking time bomb, but Neil needed something. He needed a reason to feel, and if that was the memory of the good day his mom had had when they finally showered after weeks of baby wipes and deodorant, it was something to hold on to. Neil had to stay grounded in some sort of reality. He was on the run, sure, but the people he met, the things he’d done? They were real. It hurt to see those memories snapped on the ground like trash, but Andrew didn’t snap the memory he held in his hands.

Andrew held the library card of Stefan Montgomery. It had a faded black and white photo on it, scratched out with time. He had begged the librarian to let him have the card without taking a picture, but she had insisted it was necessary so people didn’t have more than one. In the photo was a scared little boy, a gash on his cheek, with crispy curls and a skinny face. Neil remembered walking to the library when he couldn’t find Andrew, taking out books to help him learn any of the languages he needed to know. The library in Oakland taught him about the history of Spain, and the culture in France. There was something about Stefan that Neil didn’t want to forget. He’d kept that library card safe as if it were a lifeline, like he knew it would come in handy some day.

And then Andrew threw it across the empty parking lot like a frisbee.

“She didn’t see anything.” Neil tried, as if it would help. “We left because I made a friend. Not because… you know.”

“I was not your friend.” Andrew stood up and put a cigarette between his teeth. He lit it, one puff, two puff, three puffs until it burned red. “I was never your friend.”

“You were.” Neil struggled to stand up and join him. “Don’t lie to a liar.”

“You remember it wrong!” He took a short drag and flicked ash as he spoke. “You were a toy to play with when there was nothing else to do.”

“You could’ve went home.” Neil took the cigarette from Andrew’s fingers. “But hey, I wasn’t the only one who needed to escape heavy hands, right?” He pulled the smoke into his lungs and breathed out before flicking the barely smoked cigarette away. “You were my friend. You had Stefan killed because I cared about you when Stefan wasn’t supposed to care about anybody.”

“Be quiet.” Andrew pulled another cigarette from the packet and squared up to Neil who was standing so close he could feel Andrew’s breath hot on his face. “You didn’t care.”

“Are you listening?” Neil spat again, the heat of the cigarette having hurt his cracked lips. “We left because of you. Because I let you in, and I’m sorry you were collateral damage in our war against the world but fuck, we didn’t have a choice. Do you think I wanted to leave? I was going to leave you a note, but she wouldn’t leave my side until we were in another city and Stefan was just another name in the pile. Fuck you if you don’t want to believe that. I don’t owe you an explanation but you’ve got one anyway. Tell me to leave and I’ll go. Tell me you understand and I’ll go, Andrew.”

“I waited for you.” Andrew exhaled honestly through cigarette smoke. “Every day! The fourth day I tried knocking on the door of your motel room. Fifth day a random couple opened the door and I knew you weren’t coming back. Why should I give you another chance, hmm? When you so easily could run away before, who’s to say you won’t do it again?”

“I’m not asking for another chance,” Neil head was pounding. He felt like he could pass out, his ears ringing and body jittery. “I don’t know, maybe I’m asking you to remember what I meant to you.” Andrew pursed his lips at that. He was struggling to keep his composure, like the memory of before was chipping away slowly at this version of Andrew. He was holding himself together with twitches and small fidgets.

“I hate you.” He said, coldly. He had lit his cigarette and smoked through half of it before speaking again. Neil just stood, suddenly thinking about if Kevin were to find the IDs scattered on the floor. He didn’t even think he could lie to Nicky about that. He would pick them up in a moment, but he couldn’t afford to lose Andrew’s interest in the conversation. If Neil got distracted now he could ruin every chance he possible had at reconciling some sort of relationship with Andrew.

“I hate what the world has turned you into.” Andrew snorted a laugh at Neil’s dramatics.

“Oh, you are a pipe bomb.” Andrew started to walk away, but when Neil grabbed his arm to stop him, in a quicker movement he had twisted Neil’s arm in some sort of self defence move that hurt. “You don’t have a right to touch me anymore. Keep your lying hands to yourself or I’ll break every one of your fingers.” He didn’t let go immediately.

“Do you miss it?” Neil searched Andrew’s eyes for something, anything. “Being vulnerable? Being comforted instead of being alone, blaming the world for your problems?” Before Neil could even think to keep going, Andrew had used his free hand to manoeuvre a knife from his arm bands and hold it up to Neil’s face.

“I dare you to keep pushing.” His words were casual, but a threat nonetheless. “Stop trying to control a life you left. I won’t be a scratching post for your mommy issues, runaway.”

“What did Jakub do to you?” Neil brought a memory out from the depths. As soon as the name left his lips, Andrew’s entire body hardened and his eyes turned to glass. He slashed a cut into Neil’s cheekbone without hesitation and proceeded to let go of his arm and jam a thumb into the fresh wound. “Why did you spend your childhood alone in a playground?” Neil spoke through gritted teeth.

“If you want to keep your fantasy alive I advise you to really shut up now.” Andrew pushed him backwards, a final squeeze in the gash as he did so. Even more blood dripped down his face. Andrew wiped his hands in his pants and picked up the ignored cigarette he’d dropped in the altercation. “You are going in circles. This is your last warning.”

“My mom nearly broke half the bones in my body trying to get rid of the memory of you.” Neil took his spot back up so close to Andrews face he could practically see every one of the pores in his face. He still had freckles scattered across his face, his skin soft, with faint acne scars here and there across his cheeks. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

“You should have.” Andrew threw his cigarette at Neil. “Make your choice. Run like you’re used to.” He looked him up and down one more time and turned on his feet back towards the club. Neil didn’t follow. He started to pick up the remnants of his past and he felt his nose ache in psychosomatic pain, remembering a nose-breaking punch his mother threw when Neil dared asked if they could stay. He spat again, still trying to get the salty taste out of his mouth. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold onto the shards of plastic evidence of who he used to. After picking them all up he had to stop, and sit down. He was afraid he was having a panic attack, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the drugs still ravishing his system, or if it was because of Andrew. Maybe it was both. It probably was. He didn’t think he could’ve spoken the truth if he wasn’t high, but God, if he were sober it would’ve been so much easier to run. High Neil was emotional Neil, empathetic Neil, hurt Neil. He’d only had the experience of being really, genuinely high a few times, and every single time just reminded him how much he hated the feeling of being out of control. Of his nerves, his feelings, every fibre in his being misfiring and doing the opposite to what he wanted. His brain was begging him to feel the chemicals it was pumping out, but all it did was amplifying the aching feeling in his chest. He let out a noise that didn’t quite resemble a cry, or a sigh, or a grunt. It was a noise born from pain, a mixture of anxiety and heartbreak, maybe. He wasn’t sure what that felt like. Maybe this was it.

He tried to steady his breath and he stumbled across the empty lot. The booming bass from the music at Eden’s practically shook the ground as he walked, at least, it sure felt like it did. He stumbled as he reached down to pick up the library card so carelessly thrown away. It hurt him even more looking at Stefan, feeling this pang in his stomach that wished things could’ve been different. He didn’t think he liked Andrew like that, and being on the same team was just the destruction of a childhood crush. Neil tried to come up with excuses in his head to how Andrew felt, but it was obvious he had thrown Stefan into the bad memories pile a long, long time ago. Neil showing up again just ripped through Andrew’s closure, and knowing he had feelings beneath what he showed, he was probably hurting too. It didn’t seem like it, but maybe he was. Neil had put the ID away, and looked around. He had no real idea where he was, or how to get home. Before he knew it, he was sprinting away from the club, going nowhere, going anywhere but there. His head wasn’t in a place to decide that he should stay. He’s worth it. His heart raced at the thought of Andrew’s face, looking down at the long unused library card. He’s worth it. Neil couldn’t look back. He was wondering what Andrew was telling the others, and if they would believe him. He wondered if he’d told Nicky about Neil’s Idontknow sexuality, and that’s why Nicky thought it okay to kiss him. But he didn’t feel anything with Nicky. He didn’t look at anyone in the way he looked at Andrew. He ran and ran and ran until he’d sweat out the drugs, until his head was more focused on trying to breathe than it was on Andrew, and his mom. It took a while, and he was lost when he stopped. Unfamiliar streets, him a stranger in someone else’s hometown. Maybe that made things worse. This feeling was too familiar. Lost, lost, lost. Sometimes lost became familiar, became home. He didn’t think he could be un-lost again.

Part 3

#this is about older andy n Neil #so pls send an ask if u want more of them when they were young #cos I love Stefan + Andrew #Andrew minyard #Neil josten #andreil #tfc #aftg #the foxhole court #all for the game #andreil hc #just want ppl to read this bc I’m really happy with it :(

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what-the--curtains · 3 years

Text

In a Week

Part 2/4 - The Importance of Being Idle

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

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Summary: Things get easier between you and Frankie as the storm outside rages on.

Authors notes: Hello! Sorry this took so long (I forgot I had a lab report due this week so I was busy panic writing 6000 words the patient few days!) anyways this is soft makes my heart happy 🥺 thank u for all the support in the story💕💕

Tw: Swearing, dead sibling mentioned (I think that’s all)

Work count: 4.9k

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

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Day 2

You don’t know when,or how it happened, but sometime during the night you had found your way over to the heat being emitted from human furnace Frankie Morales. Your limbs were wrapped lazily around him, with your leg over his and your arm resting idly on his chest. You blink into the light emitting a dissatisfied grumble realizing you had woken up. You hear a sigh from above and with one eye still closed, you tilt your head up to see Frankie currently hyper focused on winning whatever game he was playing on his phone.

"You could have woken me up you know.” You say, detaching from him and rolling over onto your back rubbing your eyes. “How long have you been awake?" you ask, yawning.

"Few hours, you’re quite the sleeper, slept through all 4 alarms that went off." He responds, still fixated on his phone.

"Shit, sorry about that. My mother used to say I could sleep for England" you state, earning a soft chuckle from the man beside you. Even after years of working on hospital hours, waking up was always a struggle for you, no matter the time of day. After a few moments of contemplating whether you really had to move, you rip off the covers and scoot out of bed. Tearing open the curtains you let out a dissatisfied groan when you see a snowscape where the parking lot once was. You turn around arms crossed, eyes glazed over inadvertently boring into him. You hear him say something but it doesn't register.

“What?” you ask, shaking yourself from the trance and moving towards your over packed bag to retrieve clean clothes.

“Nothing.” he says, eyes back on his phone. You raise your eyebrows and head into the bathroom to get changed, emerging in sweats and a vintage band shirt that you’d tied at the waist.

"The clash? Nice." Frankie says, as he passes by you into the bathroom, closing the door.

"Ya London Calling" you respond sitting down on the bed and pulling on some socks, not fully listening to what he had said. "I’m going to ask the front desk if we can renew the room, doesn't look like we're going anywhere anytime soon. I can see if there's another one available if you don’t wanna share" You say, when you hear the doors lock click open, knowing he may still be mad at you for not pulling over sooner.

"I mean I don't mind sharing, unless you’d be more comfortable..." he starts, mouth hanging open downturned slightly, as he rinses his hands.

“I’m fine sharing, nice to have some company plus it's cheaper this way.” you say, grabbing the room key off the nightstand.

"Let me know how much it is, I'll pay half" he says, stretching out his back, cursing the mattress for being too soft.

"I feel like you should be paying more since you get the good half of the bed.” you offer, pointing your finger at him.

“I think they call that extortion,” he says, grinning “Oh, see if they have any food while you're down there I’m starving” he calls as you exit into the hallway and make your way downstairs.

“Hey, I was looking to re-book the room from last night” you say to the receptionist who you recognized from last night. Suppose she got stuck here as well, you wonder if she’d gotten any sleep.

“For how many more nights?” she asks.

“How long do you think this storm is going to last?” You ask.

“At least a few more days, but then the roads will have to be cleared, so maybe a week? We can book you in for two more nights then go from there though, no one else will be coming in”

“That’d be great,” you say, taking out your credit card. “What about food, is there any way we can get some stuff to make sandwiches or something?” you ask

“Well the culinary staff was trapped here by the storm, another reason why so many rooms were booked, so they’ll be able to have food sent up.” You nod, the hotel was upscale and you hated to think how expensive the food was going to be, but what choice did you have?

“It's past breakfast, but we may have some spare sandwiches leftover, let me just go check.” she offers, returning a few minutes later with a couple of boxes.

“Thank you so much!” you say taking the boxed up food from her.

“Anything else I can help you with?”

“Oh yes” you say, “booze, can I buy that here?”

“That, we have plenty of!” she smiles.

~~~~~

You re-enter the room with the boxed up breakfasts, a case of beer and two bottles of wine

“Here food” you say, sliding the boxes off the beer and onto the counter next to the fridge.“We missed breakfast, so it’s probably cold, and I booked the room for another two nights, but we can go from there” you say, reiterating the receptionist's words as you place the drinks in the fridge.

“Planning on sharing that or?” he laughs watching you strategically maneuver the booze into the fridge

“Hey, I get a week off work, I'm going to be drinking. Do I wish it was on a beach in sunny south Carolina? Yes, but this will have to do, and I hate drinking alone so congratulations you’ve just been conscripted” You say, as he empties out one of the breakfasts onto a plate placing it in the microwave for a few minutes.

“Here. Do you want this? You say peeling the sliced ham off your sandwich” waving it infront of his face.

“Not a fan of ham?” he asks, taking it and adding it into his own.

“Not a fan of meat in general, I’m a vegetarian”

“Course you are.” he laughs.

“Bold words coming from a guy wearing a baseball hat inside, in the middle of winter” you say, throwing a balled up napkin at his head.

“So what exactly do you do? Santi never said.” he asks, leaving you to question what Santiago had said about you.

“I’m a doctor, well almost a doctor one more year of residency, hopefully” you say, crossing your fingers.

“Shit, aren’t you kinda young to be a doctor?” he asks, looking you up and down with raised eyebrows.

“Older than I look, but thank you. How about you?”

“I was a pilot, me and Pope served together for a while, but I’m mainly just teaching now. How’d you two meet by the way? I’ve never seen you round base before, I’m sure I’d remember you hanging around” he says.

“He basically lived at my house growing up, well until he went into the military when I was in middle school. ”

“I thought you said you weren’t young” he laughs “So you didn't serve?”

“No, my brother did though, he was a few years older than Santi but they were inseparable.” you state, preparing yourself for the imminent conversation.

“Who?” Frankie asks, slightly offended that Pope had a secret best friend he never introduced to him.

“His name was Parker '' you say, hoping the past tense clues Frankie in.

“Ya I’ve met Parker! Good guy what branch is he in these days?” he says, not picking up on your word selection or how your mouth hangs slightly ajar or how your eyes have gone vacant.

“Was in” is all you say, you avert your gaze staring down at the floor “he passed five years ago in active duty”

“Shit, I’m sorry I…” he stumbles over his words trying to form a coherent sentence.

“Not your fault how were you supposed to know, besides I'm sure you’ve lost your fair share of people.” you say offering him a not very convincing, but reassuring smile. You let the awkwardness hang in the air, not wanting to speak first.

“What... kind of doctor are you?” he says, hoping to cut the tension he’d caused.

“Medical, diagnostics.” you say, exhaling as the easiness you felt around Franki came back.

“So like House?” He asks.

“Ya cane and all.” you laugh, his lopsided grin having returned to his face, as he leans in to grab your plate.

“Hey, I uh.. I need to make a phone call.” He says, washing the dishes in the sink.

“I'll make myself scarce, give you some privacy. Is it fine if I'm in the shower or did you want me to fully vacate the premise? I can go down to the gym for a bit.” you offer.

“Showers perfect.” He says, mentally questioning his word choice there. He waits to hear the water run before pulling out his phone and dialing his mother who was currently watching his daughter for what was only supposed to be a few days.

You let the water wash over you turning on some music to drown out the conversation Frankie was having, not wanting to pry on his personal life. You did find yourself wondering who he was calling just simple curiosity, nothing else. You had decided you liked Frankie despite the rocky start, the more time you spent with him the more you felt like you'd known him for years. You could see why he and Santiago got along so well they were two sides of the same coin, his calm nicely balancing out Santiago's rashness. Or should you call him Pope? What kind of nickname was that, and Santiago was anything but a saint. You made a mental note to ask Frankie for the origin stories later he may be more forthcoming about it than Santiago. Lathering your hair you close your eyes, allowing Frankie’s image to come to the forefront of your mind. He had an old beauty, a kind of beauty that was suited to a ruler of a long forgotten empire. You begin to feel the water run cold, had you really been in the shower that long? You turn off the tap and dry yourself off redonning your sweats and tying the Clash shirt into a crop. As you exit the bedroom you’re met at the door by Frankie who hands you a cup of coffee.

“Thanks” you say smiling up at him.

“Take it as an apology for being an ass yesterday, I was tired and shouldn’t have thrown a tantrum about it, you don’t control the weather”

“Well I guess I should apologize as well for not listening to you, especially considering you’re the one with training in navigating radars.”

The rest of the day is spent in relative silence breaking into conversation every once in a while about nothing in particular. You sit on the couch reading while he sits in the chair across from you book in hand as the news plays faintly in the background. The storm had been dubbed “snowmageddon” by the anchors, not particularly innovative but it got the point across, 20cm had fallen and another 30 was being predicted you groaned internally thinking about how long it was gonna take you to clear off your car. At least you'd have military help. Dinner comes and goes and he doesn't ask you many questions, unsurprising considering how the last conversion had turned out. Instead you tell him about the weirdest cases you’d ever seen come through the hospital and he tells you about the incidents that got him and Santi sent to the hospital.

“Alright I'm going to turn in” he says, as you look up from the rabbit hole you'd currently found yourself stuck in.

“Shit ya good call” you say closing your phone and rubbing your eyes. Once again he beats you to the bed, giving him a prime position to watch in amusement as you dig through your bag.

“Lost something? Seriously, how deep is that bag? What are you looking for?” he inquires.

“Normal pyjamas” you mutter, all concentration currently being used to find something appropriate to sleep in.

“What pray tell are normal pyjamas?” he asks, a confused look plastered across his face.

“Let's just say a certain king of sleepwear was packed for someone who was suppose to be at the wedding”

“Who?” he asks.

“Ah ha!” you cry victoriously, pulling out your day-to-day sleepwear. You exit the bathroom in the silk sleep set you’d gotten a few years back. Frankie’s eyes widen slightly when he sees you emerge, the pyjamas leaving little to the imagination. If those were your normal pyjamas he didn't want to think about what the other ones were. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable by coming off as a creep. Which he was already feeling like by ogling you as you bent over the sink spitting out your toothpaste. His eyes dart down to look at his hands as you walk around the bed to bed, only looking up once the covers are pulled up over you. He turns off the lamp and settles into the mattress, placing his hands on his chest and closing his eyes.

“Please for the love of god, stop moving” he mumbles after 15 minutes of patiently waiting for you to stop wriggling. Your eyes open as you shift again, completely aware of how annoying you must be to him.

“I know I'm sorry, I‘m just..” you move one more time, balling your fists up and slamming them into the mattress in frustration.

“Not comfy” he finishes for you, eyes opening staring up at the ceiling.

“Ya especially since someone took my side of the bed” you bemoan.

“Look, you’ve already slept wrapped around me once, so you can... do it again. If it’s the easiest way for you to sleep.” he says hoping the offer comes off as sincere, and not weird. You chew your lower lip for a second before accepting the fact that it was the only way you’d be able to sleep. He lifts his arms above his head allowing you to position yourself comfortably on top of him, before lowering them down. One hand on his stomach and the other wrapped around your shoulder.

“Don’t even think about trying...” you start, eyes batting sleepily up at him.

“I know you don’t know me well, but i'm not like that. It's not good or fun unless everyones fully and consensually on board.” With that you ease into him, trusting his words. Breathing deeply you drift off to sleep to the smell of clean laundry that you’d come to associate with Frankie.

Day 3

“Hey I'm going to the gym if you need to make a call or whatever” you say, pulling on your sneakers, feeling refreshed from the good sleeps you’d had the past two nights.

“Thanks,” he says, watching you leave before calling to check in on his daughter.

“Hey mom how is she? Good good ya, put her on would ya? Hey darling how are you! Yes I'm going to be home soon. Were just stuck in a big snow storm, did you see it? I wish you were here then we could build a snowman together! Yes just like Elsa and Anna. Yes we can watch them when I get home and absolutely I will try and save you a snowball. Alright, okay, I love you.” He says, a few minutes was more than he’d expected from the kid, toddlers aren’t known for their keen telecommunication skills after all.

“Hey mom, thanks again for watching her. This storm came outta nowhere. We're going to miss the wedding, I know they’re gonna be pissed. That’s not a swear Mom! No, I'm not alone. One of Santis friends she's a doctor. Yes, I mean I don’t know! Why does it matter? Look, I'm hanging up now. I am. No I won't be doing that I love you, I'll call later.” he hangs up shaking his head. Despite what everyone around him thought, the last thing on his mind was dating, his kid was his number one, scratch that, his only priority especially since her mother disappeared in the night. Leaving nothing but a note about having other reasons to live. Whatever the hell that meant. He hears the key unlock the door and watches as you re-enter, not stopping to make conversation, bee-lining straight for the shower. Knowing he’d have a good half hour to kill he dials his phone again.

“Hey Pope” he says, taking the opportunity to call his friend and deliver the bad news.

“Hey ‘Fish where the hell are you guys?” he shouts from the other end, evidently in a crowded room.

“Trapped by the storm, we're not gonna make it.”

“Shit Gen’s gonna lose it, and Stella if it wasn’t for her four sisters Y/N would be in the wedding party they were roommates for years.” He stresses.

“Damn, ya man i'm really sorry, she's in the shower, but I can pass the phone to her when she's out?” Frankie offers.

“No man, don't bother her. I'll text her in a bit. Hey you guys sharing a room?” he questions, the agenda behind it obvious.

“Wasn’t much of a choice, rooms were all booked up.”

“You're sleeping on the floor I hope” A protective tone taking over.

“You know my back’s bad Pope.” he explains calmly, hoping to de-escalate the situation.

“Catfish you better keep those hands to yourself, she's not one of your nightly conquests”

“Man I haven’t been like that since my kid came along” He chuckles, knowing full well that those days were long behind him.

“I'm a serious ‘Fish, she's too good for you, and she's in no place to be fucked over by another guy alright?”

“Look I know she'd never go for me Pope and I'm flattered you think she would. Glad i'm still handsome in your eyes.I’ll call you later” he laughs, ending the conversation on a lighter note.

“Hey” you say, pulling your Boston University sweater over your head, drying out your hair with a towel.

“Pope says hi” Frankie says, hanging up the phone

“What's the nickname mean?” you question, ready to get to the bottom of it.

“That's top secret information” he taunts, shaking the phone at you.

“Oh I'm sure I could figure out a way to get it out of you.” you smirk, raising your eyebrows

“Hey! I have military training!” he exclaims, offended at the insinuation.

“Militarys got nothing on me.” you retort, slapping him on the shoulder as you pass by.

“Well, if the plan is to ply me with alcohol, it may just work” he confesses.

“Perfect” you say, heading to the fridge opening up the wine bottle “let the games begin” you say tossing him a beer bottle watching as he uses a lighter to open it before bringing it to his lips.

“So tell me what does Pope mean?” you ask after a few hours of meaningless conversations and playing a drinking game that went along with the forensic files repeats you were watching. “Is it a dick thing” you whisper yell, causing Frankie to burst out laughing.

“Why? You wanna know what it looks like?” He asks forehead creased the trace of laughter still etched on his face.

“Ew No! but I am asking if it looks like a Pope?” you say trying to hide your amusement with a stern look.

“Which Pope?” Frankie asks in an equally serious tone, curious as to where you were going with this.

“Francis?” you ask.

“Nope” He answers after pausing for a moment.

“Fred?” You ask, now entrapped in a bizarre game of guess who, but in reference to what holy figure most resembled your friends penis.

“Was there a Pope named Fred?” He asks unsuccessfully, stifling a laugh.

“Probably? There were like three Popes at once at one point in time.”

“No his dick doesn't look like the Pope, now can we please stop talking about my best friend's penis!” he exclaims.

“Fine, but this isn’t over.” you say chewing your lip trying to think of other possible explanations when a phone ringing interrupts you thought.

“Shit, Sorry I have to take this,'' he says, pulling out his phone and walking to the next room, forgetting to close the door, leaving you to inadvertently eavesdrop on his conversation.

“Good night sweety I love you to the moon and back I'll be home soon.”

Your eyes go wide as you feel your stomach sink, of course he was married, he was too nice, too easy, something had to have been off. A ick comes over you at the thought of being unknowingly draped over a married man, and you suddenly begin questioning Frankies motives.

“Sorry about that. It's my daughter she uh, I didn’t say goodnight to her last night and she missed it” he says with a slight chuckle, pride evident on his face.

“How old is she?” you ask smiling at how he lit up at being asked about his kid.

“Three” he says, grabbing another beer and grunting slightly as he sits back on the floor next to you.

“Good age” You offer, shaking off the feeling of betrayal and disappointment that had come over you for a brief moment.

“Ya she's perfect” he beams.

“I bet, I mean I don’t know what your wife looks like, but if she's got your eyes watch out world.” You offer turning to face him only to see that his smile had faded, replaced instead by a somber hurt.

“Her mothers not in the picture” He says, clearing his throat and taking a long drink.

“Shit Frankie I'm sorry” you say quickly, feeling like a prize idiot for making assumptions about his character.

“Hey I brought up your dead brother, only seems fair you bring up my ex who abandoned us.” He says with a shrug. “Don’t, don’t look at me like that” He says, shaking his head and knitting his brows together tired of being looked at like he was broken. It was horrible when it happened. It was fucking shitty that she had left her daughter without a care, but now? Hell, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Watching his daughter grow up was worth it.

“Fuck” you say, scrunching up your face “I hate when people do that to me.”

“You need another drink?” he offers, hoping to ease the sudden awkwardness into the room, one he was accustomed to after telling his dates about his kid, not that this was a date.

“Ya I need it to wash the taste of foot out of my mouth” you laugh, feeling worse than when your brother was inadvertently brought up.

“Seriously don't worry about it. Speaking of a palette cleanser you wanna watch a movie or something?” he says pouring the rest of the wine into your glass, before grabbing another drink out the fridge for himself.

“Ya but it's gotta be horror, the only thing i'm in the mood for.”

“Didn’t think bringing up my ex was that scary.” he laughs, handing you the glass.

“No, but talking about Santiago's penis was.” You deadpan, causing Frankie to snort out his drink. “What? Do all the girls say that about it? A real nightmare?” you continue, giggling as he coughs through a laugh. “Was it the inspiration for the creature from the black lagoon?” for some reason the stupid bit your doing causes Frankie to double over subsequently encouraging your own laughing fit. After the ache in your side subsides Frankie sits down on the couch next to you. Using his sleeve to wipe any spillage from his beard.

“Any preference?” you ask, leaning your head back against the couch. He shakes his head. “Alright, the Conjuring it is! I gotta pee first though, need anything before we start?” you ask, walking towards the washroom.

“Just you.” he calls out, as the door closes behind you. Fuck, why the hell did he say that. He shakes his head at how desperate it sounded. Jesus christ, he was embarrassing.

You were just tipsy enough that the bathroom's bright lights made you feel wobbly. You cross your arms as you pee, thinking about the words you’d just heard, about how he needed you. Well maybe that was a reach, but it was okay to pretend just for a night? In all honesty, even though this wasn't a date, it was definitely the best time you'd had with a guy… ever, something about him was just so easy. You flush the toilet and open the door washing your hands, hotels were so weird, why wasn't the sink in with the toilet? You felt like you needed to wipe the handle down after every use.

You flop back onto the couch next to him, closer than you’d been when you left, but leaving enough space between you. After a few jump scares that catch even the pilot off guard the two of you found yourself snuggled into each other. You knew the movie was getting to him, because the arm wrapped around your shoulder pulled you closer into his side whenever the ominous music began to play. He wouldn't say the movie was getting to him per say, it was just in his nature to protect others. Even if it was just a stpid movie he wanted to make sure you felt safe. After the movie ends you quickly separate from each other and clear up the glasses, leaving them to ‘soak’ overnight. Frankie gets to the bathroom first, again. Thirsty, you wander back out to the kitchen grabbing a glass and filling it with water jumping when you think you see a shadow move out the corner of your eye. It was strange, how you loved horror so much while watching it but the second it turned off, any sounds, or hat rack or shadow scared the living daylights out of you. At least this time there would be another person with you. After getting ready for bed you switch off the lights and make your way to the bed.

“What are you doing?” Frankie asks, watching you lift up the bedskirt peering under the bed. “Are you seriously checking under the bed right now?” He laughs, unable to get over how you, a medical professional was afraid of ghosts.

“Better safe than sorry!” you exclaim eyes wide as your head pops up.

“You can't believe in this shit can you?”

“Hey man you get sleep paralysis then tell me that shit isn’t plausible” you respond pointing a finger at him, before pushing yourself off your knees and up onto the bed.

You crawl under the covers and sit up parting your hair to braid it before going to bed.

“Can I ask you a weird favour” he asks, you panic slightly, fuck he was too good to be true, no way a guy was that sweet without an alterior motive.

“Yes, but proceed with extreme caution” you say.

“Can you teach me how to braid hair? I want to be able to do my daughter's hair but I’m pretty terrible at it. Her teacher once asked if she'd gotten caught in a bush on the way in.” Your heart jumps slightly, at the sincere revelation. How, how could one guy be this sweet, and thoughtful and not creepy?

“Of course I can show you.” you say and you proceed to give him a step by step tutorial, followed by a demonstration prior to actually letting him have at your hair so he can try and replicate the motions. Once he got the motion down you’d mistakenly tried to show him how to french-braid it down from the top.

“Be honest doc, how bad is it.” He says.

“Well, maybe we shouldn't have tried a french braid quite yet.” you say laughing feeling the matted mess currently on your head. You turn upon hearing him groan, watching as he leans back into the pillow bringing his hands up to hide his face.

“For someone who's a pilot i'm shocked you can't do this.” you say, hand reaching up to salvage your hair.

“Are you judging me?” he says, sitting back up when he sees you struggling to untangle the mess he’d made.

“Maybe a little.” Your breath hitches when you feel his hand grazed against yours. You drop it to the side upon contact allowing his fingers to work gently at removing the knots.

“Are pilots supposed to be good at braiding?” he asks.

“I just assumed if you could weave in and out of the sky you'd be good with your hands.” you laugh as he frees the last of your hair from the prison he'd made. He watches as you effortlessly put your hair back up into tidy braids.

“You make it look so easy,” he says.

“Well practice makes perfect, but look on the brightside, now you have a sure fire pick up line that'll work on all the MILFs youll be dating!” you exclaim turning back to smile at him.

“Malo '' he mutters, pushing your shoulder slightly as you giggle, dramatically falling back onto the bed and pulling the covers up over you. It doesn't take a moment before you're back around him, breathing silently, and fast asleep. He wasn’t far behind you, he never used to sleep well in hotels, or at all really, not after the mission, but something about this place made it easy. He's sure it's nothing to do with the idle hand on his chest or the rhythmic beating of the heart belonging to the person draped over him.

#frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie x y/n #catfish x you #catfish x reader #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #in a week #part 2

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metaborderlines · 2 years

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Top 10 Fan Fics and Why

Inspired by the post from @saygoodnightlove about fan fic recommendations, I want to know as @juli-81 asked, “Whatfics made you fall in love with Outlander in a new way this year?” My first answer was “Power Jam” by @isthisclever and I’ll stick with it, because of the way this writer uses detail to make things new, especially the love story that never gets old, Jamie meets Claire, this time at a roller rink in Edinburgh. The other nine, in no particular order, sprinkled I see with many WIPs:

#2, “Wee Herbs” by @jesuisprest. OK, I have a problem with feisty Jenny, always barging in to “protect” Jamie. In “Wee Herbs,” Jenny is none too pleased to find that her brother has married the proprietor of a weed shop [it’s medical marijuana,Jenny] in California, and that California Claire has a child (Fergus, age 6, blooming nicely in West Coast soil). Claire fights fire with fire, beats Jenny at the primal battle of “family first.” WIP.

#3 “Lovers in a Dangerous Time” by @sassenachthroughtime. Is there a more romantic scene in fan fic than the one in this story when Claire, unwilling trophy wife to Fronk in oppressively staid South Carolina society, helps new next-door neighbor Jamie with clean-up after his housewarming party and he whispers, Scottish burr on fire, “Dance wi’me?” WIP.

#4 “Game Changer” by @the2ofusnow. Jamie’s the rookie of the year with the NY Mets; Claire is the team doctor, written with emotional intelligence. WIP.

#5 “Atonement” by @smashing-teacups, for its quiet scenes in the hospital when horribly-injured Jamie and compassionate-nurse Claire get to know one another. The writer gets the most out of dialogue, small moments like the one when Claire washes Jamie’s hair.

#6 “Market Price” by @desperationandgin. Both Jamie and Claire are witty and strong, despite (of course) having weathered some life-challenges, and they’re funny and sweet, unable to keep their hands off one another.

#7 “Saorsa” by @scapegrace-74. Jamie escapes Black Jack by touching the stones, lands in the midst of WW II at Lallybroch whose chatelaine is a pregnant widow, Claire, the legatee of the Randall estate. The way the two come together, inevitably, is told with grace and verve—a description that fits “anything by” @scapegrace-74, especially the stories in the “Metric Universe.” Thanks also to @scapegrace-74 for pointing to a perfect novella, “The Stars Will Sing for Us” by @fallofrain. No drama, just strong characterization when Dr. Claire moves to Broch Morda and falls in love with, guess, the sweetest, hottest guy in town; he’s good with horses too. No bland inevitability: the writer allows the reader to discover the characters as they discover one another.

#8 “Loving Jamie” by @JillianK, an 18thcentury story in which Jamie has lost inheritance when he’s rendered mute from an axe blow (Dougal?) The MacKenzie brothers arrange a marriage to Claire. The story has a fairytale quality leavened with humor, e.g ch 7 when Jamie wonders if his new wife loves him and Clarence nudges him not to get maudlin. “Christ. Now he was taking life lessons from a mule.”

#9 “Something to Believe In” by @caitrinwrites. Claire is a chef in Santa Fe and when a Scottish distiller turns up to purvey his wares at her resto, he very much resembles her daughter Brianna, age 5. WIP. This story of introducing Jamie to his lost child shows signs of rising to meet the top of the class in the genre, “Downhill” by @wickedgoodbooks (who can forget five-year-old Willie on “The Puffin Trip” with his reunited parents, Claire and Jamie?) and “Flood My Mornings” by @bonnie_wee_swordsman (Jamie’s observations about the mores of America in the 1950, all the tut-tutting about working mothers, and his comment about how the Pope can just get out of women’s way when it comes to reproductive choice). And “Written in the Stones” by @lenny9987, one of the best father-and-child reunion stories in which Jamie arrives at Craig na dun and reclaims Claire and ten-year-old Brianna, in part when she teaches him to bake chocolate chip cookies at Mrs. Graham’s house during a thunderstorm.

More than a top ten, I can’t omit “One Summer” by @missclairebelle, the glorious variant on Jamie and Claire as a bantering couple who would give Hepburn and Tracy a run for their money in their heyday. And “Jimjeran” by @betweensceneswriter, which manages to convey new love in the most heated yet nuanced fashion. Jamie and Claire are Peace Corps volunteers on a Pacific island, which shows among other things that this story is truly universal. And then there’s “In My Daughter’s Eyes” by @preciouslittleingenue, Jamie as a riding therapist to autistic Faith, four-year-old child of Claire and Fronk, who rejected his “imperfect” child. And You’ll Be in Mo Chridheby @CrossingInStyle. Claire goes to Africa with Uncle Lamb and meets Tarzan, who is, guess ... Another good one by this prolific writer, “First Time Here?”Jamie is a bartender in Inverness who asks the question of Claire on her sequential bad dates. Nice past-present cross-stich. And “Back to You”by @balfeheughlywed. Claire is Leery’s roommate at Edinburgh U…but the writing is good. Jenny is the Worst. And “Queen’s Gambit”by @AbbeDebeaupre. Lord John is private eye, Jamie trains polo ponies… And the “Basia Mille” series by @JRC10…

This list is threatening to exceed top 20, so many good stories. Thank you, writers!

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 4 years

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Core Drive - Clean: 1.04

A/N: Having conquered the tip of the iceberg, Zeke gets Logan to take a deeper dive beneath the surface, forcing him to face the things that he hadn’t even realize were stunting his progress. This one honestly took a lot out of me to write, but it’s nothing compared to the next- and last- two pieces in this first section. Yikes. Hang in there, folks.

Warning: mention of suicide, drug use and addiction, alcohol, depression and language.

Word Count: 7,000

“Did you want to end things that night, Logan?”

Ezekiel’s question cut through the static filling Logan’s ears, and drew his focus away from the wide leaves of the potted plant hanging behind the man’s desk. It’s called a nerve plant, Zeke had told him during one of their first one on one meetings. It had caught Logan’s eye then and had become a default focal point for him anytime he found himself occupying the purple armchair opposite his counselor. For him, it was easier to open up and answer difficult questions if half of his brain was busy following the weblike patterns branching off of the leaves’ sturdy midrib in thin wisps curling and reaching for the edges. It’s got some pretentious scientific name, Zeke had gone on, gesturing behind himself at the plant with the arm of his glasses pinched between thumb and forefinger. But I like “nerve plant”. You know, if I watered it with black water those veins would turn black. Interesting, isn’t it?

Logan blinked, the intricate network of spidery white veins winding through the dark green foliage vanishing with the memory of Zeke’s explanation of the plant. He glanced down at his left forearm where his own web of veins used to be much more visible; purplish blue threads unraveling under the skin. He thought about them turning black like Zeke’s plant and it made him cringe. With a shake of his head he looked back up to answer the question. “No.”

They’d been discussing the events that had sent Logan down his current path, specifically the night of his first overdose- the night of Juliet and William’s wedding. There were things that had proved easier to share in group meetings; the dynamics of his relationship with his father, the debaucherous things he’d gotten up to in the park, the fact that he’d first experimented with painkillers after the death of his mother had left a jagged hole in his heart that grew larger each day until the Vicodin he had leftover from having his wisdom teeth removed showed him a way to close it. Daddy issues. Promiscuity. Addiction via dentistry. All things that he had in common with many of the men and women he sat in group sessions with, and therefore safe and simple to share. But just as he suspected that he’d never know everything about Dawn or Brian or any of them- Not even Miguel- there were parts of his past and his recovery that belonged only to him, that he could share only when he sat where he was sitting now. Especially the parts that included you. He blinked again, the residual phantom wisps of the nerve plant’s veins disappearing behind his closed lids, your tear streaked face filling his memory instead.

I’ve never been that scared, Logan. Never.

Your voice filled his mind and reached down into his chest, just like it did when you spoke those words to him that night, and the corners of his eyes started to sting. I never meant to do that to you. I never meant for you to be hurt by this.

“I never meant to…”

He hadn’t realized that words were coming out of his mouth, and he trailed off as he lifted his face to lock eyes with Zeke. With a sigh he continued. “No, I didn’t want to die that night, I just…” He returned his gaze to the plant with a shake of his head as everything he felt that night surged to the surface. Fuck.

Across from Logan, Zeke uncrossed his long legs and leaned forward to brace his elbows on the desk. There was a near constant covering of handwritten notes, printed pages and drawings that littered Zeke’s workspace. At first Logan turned his nose up to see such clutter in an office- a space that was slated for productivity. In the beginning of his time here, he felt himself judging the man for his disorganized piles and non alphabetized book shelves bursting with more books than they were built to hold, but he quickly realized that he hadn’t a leg to stand on. My office at Delos is...was fucking pristine and it didn’t keep me in line. The pages beneath Zeke’s elbows rustled as he adjusted their position, removing his glasses and folding his arms. “Logan. You know I’m not gonna force you to talk about it. This isn’t some eat your peas or you can’t leave the table bullshit, you know that.”

That got a strangled chuckle from Logan. “Good. I always fuckin’ hated peas.”

Zeke blew air through his nostrils in a laugh and nodded. “Yeah, me too. My old man would always force me to eat every goddamn pea. Only made me hate them more.”

“There a point coming soon here, Zeke?” I know there is, so let’s get to it. Logan shifted his weight, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head to the side. “I know I’m not here to talk about vegetables.”

“Not unless vegetables were what tipped the scales that night, no.” Zeke was a professional at walking the thin line between sarcastic and asshole, directly down the narrow avenue to the capital T truth. “Look, Logan.” He pressed his hands together, lacing the fingers of his left with those of his right, pointers steepled and thumbs tucked into his palms. “You’ve been here four and a half months now. And you’re really doing great. I see it, and I know you see it too.”

Logan had to agree. Aside from the fact that he was in the best shape of his life, he was starting to allow himself the time and space and mess it took to heal. He was learning that asking for help wasn’t a weakness, and that feeling things- even the painful things- was part of what it meant to be alive. He learned that burying those things in bullshit only allowed the hurt to fester and spread into every other part of him. It was a short term solution, the relief as fleeting and dangerous as any other poison that he pumped himself full of. “Thanks, Zeke. I-”

Ezekiel pulled his palms apart and held one hand up, cutting Logan off. “You’re doing really great, but…” One eyebrow arched as he tilted his head, and Logan knew what was coming next. “But unless you get into the thick of it? The real thick of it?” He placed both hands back on his desktop, his piercing hazel-green eyes sharply focused on Logan’s. “You’re just spinnin’ your wheels. And I know that’s not you.”

Zeke was right again. Logan had also learned that Ezekiel and Miguel knew him better than almost anyone else in the world. Better than anyone who worked for him, better than his father- even better than Jules. Ache sliced through his chest as he added his sister to the list of strangers in his life. It wasn’t always like that. We used to… we were close once. He knew that there had been more than a few things that had driven wedges into the cracks in his relationship with Juliet, but he also knew that none of them were nearly as detrimental to it as William had been. The familiar stinging in the corner of his eyes and the tight clenching in his chest that always came along with thoughts of the seemingly innocuous blonde haired, blue-eyed shit bag that had destroyed what was left of his happiness threatened to take hold.

But just as quickly as the pain swept through his heart, your name floated through his mind and he closed his eyes. She knows me. He let that thought wash over him like a wave, quelling the smoldering embers that never seemed to cool completely. It had been almost five months since he’d seen or spoken to you. 136 days. He’d kept track of more than his progress since arriving in North Carolina’s Outer Banks, counting the days since the last time he’d felt your palm pressed to his chest or your lips brushing the skin behind his ear as you tried to keep him anchored in the moment with you.

That’s it, that’s what she...why she was… she was my anchor. It wasn’t clear to him in the beginning, because he wasn’t looking for something so solid, so grounding and stable. He wasn’t looking for understanding or acceptance when he met you, but he’d found all of those things just the same. I just didn’t know it then… not like… not like I do now. Not even when he added a photo of you to his pocket before venturing into the park. He closed his eyes, letting out a breath. I just couldn’t see it then.

.. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Logan ran the edge of his front teeth over his bottom lip as he stepped closer to where you sat, thumb and forefinger of his left hand slipping beneath the thin gold chain around your right ankle. Goddamn, she’s… He heard you suck in a breath as the rest of his digits bent to wrap around the base of your foot. Watching as the glow of the underwater lights shimmied over the skin of your submerged shins, he felt himself give into the trancelike pull you had on him whenever he touched you. His right palm emerged from the water to slide up your other leg, fingertips pressing lightly into the muscle of your calf before climbing over your knee. Can’t keep my hands off her. Your sigh turned into a hum as he gently squeezed your thigh. And she doesn’t want me to.

“What are you doing, Delos?” From your tone he could tell that you were smirking, and before he even looked back up at you, he could see the way you were looking at him.

Logan groaned quietly when he glanced up to find the exact expression on your face that he’d imagined. Eyes lingering on your lips as you pressed them together before letting them slowly part again, he eased his right hand up to your hip, thumb dragging along the elastic of your bathing suit bottoms. “You sure you don’t wanna join me for a swim?” He tightened the grip he had on your ankle and curled his fingers into the crease where your thigh met your hip.

Your lips fell open and one eyebrow arched high as you tilted your head. A breathy sigh slipped out and for a second you were speechless, completely at the mercy of his hands on your body. Fuck, she...when she… It was one of his favorite sounds, and knowing how to pull it from you was one of his favorite skills. He groaned again as you reached forward to sweep the damp hair from his face, and suddenly it was you who had the upper hand, mischief twinkling like stars in your eyes. “Wasn’t planning on getting wet tonight Logan.”

“That so?” You shook your head, biting your bottom lip. Goddamn. “And,” He moved the hand that was at your hip around to the small of your back. “What makes you think staying out of the pool means you’re not gonna get wet, hmm?” He still had your ankle wrapped in his left hand, and he used it to open your legs wider, stepping as far between them as he could as he pushed you closer to the edge of the pool. “You tellin’ me you came here tonight just to sit there’n-” He leaned in, brushing his nose along your throat before dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin there, your hand dropping from the back of his head to squeeze the top of his shoulder. “Tease me?”

You shrugged. “You tellin’ me you had something else in mind?”

Plenty. His answer came in the form of a tug on your ankle, the hand at your back sliding under you as he pulled you into the water and against his chest. Your surprised shout of his name only spurred him on more, and he knew that you actually weren’t surprised at all even as the splash soaked your hair. You laughed, eyes wide as you wound your legs around his waist and draped your arms around his neck, and he pushed away from the side of the pool and out into the middle. He adjusted his hold on you with one hand, bringing the other up to your face. Thumb trailing over your lips, he stared straight at them, speaking your name. “I was thinkin’ we start here and…” Without fully removing his thumb, he brought his lips to yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. He could feel the warmth of your sudden exhale and it caused his smile to grow devilish. “See what happens.” He didn’t wait then, resuming motion and crashing his lips to yours.

You responded immediately, kissing him hard as you gripped a fistful of his hair, twisting the strands around your knuckles. The hand he had on your cheek slid down to your throat, and he felt your moan vibrate against his palm. Jesus, I… Your thighs tightened around his body as you locked your ankles behind him, the water rippling as you rolled your hips into his. Fuck, she’s… this is… Your free hand pressed to the center of his chest, the tip of your middle finger tracing the dip of his clavicle, and he couldn’t hold back a groan. No one makes me feel like this.

In the three and a half months since he’d met you, Logan hadn’t stopped seeing other people. He’d even taken someone to a gallery opening earlier that same night. Being seen out with a different date all over town was what everyone expected of Logan Delos, L.A.s most famous bachelor, and it was what he’d come to expect of himself, so he’d chosen a reliable date for the evening. But he’s not here with me right now, he’s not… He hadn’t stopped seeing other people, but he had stopped sleeping with them, stopped inviting them back to the pool or the guest house. Because they don’t… none of them are… He pulled away then, looking into your eyes as you stared back. What is it about her that I…

“Hey.” You dropped your legs from his waist but kept your body flush to his. Logan kept both hands on you, keeping you close.

He grinned, dipping his chin down to catch your lips in another quick kiss. You gasped against his lips as he answered. “Hey.”

“So,” You reached behind yourself to untie the neck strap of your halter top, the dark material falling forward to expose your chest. Fuck me. He watched as you moved to the second strap, completely removing your bathing suit top and handing it to him. “What else did you have in mind?”

Logan had shown you exactly what else crossed his mind then, tossing your top aside and reaching under the water to remove your bottoms while never breaking eye contact. Within seconds of asking your question he’d given you his answer, covering your mouth with his to devour the sighs that his fingers coaxed out of you.

The two of you had stayed in the pool even after you’d collapsed into his shoulder, neither of you wanting to give up the way that the warm water felt as it lapped against your skin. The conversation had drifted through several topics before landing on his upcoming business trip. He mentioned that he would be taking some investors to the park for their first time. Wish I was takin’ her though...showin’ her around instead of…

“Does it ever scare you?” You straddled his waist, your arms draped over his shoulders as the two of you floated together. The bright silver light of the nearly full moon was muted behind a filmy cluster of clouds, but it reflected off of the cool water, shining on your wet skin and illuminating your eyes.

Logan tilted his head to the side, regripping your thigh and adjusting the arm that he had wrapped around your back to hold you more securely. “Does what scare me?”

You brought one hand up from his shoulder to the back of his head, water dripping from your fingertips as they threaded through his thick hair. He closed his eyes for half a second as your nails scratched lightly over his scalp, a breath escaping his slack smile as he blinked them back open again. Goddamn that’s fucking... “The park. How real it all is I mean.” What? He frowned and drew his eyebrows together questioningly, prompting you to continue. “That’s…” You sighed. “I mean, I know that’s the point, right? That it feels like you’re really…” you twirled your fingers absently in the hair at the base of his neck, your eyes focused somewhere in the sprawling darkness over his shoulder, teeth biting into your plump bottom lip. “That you’re really doing whatever it is you’re…”

Logan leaned back so that he could intercept your eye-line, taking his hand from your back to gently turn your face towards his own. “With the Hosts you mean?” He shook his head, his wet touch trailing down your throat to dip back under the water and find a home on your body. “They’re just dolls, they can’t hurt anyone so there’s nothin’ to be-”

“No, that’s not,” you let one hand slide down to the center of his chest, dropping your eyes down to follow your fingers as they spread out over his skin. “That’s not what I meant, Logan.” You brought your eyes back up and when you did he thought he saw a splash of concern coloring their depths. He squeezed your thigh, grip biting into your flesh with light pressure. “I mean… is it really good for it to feel that real? Does it scare you to think that it might be too realistic? That someone could get lost in it?”

Logan thought back to his first trip to the park; the way that the completely immersive experience blew his mind even knowing everything that he did about the Hosts and the synthetic world that they populated. He could still taste the adrenaline on his tongue, potent and pure like a shot of undiluted absinthe, put there by the click of a pistol hammer locking into place, the barrel aimed point blank at his chest. It felt like the bullet was swimming a slow backstroke through the hot, dusty desert air, and Logan felt his pupils double in size, felt himself tense up and brace for the impact. He swallowed that shot of adrenaline, and it set his teeth buzzing, sped up the tempo of his heartbeat. He knew it wasn’t real, but everything in his body was telling him that he was about to die. In that moment he froze, unable to even flinch as the smirking outlaw delivered some scripted line and pulled the trigger. A loud pop and a small cloud of gunpowder smoke registered with him just milliseconds before a blunt blow to his breastbone made him stumble backwards.

“It’s designed to make you think,” he squeezed the bottoms of your thighs, “make you feel like it’s all... real. But it only works if everyone accepts that it isn’t. It’s,” he licked his lips and squinted his eyes. “Sure, it’s probably not good for everyone. But when the stakes feel… when they seem like they really matter? That’s when people find out who they really are.”

.. .. .. .. .. .. ..

He didn’t tell you then that he safeguarded himself every time he set foot in the park by smuggling in a photo of someone close to him, someone that he could focus on to remind himself of what was actually real. Usually, it was a photo of his sister, the person that Logan felt closest to for most of his life. He didn’t tell you that he planned to bring a second picture on his next trip- one you’d sent him just a week prior, smiling at him from in front of the Golden Gate Bridge.

It was the same photo he continued to take with him on every subsequent trip. It was the photo that he needed out in the desert, the realization that it was still in the pocket of his coat causing hysterical, tearless sobs to rip from his chest. It was the photo that he kept on his bedside table now. She was my…

Hey, asshole, she’s not what we’re here to talk about, is she?

Logan blinked, looking past Zeke’s potted plants to the slender figure leaning against the window sill, jacket unbuttoned, cut crystal tumbler of amber liquid in hand. Shit.

He asked if you wanted to kill yourself that night. The figure pushed away from the window, gesturing with his glass, thumb and three fingers wrapped around it as he pointed at Logan. You know, the night of Juliet’s wedding? The night she fished you outta your damn pool ‘cause you- he took his pointed finger and jabbed it into the crook of his opposite elbow, droplets of dark brown liquor splashing onto his sleeve. And I’m lookin’ forward to this answer, cause I-

“I didn’t want to fucking die, I just… I wanted to forget how I… how everything felt. I wanted to erase it but I couldn’t. I-” Logan didn’t realize he’d gotten to his feet, didn’t realize that the abrupt action cleared the room of his personal phantom, but he was left speaking only to Ezekiel, and speaking only what he knew to be true. Shaking his head, he pushed his hair back and paced around to stand behind the chair he’d been occupying during the session. “That night was… it was one of the worst nights of my life, Zeke.” He gripped the backrest and leaned forward. “My own sister’s fucking wedding night. Do you know, can you… do you know how that made me feel? That the entire time I was there, I wished I was anywhere fucking else, because my skin was crawling at the idea of that...that piece of shit crawling into my family, but I fucked up my chances at getting Jules to listen to me so… Fuck, Zeke, I… it felt how it did after my mom died, like I was alone, like no one would...and I wanted to feel anything other than the… the fucking pain.”

He spat the last word with disdain as his voice wavered. Ezekiel sat quietly, eyes trained on Logan as he went on. “So I found what I needed and I fuckin… I got high, and I got drunk, and I would have died that night, whether it was what I wanted or not. I know that. I know that she…” Fuck. He swallowed a hard lump so he wouldn’t choke when he spoke your name, wanting it to come out clear. “I know she saved my life that night.”

He shuddered as the most vivid moments from that night flashed in his memory- stumbling into a car with you, stripping off his jacket and shoving it over your shoulders as he cycled from deep chills to fiery sweats. He’d forgotten that his pocket held the empty vial, the nearly empty pill bottle. Somehow, you’d gotten him home, into his place, and he recalled tears- yours and his own. He refused to stay inside, that he remembered, too. I wanted to hear the ocean, I think. You had gone inside to get him a glass of water and… an aspirin, maybe?...apparently happy enough that you’d gotten him to lay down on one of the lounge chairs to leave him out of your sight. Dizzy...and slow...everything was slower than it should have been. He recalled the way his heart beat grew lazier. Then he heard a crash from inside, the sound of glass shattering ringing in his ear to jolt him from the nearly hypnotic state he was falling into. You, there you were, in the doorway, but when he tried to get to you his legs gave out and he fell. Your panicked shout of his name, and then the bright lights of the hospital.

There was more, of course, more that he’d been told because there were giant gaps in his memory. A fight with Jim, William’s smug face as his arm wrapped around Juliet’s shoulder to pull her away from the scene her brother and father were causing, Juliet’s disappointed glance as you talked Logan into leaving. He was told, because he didn’t remember, that when he had stood from the lounge chair and fallen, he’d hit his head on the concrete and plunged into the pool, unconscious and bleeding. If you hadn’t been there, he would have drowned and the poison swimming through his bloodstream wouldn’t have mattered.

But the rest of the night was burned into his brain, the details coming to him in cascades. Logan sat back down in the chair he’d paced around, head falling into his hands. “Logan?” Zeke was trying to prompt him to continue, but he didn’t need it, the rest playing out in high definition- you, sitting in a chair beside his bed, the same terrified look on your face that he first saw when you’d flown to the medical facility at the Mesa to be there for him after he’d been extracted from the desert. Jesus, she fuckin’...she...

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

“I…” your breath hitched as your eyes fell closed, and you brought your free hand up to swipe away the tears you could no longer hold back. When you blinked them open again, Logan saw everything he never wanted to put there- fear and hurt, uncertainty, and a sadness that didn’t belong where he was used to seeing such warmth. “I felt something in the pocket so I pulled it out and-” You closed your eyes and sucked in a breath, opening them as you released the air through your nose. “As soon as I realized what it was...and then that it was empty?” You shook your head and winced. “I didn’t think, Logan, I just… I knew I had to get to you. Fast, and…”

That’s when I heard the glass break… She must have dropped it when... He tried to force his focus and recall the rest of the details so you wouldn’t have to go through it again.

“God, Logan, I was sc-“ your voice broke, splintering into a ragged breath and you shook your head swallowing hard. Without unlacing your fingers from his, you brought your linked hands up to wipe at your exhausted, puffy pinkish eyes, dampening his skin with your stray tears. “I was terrified. I thought... I thought I was too late. I thought that you were-“ you took a breath and he saw your chest shake as you let it back out. I know. I know what you thought. At first he didn’t think you were going to finish your sentence, but then your eyes locked on to his and you continued. “I thought you were d-“ you took another brief pause while you shuffled through your vocabulary, looking for a word that presented less of a choking hazard. “Gone, Logan. I’ve never…” You dissolved into tears again, head going back and forth as though you could banish the emotions. When you spoke again your voice was barely a whisper, but the pain in it echoed in his heart. “I’ve never been that scared, Logan. Never.”

Though you’d returned your hand and his to the bed, he felt more of your tears falling fat and wet on his knuckles, rolling over and between his fingers. “Hey.” His throat was raw and dry, the single word burning on its way out. But I have to… she needs to hear this. He rubbed his thumb lightly against the underside of your wrist and as he did, everything you’d been holding together came undone. “Hey,” he said again, this time adding your name. “I know… I know. But you weren’t, okay? You weren’t too late and I’m-“ He glanced at his free hand, the back of it stuck with needles for IVs, a pulse oximeter clamped over one finger, wires and tubes attaching to machines and bags. The nurse had warned him that moving too much would cause the needle to shift under the skin of his bony hand. Fuck it, I don’t care if it hurts. He lifted it and brought that hand up to wipe beneath your eyes so he could keep the other one wrapped in yours. The sharp prick and uncomfortable tug of the tubing attached to the needle vanished as he felt your breath hit his fingertips. He said your name again, fighting to keep his tone as even as possible. “Hey, come here.” I need to… need her to… He rallied against the thick, heavy feeling in his limbs and slid over making room in the small bed.

“What are you… are you sure, Logan? I-“ your forehead creased with worry as he moved but he nodded and squeezed the hand he still held, and it was all you needed. You stood and carefully climbed into the bed with him, both of you turned on your hips and faces only inches apart.

Logan rested the side of his nose against yours as you closed your eyes, his palm laying to the side of your head. A small whine left your throat and he felt a fresh stream of tears starting up. He wanted to tell you that it was alright; that you weren’t too late, that everything was okay and that he would be fine. But it’s not. She never should have had to… He felt his eyes sting as his tears ran to mix with yours, and in lieu of the words he wanted to say, he pressed his lips over your wet cheeks, whispering your name and stroking your hair until you fell asleep.

Once he felt your chest stop shuddering and the strained, painful, torn sound of each exhale had faded into a more rhythmic pattern, Logan looked down at your hand over his heart. She deserves better than this. But even as he had the thought he could hear you telling him that he did too. You had been his lifeline in the weeks since his last trip, and while he knew that you deserved more of him than the broken down version that came back from the desert, he knew that no one deserved the torture he’d been dealt, the lies that had been spun, the damage that had taken a sledgehammer to the things he worked so hard for so long to keep in check. And he knew that you understood. He knew that you seemed to be the only one that did. Could she…

His door opened then, a nurse entering the room to change the bag of fluids attached to his I.V. and he quickly changed his thoughts, shutting them down before they had a chance to cause any more trouble. No.

.. .. .. .. .. .. ..

But he knew now that you did. You loved him. There was no other conceivable reason for you to have been there for as much as you had been if you didn’t love him, unconditionally and without expectation. “She… Jesus, Zeke, she loved me and I was too blind to see it, I...I made myself too blind to see it, I…” Fuck. “I missed it and now…” Logan looked back up at the man sitting on the opposite side of the cluttered desk, the long green tendrils of his plant collection hanging behind him like a thin curtain as late afternoon sunlight filtered in. Say something, tell me how to-

“You don’t talk about her much, Logan. Almost five months in, and this is maybe the,” Ezekiel shrugged, scrunching his nose to make his glasses ride up. “Third?” He looked up to the ceiling then back down at Logan nodding. “Yeah, this is only the third time I’ve heard you talk about her. See,” he leaned on the points of his elbows, palms bladed and directed at Logan. “I’ve heard you talk about your father. And I’ve heard you talk about your sister and her husband.” Logan felt his top lip curl and he knew Zeke picked up on it. “You do a real good job, Logan, at talkin about the people who hurt you. And I think that’s part of why you’ve been able to come so far, I really do.” Alright, but what do they have to do with- “But talkin about the people that mean something to you? That seems harder for you. His eyes narrowed and he folded his arms on top of his desk. “I don’t think you missed it, Logan. I think you knew that she...and if you ever gave her just a fraction of what I see when you do talk about her, there’s no way she missed it either.”

Logan’s breath came out in a strangled sigh as he nodded. It was still uncomfortable for him to have to rehash all of the things he’d kept buried for so long, uncomfortable to have someone so able to read and anticipate and guide him through it, but Zeke was right about this just as he was right about most things. “That’s why I didn’t...I wasn’t trying to kill myself, Zeke. I knew I wasn’t alone. I knew I had her even if I wasn’t… even if I didn’t…” he shook his head slowly. “I didn’t let myself think that I deserved her. I didn’t let myself have her, not like she… not like I should have, because I was fucking scared of what would happen when I...when I lost her.” Shit, that’s...I never fucking said that before but it’s…

“It's easier for you to believe what everyone else says about you than it is for you to believe that you can prove them wrong.” What? Logan gripped the arms of the chair he sat in, sweaty palms slipping over the smooth wood. “At least, that’s what I think.” Ezekiel tilted his head and sat back. “What do you think about that?”

Initially Logan wanted to argue, to deny the unflattering truth that Ezekiel had uncovered. But he’s right I… Surprising himself, a hollow laugh slipped from his lips, his shaking hand swiping downward over his bearded chin. “No that’s...that’s right. I… when its a fight I know I can win, I’m fucking relentless. I fight like hell on business deals and shit that ultimately means fuckall. But when it’s something I can lose I just…” He trailed off, thoughts drifting to the point in time when he decided that Juliet had become a losing battle.

.. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Logan stood staring at his sister, heart dropping as he watched his words of warning about William, about their father, fall flat on Juliet’s face. Again.

She scoffed, looking away. “Don’t be ridiculous, Logan.” Raising her left hand, she laid her palm to her forehead and scrubbed it harshly backwards over the crown of her head, fingers curling to grip a fistful of hair. Her head shook from side to side, and the cold, white light of the moon struck the many facets of the emerald cut diamond that she wore. He winced as the light bounced off of her ring and into his eyes, burning her engagement to William and everything that it stood for into them. “Dad wouldn’t…” Dad wouldn’t. There’s nothing that man wouldn’t do, Juliet. She dropped her hand from her head, letting it slap against the alabaster railing, the band of her ring clinking when it hit the stone. She shook her head again and turned to face him, leaning back against the banister. “He’s my father, Logan. I know you two have had your problems, but-” What?

“Had our problems?! Jules, come on you know it-”

She cut him right back off, stepping away from the banister and towards him. “Don’t call me Jules, Logan. We're not kids anymore.” The anger and frustration that he’d been hiding behind proved thinner than he thought, her words splintering it like cheap plywood, the hurt he’d tried to tuck away seeping through the cracks. He swallowed and took a staggering step backwards. No. No we’re not.

Juliet sighed and closed her eyes, looking at least half sorry for the biting tone she’d just used. She opened them and when she did he saw sheer exhaustion in them- exhaustion from dealing with him, with the way that things had been going since he’d last been to the park and the relentless way that he kept poking and pulling at her relationship. Not how anyone should look the week before their wedding. “Look. I know that you think Dad is some,” she blinked slowly, twirling her hand- her right this time, no twelve carat rock to catch the icy light. “Some monster. But he’s...he lo-”

Tears had started forming in Logan’s eyes but he hadn’t noticed them until they’d fallen on his curled top lip. ”He doesn’t love anything but his company! He doesn’t love me, he didn’t love mom,” she opened her mouth but he didn’t let her get a word out. “And if you think he loves you, after giving you his blessing to marry him, you’re-”

“What do you mean, he doesn’t love you?” Her voice had quieted, and where she’d been frustrated and frantic before, he watched his sister deflate, the exhaustion spilling from her eyes to wash over her entire face. “Of course he-”

“He told me to get the fuck out of his house, Juliet. Did you know that? When I… after,” he narrowed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. Just say it. “The first time? After mom?” He saw pain flash through his sister’s eyes and he knew it was just as multifaceted as the rock on her hand. She hadn’t been home when their mother silently slipped away, and while Logan had to carry the weight of telling Juliet, she had to carry the guilt of not being there in those final moments. And then when she did get home, she had hardly any time to grieve before she’d found her brother slumped over and barely breathing in the pool house. I know it hurts, Jul. But you have to listen. Please. “I tried to ask him for help. And you know what he said?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. He knew she didn’t know because he knew he never told her. “He said he wouldn’t waste his time on a junkie like me.” He shook his head. “That’s not love. That’s not a father thats-”

The door slid open behind them and Logan stiffened, his back straightening. Fuck. He looked to Juliet, begging her with his eyes to tell the other man to go back inside, to give them more time. To fuck off. But he saw it in her face- saw the moment that she decided that it wasn’t worth the fight, that choosing William and Jim here meant choosing the easiest path through rough terrain. It was the moment he gave up that fight, too.

“Everything okay out here?” Syrupy sweet like condensed milk, the voice that tormented him in the desert hit Logan’s ear and all the fight in him drained out. He chanced one last look at Juliet only to see her staring at her feet as William’s hand curled around her bicep, tugging her to his side. Logan heard the man press a smacking kiss to his sister’s temple and he winced, remembering how maniacally infatuated he had become with a Host in the park, how easily he’d tossed his sister aside then only to use her as a prop now. “Logan, I didn’t know you were here.” He snapped his head up then, eyes locking with the icy blue pair staring back at him. “To what do we owe the-”

“I was just fuckin leaving, Billy.” His eyes moved from William’s to Juliet’s, the slightest bit of satisfaction from the man’s distaste of the nickname not eclipsing the fact that his sister was still choosing the ground instead of him. Ouch, Jules...damn. “You two have a good fuckin night.”

.. .. .. .. .. ..

“When it’s something I can lose… I don’t even fight.” The words felt heavy and hard as he spoke them, a buzzing in his brain that wasn’t there when he’d first sat down in Zeke’s office. Shit. “I give up...I...I gave up on, on myself.” I didn’t want to lose everything- my place at Delos, Juliet… your name swirled through his mind then, right up there with the other things that he cared enough about to be wounded by. So I just...quit. That’s...fuck that’s not… “That’s not who I am.”

The revelation came quietly as he looked down at his forearm. That’s not...that doesn’t define you. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt your fingertips brush over the bruising on the inside of his elbow. That’s not who you are, Logan. When he’d finally told you everything about his ongoing struggle with addiction, all you’d done was try to make him see that he was worth the fight. That he, Logan Delos, was worth saving.

I didn’t see it then. But I… I see it now.

“Well then you better start fighting again, Logan.” Ezekiel called him back to the present, the man calmly removing his glasses to clean the lenses. “You better start fighting for what you know you deserve, because if you do? If you fight the way I know you can, the way that she knows you can...the way you know you can?” He inspected his glasses before perching them back on his nose. “If you fight and you keep fighting? There’s no way you can lose, Logan. No damn way.”

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @malionnes @suchatinyinfinity @gollyderek @thesumofmychoices @belladonnarey @ymariejp @obscurilicious @songtoyou @traeumerinwitzhelden @drinix @jigsawlover10 @getlostinyourparadise @nananananananananananabatman @vetseras @qhostboyyy @pheedraws @alraedesigns @valkblue @dearmarii

#core drive #clean 1.04 #logan delos #logan delos westworld #logan delos x you #logan delos x reader #logan delos law school au #(hang in there we are ALMOST in law school)#law school logan au #we are very close to rolled up sleeves and pencil chewing my friends i promise you #please read the warnings #zeke is the best #william can fuck all the way off #logan delos deserved better #and he finally sees that

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hushedhands · 3 years

Note

okay, I sent in my ballot a couple of days ago, but I was trying to come up with a unique and interesting prompt, lol. All I got is this: is there an idea that you wanted to explore, but is decidedly non-canon in your stories? Like an AU of your own work. Something wild. Like time travel, haha. (also I stole the idea of motivating people to vote, remind others to vote, or volunteer by providing fic previews. No one has cashed in on my offer but I tried lol)

So, the only AU I can think of for Laws of Inheritance would be if Avery lived and Maxon died. Addy’s an only child, she’s been raised abroad to keep her safe because she’s the last Schreave, and America’s been running things with the advisers in the mean time. Now Addy’s old enough to move home, but she doesn’t know anyone very well, and she’s not culturally very Illéan, but everyone’s expecting her to be Queen. Sometimes there are still rebels.

Anyway, what a bummer! So instead, I’ll tell you my The Thing with Feathers AU idea. I can’t fully write a challenge of it without giving away the ending of the actual fic (there’d even be clues about the ending in who is cast in certain roles!), but I can give you a very detailed outline. Here goes:

**The Thing with Feathers Coffee Shop AU/ Lifetime Original Christmas Movie**

- Addy is the heir to the largest coffee shop chain in the world, basically Starbucks. It’s called Schreave’s I guess.

- Addy gets caught partying with her boyfriend (Martin) by the paparazzi and Maxon realizes his socialite daughter needs Discipline. He’s like, “Adrienne, you will enroll in school in the fall and you will work part-time at the coffee shop on campus (they have a Schreave’s on campus). And Addy’s like, “I don’t need to know how to make coffee, I need to know how to manage a global brand, that’s totally different!” but she’s in too much trouble, so she has to go.

- Her little siblings are the exact same, but they get to do all the normal stuff they want. Lief can ride rollercoasters and Jamesy is in the Boy Scouts, and Maisy’s the star of her private school soccer team.

- Addy starts school and she’s surprised that she actually likes it. Her brand management classes are really practical, so she doesn’t even have to buy a textbook. Most students know she’s an heiress, but some people just think it’s funny that she has the same last name as that coffee shop chain.

- On the other hand, she’s never had to work a part-time job before, and her manager (Lenore!) is very hard on her. Addy only got the job because her dad is Mr. Starbucks (okay, Schreave’s), and Lenore makes Addy do all the lame stuff (washing machinery, carrying in shipments of milk and coffee beans) and won’t let her do any of the fun stuff (drawing on the chalkboard to advertise today’s specials, learning to make fun latte foam art).

- Then one day, a cute boy walks in. I won’t tell you his name, but he’s Addy’s future husband. He just orders his drink and leaves her a really nice tip and that’s it. Lenore makes fun of Addy for making googly eyes at him while he leaves the shop. Addy is a bazillionaire, so she will save every tip he ever gives her in a coffee can (Hello, America’s penny jar!)

- The boy comes back the next day and the next day. Addy learns his order and gets it ready for him just before he arrives, and then one day she gets bold and writes her phone number on the cardboard sleeve that covers his coffee!

- He doesn’t call her or text her all day, and she’s DYING of embarrassment because like, maybe she read him wrong and he doesn’t like her?? Now she has to see him again the next day and he ignored her! BUT

- he texts her that night and they start a cute little texting exchange, they learn about each other’s families and favorite books and tv shows, and they get to know each other through that way. He still only comes by the coffee shop to pick up his order, leave her a tip, and go. Addy draws him doodles on his coffee sleeves every time. He saves every single coffee sleeve, starting with the phone number one, and will keep them forever just like Addy keeps the tips, but Addy doesn’t know that yet!

- Addy catches Lenore studying for an exam when she’s supposed to be working, but instead of dunking on Lenore as revenge for how hard she’s been on Addy, Addy just helps her study and by the end of the night they’re cool.

- There’s a football game coming up, so Addy writes on the sleeve of Future Husband’s coffee, asking if he wants to go with her. He returns to the coffee shop that afternoon (his first time ever to make a second trip in the same day), just to give her her ticket and offer to walk with her from her dorm to the stadium that night. Their first date! The game is fun, their school wins, they go eat dinner at the diner afterwards, they kiss each other goodnight.

- They go on a few more dates after that, and Addy’s feelings are getting serious, but wait! Her dad is coming into town to give her a ride to a ski resort on the family private jet for the holidays. How will he feel if Addy tells him she’s started dating someone? Probably bad, because the last time she got in trouble it was with her ex-boyfriend! She has to keep Future Husband a secret!

- But Addy’s all lovelorn and listless, even though it’s Christmas, and she misses her cute boyfriend and her shifts at the coffee shop. She knows how to make her dad’s favorite order now which impresses him. He’s very proud of her, and impressed with how much she’s grown in her semester at school, but he can tell that she’s not happy. America notices Addy all curled up on one of those window bay seats overlooking a gorgeous ski lift, texting and sighing, and finally gets Addy to admit it. She has serious feelings for a boy, but she’s a coffee heiress and it’s complicated

- It turns out America was just a normal teenage girl from South Carolina when she met Maxon by chance! It was the first time Clarkson had ever sent Maxon out on his own to handle a negotiation. Maxon was supposed to meet with local farmers about supplying the coffee shop chain with milk and produce in that region. He also met with artists whose paintings they would feature on the coffee shop walls in that area. That’s how Maxon met Shalom, who brought America along for the meeting to help carry his sample paintings. The rest was history!

- So if Maxon could marry some painter’s daughter from the middle of nowhere in South Carolina, why couldn’t Addy date a student at her school? Addy tells her mother Future Husband’s name, and America works her magic, but Addy doesn’t know it yet.

- Addy spends Christmas eve night with her siblings, playing in the snow. They go to sleep, but all Addy wants for Christmas is Future Husband.

- The next morning, guess who’s sitting in the living room of their million-dollar ski lodge penthouse? Future Husband! America snuck his phone number from Addy’s phone and convinced Maxon to use his connections to fly Future Husband to the ski resort overnight.

- Does Addy get other rich-people things for Christmas, like diamonds and expensive laptops or something? Of course! But her real present is Future Husband, who is going to spend the rest of winter break with her, getting to know the fam. They’ll even get to spend New Year’s Eve together! The fic/movie ends with the camera zooming in on a kiss under the mistletoe between Addy and her Future Husband!

**The End**

(until the sequel when he proposes!)

#The Thing with Feathers #weavemeamyrtlecrown #DemocracyHands #Coffee Shop AU

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maraudersandlily20 · 3 years

Text

Hope

If you haven’t read the first part, probably go do that. But here’s a small recap: I wrote stories about Hope and Lyall Lupin before they got married, I made @the-moon-and-stars-my-love read it almost two years ago and her commentary still makes me laugh. So I am going to post the story with the commentary interspersed. Enjoy! Her commentary will be labeled, bolded, and italicized.

Part 2

Carolina: i see that there is gonna be a part two and i aM READY AND HERE FOR IT

It had been two weeks since she had seen him. Two full weeks. She knew, because she had counted. Many, many times. And though she would never admit it, it rather hurt.

Carolina: ohhh goodness my heart is breaking a bit for her. she felt ghosted. or, well, as ghosted as you can be in the 1950s without things like snapchat and all that tech stuff but she literally has no way to contact him?? of course she's hurt :(

Had she made the whole thing up? Was Lyall Lupin simply a figment of her imagination? Those thoughts came to her as the first week came to an end. And then, she would look over on her dresser to see the gleam of silver of that piece of chocolate, which had earned a kind of place of honor beside her hairbrush, and knew she hadn’t made anything up. He was real. Which meant that he just hadn’t come to see her again.

That truth made her wish that he hadn’t been real at all.

Carolina: stop stop it right now that's so unfair they had such a lovely time and now you're making this happen??? rUDE

To her embarrassment, she had replayed their meeting over and over again in her mind, wondering if perhaps she had been too forward with her desire to see him again. But HE was the one who had said he wanted to return, even if it was just to “check up on her”. She had seen the way his eyes had lit up when she agreed to that and she knew he was just as intrigued by her as she was by him.

At least, she had thought so.

Carolina: you can see how she's trying to rationalize and i mean she's really not wrong but her fear that she was too forward is so real and oh man Lyall you better make this up to her

Two weeks of radio silence was making her question that. It was making her question everything.

Groaning in frustration, Hope tried to push the annoying and persistent thoughts away. Her mother was at the market and had left Hope in charge of making the bread for dinner that evening. It was a tiring chore, but it gave her hands something to do while she contemplated the mysterious man again and again. She was kneading the dough slowly, rubbing in more and more flour, becoming rougher with her movements as she recalled the details of their meeting.

It had almost been a type of fairytale. He had rescued her from the brute in the forest, and sat beside her while she was unconscious to ensure her safety, then he had escorted her home, and had promised to return to see her again soon.

If anyone else had told her a similar story, she probably would have gushed along with them, reassuring them that the young man was just as interested in them as they thought.

Carolina: you and me both Hope wheRE IS MY FAIRYTALE STORY???

And then, as time went on, she would change her tune, perhaps suggesting that he was too good to be true and wasn’t interested in letting the poor girl down. Hope knew that that’s how she would treat the situation from an outsider’s perspective. But she wasn’t an outsider. It had happened to her, and she really REALLY wanted him to return with his perfect explanation and tell her how mad he was for her.

It was very unrealistic.

“Stupid Lyall Lupin and his stupid beautiful face and his stupid kind gestures and his stupid chocolate and his stupid everything. Stupid, stupid, stupid!” she muttered, slamming the dough onto the table with her final exclamation.

Carolina: "boys are stupid" is the vibe i'm getting from her and honestly what a mood

Realizing how foolish she was behaving, she took a step back and placed her hands on her hips, trying to calm herself. She stared down at the abandoned dough covered with deep indents from her fingers and shook her head.

“And stupid me, for believing in him in the first place.”

Carolina: yOU DID NOTHING WRONG (Carolina will fight anyone in regards to Hope, as I have learned)

That was the rub, the thing that bothered Hope the most. She considered herself to be rather clever and not very naive. But this was different. She had met a beautiful stranger in the woods, let him sweet talk her, even escort her home. He was kind and amiable and seemed like the stuff of dreams. Then he vanished without another word. Now she was thinking it had all been a ruse, the stuff of dreams after all.

With a sigh, she made to go back to the dough and finish the task at hand, though it seemed like the least important thing to her at that moment. Bread had none of the answers she needed. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. She just had to get through the day, and then she could try to forget Lyall Lupin. It would probably never happen, but she could dream. Hope made to grab the dough again when she heard something, like a soft thump. The noise was coming from the front of the house and after a moment, it sounded almost as if someone was cursing softly. She peered around the table, curious, when a quick knock echoed in the air. It startled her enough to make her jump and she laughed at herself.

They weren’t expecting guests that night, so there shouldn’t have been anyone dropping by. But nobody in town cared much about boundaries and always did as they pleased regardless. It wasn’t uncharacteristic of the town to show up around supper and beg for scraps. Hope’s mother was always gracious toward their unexpected guests, while Hope always wanted to roll her eyes. She was curious though and headed toward the door. As she neared, she realized that there was a chance it was Miles. The thought almost made her ignore the knock completely. He had made his intentions toward her very clear and she was worried her refusal of his affection hadn’t been obvious enough. He was the type of suitor that believed in perseverance over anything.

Carolina: oh my gosh he's THAT guy. i really want him to come back in the future and i want Lyall to be like "lmao bro nope u wish look at me i'm the lucky sod who gets to marry this girl"

She wouldn’t be surprised if he had been waiting for her mother to leave so they could have a moment alone together. The thought made her wince.

With a pause and prayer, Hope opened the door.

It wasn’t Miles, with his bouquets and love poems, nor was it any of the other villagers, looking for a free meal and a good piece of gossip.

It wasn’t like that at all.

What she found was nothing like she expected.

A man was lying on her porch, covered almost head to toe in mud and carrying on as if he were about to die. It was, simply put, rather shocking.

Carolina: i am genuinely concerned for Lyall rn

Hope sprang to action. “Sir! Are you alright?” She asked, concern coating her voice.

The man looked up at her and she caught her breath. She knew those warm hazel eyes. She had been dreaming of them consistently for the past two weeks. He gave her a weak smile through a stifled groan. .

“Hello, Miss Howell. I do hope I’m not intruding.”

Lyall.

Carolina: wOW sure sure Lyall act like you aREN'T DYING SURE SURE WHY NOT

It took some effort, but Hope was able to get Lyall up off the porch and into the house.

Carolina: we stan a strong woman yessss hope!!

The two had limped together through the front rooms, Lyall leaning heavily on her, much to her distaste. At least most of the mud was drying, she reasoned. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to wash her clothes.

They reached the washroom and she released her hold of him to start gathering towels and soap. His eyes followed her movement before he slowly lowered himself onto the tile of the floor. He was quiet as she worked, watching as she filled up the tub with warm water, rubbing the soap bar between her hands in order to make the water have some suds. She had barely looked at him after getting him inside, though he had tried to get her eyes on him again. Hope was stubborn. Lyall had learned that faster than anything else. He had unintentionally caused her some pain the past two weeks, and she wasn’t prepared to just let that go. The awkwardness between them was palpable and Lyall wasn’t sure what to do to ease it.

When the tub was full, Hope turned to him. “Are you hurt?”

He looked up at her, startled. “Hurt?”

“Yes, hurt. Do you need help getting your clothes off?” She tried to pretend that the thought of helping him undress didn’t cause a red hot blush to crawl up her neck.

Carolina: lmao okay Hope sure yeah act like you wouldn't love to see him without his shirt mhm suuuure

Lyall shook his head. “I can manage my trousers but, uh… I may need some help with the shirt.”

Carolina: sO MUCH OPPORTUNITY FOR CUTE STUFF RIGHT NOW DEAR GOODNESS

Hope nodded, placing her hands under his arms and attempting to help him to his feet. He laughed as they struggled and she almost smiled.

Almost.

Carolina: yes good don't give in yet Hope you've got this he still has to explain

Now that Lyall was once again standing, Hope tried to push on with the work. “Don’t think about it, Hope. Just imagine you’re helping Da with his shirt. Not an extremely handsome man who keeps staring at you with those lovely hazel eyes and that ridiculously sweet smile. It’s nothing. He just needs some help with the buttons. Don’t think about it!” she told herself as she gently pushed his coat over his shoulders.

Carolina: hAHAHAHAHAHA THIS INNER MONOLOGUE I'M DEAD

He winced, hissing softly and her eyes shot up to his in concern. His eyes were squinted in pain, but he was looking at her. Still looking at her.

The coat fell to the ground with thud, but Hope found that she couldn’t look away from him. They stood in silence, watching the other for any sign of breaking the silence first. Hope still thought he was beautiful, as annoyed as that made her. He was covered in mud and his hair was sticking up in all directions, and she still thought he was beautiful.

Carolina: i just wanna say that i find the fact that she calls him beautiful to be very sweet and so so soft it genuinely makes my heart melt

But he hadn’t come back to see her.

This thought snapped her out of her reverie and she looked down, her attention on the buttons of his shirt once again. Her hands, she noticed, were shaking as she brought them up to the first button.

“I’m sorry.” The words were soft, so as not to startle her.

Carolina: yOU SHOULD BE... okay continue Lyall

Hope shook her head, focusing on the task at hand, which was horribly embarrassing if she really thought about it. But she knew Lyall needed help, so she was going to help him. Just as he had helped her. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Carolina: gIRL STOP LYING WHY U ALWAYS LYIN HE HURT YOU! AND THERE HAS BEEN NO EXPLANATION YET YOUR FRUSTRATION IS VALID

“I do.” His voice was full of regret as he said those two words. “I told you I’d come back to see you soon. And it’s been two weeks.”

Carolina: soon?? sOON?? LYALL LUPIN TWO WEEKS IS A LONG TIME IN THE 1950S WHEN YOU DONT HAVE ANOTHER WAY OF COMMUNICATING WITH SOMEONE YOU RANDOMLY MET IN THE WOODS

“I know. It doesn’t matter.”

Carolina: BUT IT DOES HOPE IT DOES DO YOU NOT REMEMBER YOUR THOUGHTS MOMENTS AGO WHILE YOU ANGRILY MADE BREAD??

Jo: I love you so much

He reached up with his hand and covered both of hers as they attempted to undo his buttons. The warmth of his hand made her pause. He said nothing, as if waiting, and finally, she looked up to meet his gaze. “It does.”

Carolina: my heaaaaart

Lyall was not used to having to answer to someone. After leaving his parents for school, he had become very independent. He enjoyed being his own man, coming and going as he pleased without anything to worry about. But his independence had hurt Hope, he could tell, and he was desperate to salvage the situation. “I got sent to Scotland for work. I couldn’t remember exactly where you lived and so I couldn’t send a letter or anything. If I had been able to, Hope, I would have come back the next day.”

His reasoning settled in her mind and Hope cocked her head as she looked at him. He realized, after she said nothing, that she was looking for a lie. “Alright.” She dropped her eyes again.

He groaned, not releasing her hands on his shirt. “You don’t believe me.”

Carolina: well no shit sherlock (i still love u lyall but i stand by my bby hope)

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug and she let out a disparaging laugh. “Lyall, I thought you didn’t exist. I thought I had just… created you in mind. I didn’t hear from you for two weeks and then all of a sudden you’re on my doorstep, hurt and covered in mud, and I’m just supposed to accept that you were called away on work and couldn’t reach me?”

Carolina: she's a smart cookie

There was a truth to her words and he let out a dejected sigh. She began unbuttoning his shirt once again and he let her, trying to help as she pushed the dirtied fabric over his shoulders. It joined his coat on the ground.

And then, Hope stopped.

Because Lyall Lupin was incredibly beautiful.

Hope’s older brother, Rhys, was training to be a doctor, and on occasion, Hope had gone to the hospital to visit him. The hospital was always full of wounded, shirtless people, but Hope had never really thought about it in the way she was now. Because the people at the hospital weren’t standing in her bathroom, after rescuing her in the woods and then not coming to see her for two weeks with a sad explanation and a need for a bath. The people in the hospital weren’t well-constructed male specimens who were fit and tanned and very very handsome. The people at the hospital didn’t make Hope feel like could melt into a puddle on the floor if they touched her.

No.

No, only Lyall Lupin could do that.

Carolina: Hope, do you need a glass of water for your thirst?

She cleared her throat, her eyes glued to his skin. She could feel the heat emanating from him and never before in her life had she fought so hard to resist an urge to touch someone.

Lyall smiled lightly at her attention and refused to move. He waited for her to make the first move. To touch him. To do something.

Hope turned away.

“I think you could leave your pants on and then get in the tub, that way I could help you wash. If you wanted.”

He had to laugh at that. “That sounds perfect,” came his response.

Carolina: me too lyall i'm laughing too xD

She nodded and turned her back to him completely, hoping that it wasn’t too obvious that she was listening to him undo his belt and drop his trousers to the floor. She bit her lip and stared up at the ceiling.

“God help me,” she whispered.

Carolina: she's a mess hahaha she's so far gone for him

Lyall stepped into the warm water with a quiet groan and situated himself comfortably before looking back at Hope.

“You’re alright to turn around now.”

Hope wasn’t sure that was true. She didn’t know how she was going to last with him looking like that in the bath water. Hoping to somehow magically keep her thoughts to herself, she pulled up the footstool by the tub.

Lyall began slowly scrubbing the mud from his skin with the small bar of soap. He winced as he stretched out his right shoulder and Hope felt concern pool in her stomach. She pushed him forward and examined his back. There, across his shoulder blade, was a deep gash that was surrounded with dark bruising. Her mouth fell open. He hadn’t said anything!

“Christ, Lyall! Why didn’t you tell me you were that hurt?”

He let out a pained laugh as she poked around the cut. “I don’t know. I was a bit preoccupied with the beautiful woman unbuttoning my shirt.”

Carolina: LYALL LUPIN YOU SHAMELESS MAN [fans self]

She leaned back and glared which made him bark out a genuine laugh. The sound made her heart flip in her chest.

“It’s a superficial wound, Hope. Nothing to worry about. I’ll go see a healer and be fit as a fiddle in no time.”

She quirked her head at his choice of the word “healer”, but said nothing.

Carolina: Lyall Lupin you're terrible at keeping magic a secret around a beautiful woman

Jo: CAN YOU BLAME HIM

She was sure he wouldn’t have an explanation anyway. So she went back to the task at hand. With a small towel, she began cleaning out the mud from Lyall’s hair, watching as the thick strands of hair returned back to its original golden brown color, without all the leaves and twigs.

“You certainly know how to make a right mess of yourself, Lyall Lupin,” she muttered.

They returned to the silence from before as they worked to clean him off. When there was a considerable less amount of mud on his skin, she had him stand. “We need to get you and your cut cleaned, and we can’t do that with muddy water,” she explained after Lyall’s sharp complaint as the cool air hit his skin. As the water drained from beneath him, they stood staring at each other.

In fascination, she watched as his whole body became covered in goosebumps from the cold. Before she could stop herself, her hand reached out to feel this skin on his chest. They both froze, realizing what she had just done, but neither of them were willing to say anything to break the moment. Hope pulled her hand back quickly as if she had been burned and then began filling the tub once again with warm water. Stunned, Lyall sat down hard, grateful for the warmth of the water to occupy his thoughts instead of her soft skin against his.

With a red face and a muttered excuse, Hope left the bathroom. She found spare clothes that looked as if they would fit Lyall in her father’s trunk. As she sorted through different trousers, she berated herself.

“You couldn’t just keep your hands to yourself?” she whispered in horror, replaying that moment over and over again in her mind. Had she really just done that?

Carolina: yES YOU DID YOU REALLY DID ~waggles eyebrows~

When she had found adequate clothing for him, she went to Rhys’ old room and dug up his old medical kit. He had gotten a much nicer medical kit as a wedding present from their parents, and so had left the old one at home, in case of emergencies. Hope sifted through the contents and pulled out a roll of gauze and a sturdy bandage. She would have to let him know to watch the wound for infection, but it would do for the time being.

Still horribly embarrassed over her lack of control, she returned to the bathroom.

“I brought you some clothes,” she announced, holding the pile in front of her. He smiled.

“Thank you. I know I’m intruding on your home and this wasn’t the way you expected to spend your evening, but I’m truly grateful Hope.”

Carolina: mhm mhm yes true but also consider: this was a much better way to spend her evening

She shrugged. “Consider us even.” She watched his face fall a bit before he plastered on a smile and laughed.

Carolina: does he think she won't ever want to see him again now??? oh my gosh this is so much mutual pining even tho they aRE CLEARLY HEAD OVER HEELS FOR EACH OTHER ALREADY

She left the pile of clothes on the counter and turned to go. “When you’re ready, before you put your shirt on, let me bandage your cut,” she said over her shoulder.

“There’s really no need-” she cut him off with a sharp look and he held up his hands in surrender. “Of course.”

After Hope had left the bathroom, she started to close the door, but without registering what she was doing, left it open a sliver. Just enough to peek in.

She watched in fascination as Lyall heaved in a breath and settled back against the tub. She felt she could examine him now, at this safer distance, without getting too overwhelmed. He was fit, for certain. His shoulders were broad and his muscles taut, though he was thin. He must do heavy labor, she thought to herself. She realized then that she had no idea what he did for work or why he was in Scotland in the first place. Pushing away that nagging suspicion, she returned to the task of blatantly staring at the beautiful man in her bathtub. He was totally relaxed, his eyes shut against the lamp in the bathroom, and Hope couldn’t help but rest her head against the doorframe. He looked like a painting.

After a minute or two in this fashion, Hope realized how inappropriately she was behaving and shook her head to rid her of her thoughts. “Idiot,” she whispered to herself, turning away from the opening and pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. What had gotten into her?

She stayed that way as she listened to Lyall stand from the bath. Next came the sound of rustling fabric as he toweled off and began putting on the clothes she had laid out for him. When the door opened a second later, he made a noise of surprise at seeing her there.

He had done as he was told and left the shirt off, but Hope fixed her eyes firmly on his face, determined not to let them go one inch lower. He smiled at her. “I’ve done as I’ve been told, captain. Where to next.”

She rolled her eyes at his quips and gestured for him to follow her through the back hallway and into the room at the very corner of the cottage. The light was slowly fading from the window and the sunlight caught Lyall’s hair in a way that was entirely too distracting. Annoyed at where her thoughts had gone once again, she pointed at the bed and commanded him to sit. He did so.

Hope picked up her pile of medical supplies and laid it out of the cover of the bed. The cut wasn’t deep enough for stitches, and she wasn’t sure she had the stomach for that now anyway. There was disinfectant and pain relievers and plenty of gauze.

“Do your worst, nurse Howell,” he said, his voice light, watching as she poured the disinfectant on a cloth to sanitize his wound. She thought for a moment that he seemed a little nervous. Hope rolled her eyes but slowly dabbed at the cut, ignoring the wince on Lyall’s face from the sting. The water had cleaned out the dirt and it had begun to bleed slightly at the attention. She covered the length of the cut with a strip of gauze and cut off the remains. After that, she wrapped the wound, pulling the bandage across his chest and under his arm over and over till she ran out. It wasn’t perfect but it would have to do.

He watched her as she did her work and couldn’t help but ask, “where did you learn about medicine?”

“My brother,” she shrugged. “He’s attempting to become a doctor, and with a mouth that big, you can’t help but pick up some things. Not to mention, he always wanted to practice on me as a patient.”

Lyall chucked, imagining Hope’s fury at being forced to participate. “How dreadful,” he said, though the humor was clear in his voice. She rolled her eyes.

While she finished the task at hand and began tying off the bandage, Lyall took notice of the room they were in. It was small and quaint. An old quilt hung up over the bed as decoration and there was a stack of various novels piled on the desk. The vase of flowers on the windowsill were slightly wilted, as if they weren’t important to the owner. The bedside table had a leatherbound journal and bible, and right next to the lamp, there was a small wrapped chocolate. Suddenly, Lyall understood.

“This is your bedroom,” he stated, looking up at her. It wasn’t a question, just a fact.

She nodded. It dawned on her then that Lyall was there, in her bedroom, partially undressed and it sent her cheeks burning. Seeing him there, so casual in her room, on her bed, had her heart pounding almost as hard as it had that day in the woods, but for an entirely different reason.

Carolina: my eyebrows could not have flow up higher than they did. wHATS ON YOUR MIND HOPE HUH???

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

That made her roll her eyes. “If I thought you were intruding, Lyall, I wouldn’t have brought you in here. Besides, it’s just a room.”

His eyes locked back onto the chocolate while Hope got up and helped him into his new shirt. When the fabric was settled against his skin, and she had made sure it hadn’t ruined her bandaging, he looked up at her. “That’s the chocolate I gave you.”

Her eyes widened and darted over to the bedside table where the guilty chocolate stood. After an awkward beat, she shrugged.

“I try not to eat candy from strangers I meet in the woods.”

He nodded sagely. “No, no, of course not. You just leave it out on your bedside table to look at on occasion.”

Carolina: THEY'RE BOTH SMART ASSES I LOVE THEM

Her eyes narrowed down at him, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “It was the only thing I had to remind me that you were real.” He gave her a soft smile but she ignored it. “It also reminds me that you didn’t come to see me for two whole weeks and still haven’t given me a good explanation,” she all but snapped.

Lyall sighed. “I told you, I was in Scotland.”

“Right. Of course. How could I forget?” The sarcasm in her tone was clear and she rolled her eyes, turning away from him.

“Hope, I-”

He was cut short by the sound of the front door opening. Mam was home. Hope’s eyes widened in terror, because Lyall was there, in her room, where young men definitely should not be, and had just been in her bath. And her Mam had no idea he even existed. “Oh no,” she whispered.

Carolina: everything about this. comedy g o l d

“What?” he asked, matching her tone.

“Calon Bach? Where are you? Why is the bread not done?” Her mother’s voice cut through the silence, making Hope wince.

Hope panicked. “She can’t know you’re here!” She whispered furiously. “She’ll beat me silly if she finds I have a man in the house. Let alone in my bedroom! You have to go! Right now!” She began pushing him toward the window, as he objected.

Carolina: oh my gosh. i am laughing as i type this. the window. thE WINDOW XD

“Hope, calm down. I’m sure it’ll be fine. We can just explain to her- Hope are you seriously going to push me out of the window?” She didn’t answer, she simply threw open the shutters and gestured for him to leave.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly.”

He let out an incredulous laugh. “Really, Hope?”

An eyebrow lifted at his tone. “My mother will skin my hide if she finds you in here, and then she’ll hang you out by the toes on the back line. Trust me, Lyall, it’ll be better for both of us if you just go. Now. Please.”

Carolina: okay but i wasn't prepared to have all the pining and staring and then have it turn into this teen romantic comedy it's amazing and i love it and i'm straight up crying at this point because it's so funny

“Calon Bach?” Her mother’s voice echoed around the house.

“Coming, mam! Just a minute!” She shooed Lyall out of the window and with a horrified yet amused look on his face, he began to exit through the opening. She watched as he swung one leg over the windowsill and straddled it before he froze and turned to her with a look of horror on his face.

“Hope, my clothes!”

Carolina: I FORGOT ABOUT THAT OMG THE CLOTHES IN THE BATHROOM

A gasp escaped her. “Go! I’ll go grab them.” Trying to be as quiet as possible, she rushed to the bathroom and gathered up his muddied clothes and boots. She returned to her room and saw Lyall standing in front of the window. She tossed him his clothes and then turned to leave.

In a flash, Lyall had reached through and clasped onto her arm, forcing her to stop in her tracks. “Wait.”

She turned, her face turning red at the physical contact. She really needed to get a better hold of herself. She waited, watching him as his eyes searched her face.

“What?” she finally asked, feeling nervous from his attention.

“Can I see you again?”

Without meaning to, she sighed. “Lyall-”

“I mean it, Hope. And this time, I’ll actually come soon. Probably tomorrow. But I have to know that’s what you want. If you don’t want to see me again, you just have to say, and I’ll never come back.”

Carolina: LYALL LUPIN YOU SWEET AND RESPECTFUL BOY

She stopped short, taking in the set position of his mouth and the honesty in his eyes. He was serious. He really would never come back if that’s what she wanted. Even though she hardly knew him, and even though she wanted better answers than the ones he had given her, and even though she was dreadfully annoyed at his absence for the past two weeks, she was still grateful to have met him. He made her feel something she had never felt before. And she wanted to keep feeling that way.

“Hope.”

She closed her eyes at the sound of his voice saying her name. She would never grow tired of that.

Carolina: JO HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT THIS IS THE TYPE OF STUFF THAT MELTS MY HEART INTO A PUDDLE OF HOPELESS ROMANTIC???

Jo: because we're the same person and IT DOES THE SAME THING TO ME. Also, please note i wrote this next part solely for you

Carolina: oh my goodness i love you and i'm ready to read it

“Yes.” the word popped out of her mouth suddenly and her eyes opened to meet his. “Yes, I want to see you again. Please.”

He grinned at her.

“Tomorrow then.”

“I won’t get my hopes up.”

He laughed. “You’re wrong about me, Hope. I promise. You’ll see.” He slid his grasp from her forearm down to her hand. His touch was gentle as he drew her hand close to his lips and pressed a kiss to her heated skin. She was bright red, she was sure.

Carolina: I AM A MESS OF HUMAN RIGHT NOW I JUST SCREAMED INTO MY PILLOW GET YOU A MAN LIKE LYALL LUPIN WHO KISSES YOUR HAND AND MAKES YOU PROMISES AND IS SO TENDER AND AHAAOIDHASILFJHAVWRVUWA

After a moment, he drew back and smiled up at her. It took her breath away.

Carolina: ME TOO HOPE ME TOO I DONT THINK MY HEART IS FUNCTIONING PROPERLY RIGHT NOW

He turned and started jogging away. She held herself up using the windowsill and watched him go. But she had to ask just one more question.

“Lyall!”

Carolina: gIRL? do you not?? remember?? that your mother??? is in the house???? you are playing with fIRE RIGHT NOW

He turned around, a panicked look on his face as he registered her volume and held up a finger to his lips to quiet her. She winced as she remembered that her mother was just down the hall, but this was important. “Why? After you got hurt, why did you come here of all places? You must have guessed I didn’t want to see you. But somehow, you knew I would help you. How did you know? Why did you come?”

He smiled this strange kind of smile, as if he was sharing a joke with himself. And then he shrugged.

“Well, Miss Howell, it was the only place I could think of,” he winked as he said this, then turned again and headed down the path.

Carolina: (because he apparated there) OH HEY NOW COOL YES I LIKE THAT BECAUSE THAT MEANS HE WAS THINKING OF HER YEAH I LIKE THIS IDEA!

Also Carolina: ugh catch me swooning because of Lyall Lupin

Jo: Mood

Hope watched him until he became a blur in the distance. And then he was gone.

Her heart was full of longing for whatever new adventure Lyall Lupin brought with him the next time they met and she bit her lip to keep herself from smiling.

“Til tomorrow,” she whispered.

Carolina: mhm mhm mhm i cANT WAIT I AM THOROUGHLY ENGAGED WITH THIS STORY AND IN LOVE WITH THIS LOVE STORY

I hope you enjoyed part two of my writing and Carolina having a heart attack over it. I hope I can finish this story eventually, but I just had to share the gem that Carolina is. I just like her a lot. That’s all!

#my writing #hope lupin #lyall lupin #the lupins #remus lupin

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revisionaryhistory · 4 years

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Three Days ~ 56

~*~Emma~*~

Sebastian and I talked and laughed until early morning. By the time I was finished packing it almost wasn't worth going to sleep. There was no way in hell I was going to hang up before he was ready. Cathartic or not, tears are tears. And with his history of being emotionally unavailable, calling me with puffy red eyes is a big fucking deal.

Throwing my phone across the room when the alarm went off seemed like a good idea. I fought off the urge. Half an hour and a cup of coffee later I was on my way to the airport. Flying out of White Plains was a shorter drive with a longer flight. Wound up being about the same as the long drive with a shorter flight from LaGuardia. I loved flying much more than driving. Plus, TSA at White Plains is cake. Past security I got another cup of coffee and settled in until boarding. I had a lovely breakfast on my layover in North Carolina. I do love a good chicken biscuit. In Atlanta I took a picture of the “Welcome” sign and posted it with the caption, "Back where I was born." I hadn't called Atlanta home in many years. I said things like, “It's good to be back", "I missed being here.", and "I'm happy to see you guys." New York was home. Seattle was home. I rarely called Alpharetta home except as a throwaway word to avoid having to explain.

Almost immediately I got a text.

Sebastian ~ Excited for family pix

Emma ~ And live on FaceTime?

Sebastian ~ I’m not afraid of your father. I hear he's a cupcake compared to your dad. Think I can tell you and Amy apart?

Emma ~ We'll see….

We'd talked about him meeting them. I hadn't thought about how strange it’s been for him to have me all the Vedders, even texting with Ed, but not met my parents and sister. It's way more complicated with the bio family.

I had no idea who was picking me up. I exited security and immediately saw my twin and our mini-me. Amy pointed to me and Katie squealed. Amy let go of her hand and my little niece came running. I scooped her up with the reward of having my face covered in kisses. Best welcome ever. Katie wrapped her arms tight around my neck, not letting go even when we got to her mom. I was shocked by Amy's appearance. I held Katie with one arm and hugged her, "We haven't looked so identical since we were thirteen." I combed my fingers through her shoulder-length hair that was now nearly the same color as mine.

Amy put her head back and shook out her hair, "Took three visits to get the red out and tone down the brassiness."

I smiled, "If I say you look gorgeous is that vain?"

"Definitely, but also true." She hooked her arm in mine and we headed to baggage claim. "The parental units want us to drop by the hospital before heading home. They took off Monday and Tuesday. They have a full schedule for you."

I rolled my eyes, "You can fill me in as we drive. Anything we talk about I'll just have to repeat when we get to them. Right now, I want to hear from my munchkin baby girl." I tickled Katie, getting her laughing and successfully avoiding questions. I'd figure out when to tell them about Sebastian when I heard what was planned. My tentative plan was for tonight at dinner.

Katie told me all about her preschool and her toys while we waited for my suitcase and halfway to the hospital. She only stopped when her favorite song came through the speakers. After a rousing rendition of "There's a Hole in the Bottom of the Sea" I turned my attention to Amy. "What's the plan?"

"Today we're on our own until dinner. They said we'll decide on food later. A bunch of people from high school are going out on the lake tomorrow. I thought that would be fun. Mom said they'd keep Katie."

A lot of our old friends still lived in town. I hadn't seen anyone for a couple of years. "Sounds fun."

"Sunday family is coming over. Mom wants to tell you the rest. I promised."

I laughed, "Shopping and a spa day."

"I didn't tell you."

Fifteen minutes later we were swinging Katie between us across the parking lot. Mom and dad were heads of their departments. Neuro for dad and OB/GYN for mom. Our directions were always the same upon our arrival. Sign in and proceed to the fourth-floor doctor's cafe. Security would have paged them and they'd meet us there. I got coffee for us and ice cream for Katie.

Mom arrived first. She was the blond hair, blue-eyed version of me. Dad had dark hair and blue eyes. Amy and I were a great combination of them. Mom had us young and was not quite fifty. They always said we were planned, but who the hell plans kids right after graduating from college. Mom deferred her first year of med school. We had a wonderful nanny.

After a long hug, mom held my hands and stood back to look at me. "You look beautiful as always. Maybe a little tired."

Such a mom thing to say. "I was up late and slept on the plane."

She nodded and hugged me again, "A day by the pool will be good for you."

"Always. I hear family is coming Sunday?"

"A cookout." She looked at Amy then back to me. "I suppose your sister told you about Monday?"

"No." I slowly smirked, "I guessed, but she neither confirmed nor denied."

"Your father's going to give Wendy the day off and spend the day with Katie while we do a bit of shopping then a trip to the spa." She fingered my hair. "Maybe cut some of this."

I pushed her hand away playfully, "Nope."

I felt hands on my shoulders before hearing my dad’s voice, "I can not imagine what you'd look like with shorter hair."

I looked up and behind me with an incredulous look on my face. I pointed across the table at my twin. The one with shorter hair, "Possibly exactly like her?"

"No, you two look nothing alike." Worst dad joke ever. He took me away from mom and hugged me. "How is my youngest daughter?"

"Good. Waking up."

Dad sat on the opposite side of me from mom. "I've never understood how you fall asleep so fast on a plane."

"I like to float."

I turned my attention to mom, "Are we still on for Tuesday?" Mom did exams at a local woman’s shelter. The head counselor, Stacy, had worked at the rehab facility I’d been hidden away in. Going to visit her and the women was always the highlight of any trip back.

"Stacy is excited to see you."

"And me her."

She put her hand over mine," Not a problem to move my day."

"Thank you."

A man who looked to be a few years older than me approached our table. From the ID badge on his white coat, I knew his name was. Dr. Burns and he was a Neuro Fellow.

"Dr. Marcum, I didn't know you had two beautiful daughters and granddaughter."

"I’m overrun with beautiful women. I'm very lucky."

"Of course," he looked at my mom, “Dr. Marcum as well."

I looked at Amy to see her cover her mouth with her hand. Eligible doctor as bait was new.

Dad introduced us, "Emma is down from New York for a long weekend. Always hoping we can persuade her to move back home."

I looked at the bait, "I hope he's as clear with what he wants from you."

Bait laughed, "I'm lucky to have the opportunity to train with your father."

I was feeling like a prize to be won. Thankfully, there was someone else who thought I was a prize in a less icky way. I didn't respond to bait, preferring to take a drink of my coffee.

"I need to check post-ops. Nice to meet you, Emma. I'll see you upstairs, Dr. Marcum." He nodded to my mom and was off.

Amy burst out laughing, "Oh dad, that was horrible."

"What?" He shrugged, "Young, single, wants to stay here in Alpharetta. We could invite him to dinner. I know his schedule."

I groaned. I guess now was the time. "I appreciate your attempt to lure me back, but I don’t think my boyfriend would like me going on a date with someone who isn't him."

Amy perked up, "Boyfriend?"

"There's a picture of us on Instagram. I’ve been waiting for you to comment.”

"No!" She whipped out her phone. "This picture of the volleyball tournament is the only... oh wait... there is a man wrapped around you. I didn't pay attention."

"Let us see," my mom took the phone. "This is too small. Plus, he's hidden behind you in a hat. We can barely see him."

"He must be ugly." Amy stole a bite of Katie's ice cream.

"He is not ugly."

"Deformed in some way. A huge hairy mole in the center of his forehead like a third eye."

I laughed at her, "Are we thirteen again?"

"Thirteen was fun."

My parents were enjoying our banter, I was too. Mom looked at me, "Do you have a better picture?"

"I do." I pulled up the one from the festival with the teddy bear. "This was a couple of weeks ago. I won the bear."

I handed my phone to mom. Her eyebrows raised. "Not deformed. Or Ugly. Not even close. He looks familiar."

Amy took my phone and in under two seconds looked at me with her mouth hanging open, "Carter Baizen?"

"I didn't know you watched Gossip Girl?" I was in Seattle before it premiered.

"Everyone at school did. I only pretended I didn’t."

Dad took my phone, instantly smiling, "You look like you're having fun."

I laughed, "It was a fun day."

Mom looked at me then Amy, "Who is Carter?"

"He was a character in Gossip Girl. Hot, but an ass. The actor who played him went on to in the Marvel Movies as the Winter Soldier."

Dad scrunched up his face, "The brain damaged assassin who killed Tony’s mother?"

"Yes." I was not about to argue brain washed versus brain damaged with a neurosurgeon. "His name is Sebastian Stan."

I took my phone back and swiped to a picture of us at the volleyball tournament. Dad raised his eyebrows with a nod. Mom said, "He's very handsome."

Amy smirked, "If I swipe will I find nudes."

"Sorry, no."

"No, I won’t find them or no you don’t have any."

"Don't have."

"Damn."

I don't know what I expected from Amy, but this wasn't it. I hadn't told them about Jimmy. I just brought him home. He was the last real boyfriend. Amy’s current reaction was much more typical of early high school. My parents looked cautious.

Amy cut her eyes up to me, "Kissing in the dark restaurant. Go you, little sister."

Dad turned his attention to me, "Is this serious?"

I could feel the tension leech out of me and my face soften with a smile, "Yes, it is."

"When do we get to meet him?"

I shrugged, "We can FaceTime him after dinner. He's getting ready for a role and is home."

"I'm looking forward to meeting him." Mom put her hand on my arm. "What's he like?"

"He's very sweet. Awkward at times and trips over himself. We laugh all the time and have these great conversations about books, movies, and music. He's very good to me." I didn't want to talk non-stop about him. I wanted them to know of him and over the weekend they'd learn about him. About us. "I'm sure you'll get sick of hearing about him. What are we doing for dinner tonight?"

Katie yelled, "Pizza!"

"I love pizza." There was an amazing pizza place near the house. We’d been going there since we were Katie’s age.

Amy agreed with me, "Easy and we don't have to get out of the pool."

I looked at my arm, "I desperately need a tan."

Dad stood up, "I'm going to get back to work so I can get out of here to enjoy my girls."

"Tell Dr. Friendly the date's off."

Dad glared at Amy. I didn't try to hide my smile. Mom stood while shaking her head. I got up and hugged them. I stayed still while they walked away then looked at Amy, "Let's get out of here. Can I drive?" I was feeling a little out of control and needed to be in charge of driving.

Amy threw me the keys, "As long as you can talk and drive."

Any guesses what the topic of conversation was? The drive home wasn’t long. Walking into the house I felt much more at ease. I think I was more nervous than I was aware of. Sebastian's important.

Amy handed Katie off to the nanny, Wendy. That felt familiar. We'd grown up in this house. This scene had happened innumerable times when we walked into the house. I waved when Katie turned on her way downstairs to her playroom. I followed Amy up the stairs to my room. She stopped at my door, "Are you going to unpack? And call Sebastian?"

"No." I shook my head, "I'll do both later. Can you send me the picture of me with Katie at the airport?"

"Absolutely. We'll be thirty soon. Bio-clock is ticking."

I was aghast, "Amelia! Our mother is an Ob/Gyn. You know that's not true." We laughed.

"Ok, so he can see how good you look with a kid."

I sighed dramatically, "Everything is not about Sebastian. Plain old Instagram. Me and my niece." I’m not playing those games with him. "The picture I'm going to have you take of me in my bikini... that's all about him."

That perked her up, "We'll get Wendy to take a twin picture."

I rolled my eyes, "He'll enjoy that too."

Five minutes later I was jogging down the stairs and heading out the French doors. The water was sparkling with the sunlight. It was hot and sticky outside making floating perfect. I threw a couple of towels on the loungers and threw two floats into the pool. Amy was coming out the door as I grabbed my phone off the table. I unlocked before handing it to her.

Amy followed me around the pool, "Remember when we'd pretend we were models and take pictures of our fashion shows?"

"I do. Our phones would be full of them. I’ll need to learn more editing skills when the wrinkles show up."

Amy rubbed at the corners of her eyes, "Crows feet already."

"I have a great eye cream." She took some of me then we got Wendy to take a couple of us, ending with us floating in the pool holding hands. I hopped onto the pool edge and took my phone back. I waited for Wendy to go inside, "Ok, jump out and take one more of me on the float.” Amy took my phone and I took off my bikini, lying face down on the float.

"I cannot believe I'm partaking in this."

"Oh please, who better. It's my naked ass and yours looks identical."

"My ass doesn't look like that anymore. Pregnancy stretched that out too."

I looked at my twin in her black one-piece with cut out sides. She always had the thinner body I wanted. After Katie, she'd not lost the last bit of baby weight from her stomach and her butt. "You look great, Amy."

She put her hands over her breasts, "These have stayed a little bigger too."

"I think I’m insulted."

Taking the picture Amy asked, "Are you going to turn over?"

"Absolutely not."

"Seriously? He has seen it, right?"

"Yes." I slid into the water and started putting my suit back on. Anything that naked he or I was taking.

Amy was back on her float before I was on mine, "I've sent nudes. Not just my butt."

"To whom, dear sister?"

"It's been years ago now. He lives in Marietta. I met him at a playground with Katie. Single parents’ version of a bar. Only he was pretending to be single."

I cringed, "Ouch, I'm sorry. How did you find out?"

"When his wife called me from his phone. We'd been seeing each other for a couple of months I thought I was falling in love with him, but I was just a side piece. He wanted to keep it going even after." She shuddered, "Not mistress material."

I made a decision to trust her with something. It had been a long time, "I never told you why Jimmy and I broke up. He'd been cheating with another lawyer in his firm for months. As the one who was cheated on, I thank you for refusing to go on with it once you knew."

"Did you know the other woman?"

"Yep, even considered her a friend."

"I'm always paranoid now that there's a hidden wife. After Jimmy do you worry Sebastian will cheat?"

I didn't need to think, but I took a moment anyway. "I'm not worried about him cheating. I don't think he would. If he does... I've survived it before."

We shared a look I hadn't anticipated. We’d both survived things. I reached for her hand. "I love you, Amelia."

"Love you too, Emiliana."

"What about now? Seeing anyone."

"Maybe sorta. Back after Christmas a bunch of us from high school got together. Max was there. He's divorced with a daughter in first grade. He has custody and wanted to wait until summer to move back so his parents can help with her. We texted and talked some. He moved back a couple of weeks ago. We've gone out to dinner. It was good. He'll be there tomorrow."

I remembered Max very well. He was a baseball player who looked very good in those pants. He was a year ahead of us and I had no idea what he'd done after high school. I didn't keep up with anyone except the occasional text or Instagram from a couple of girls on the volleyball team. Anything I knew was tidbits from Amy. She'd tried to get me to go to her five and ten year reunion, but I didn't graduate from here. I went to my reunions back in Seattle. Kept up with more friends from there and saw them when I was home. "Didn't you have a crush on Max?"

I recognized the smile on Amy's face. She looked just like me when I'd been caught. "He won't let me forget."

We laid in the pool laughing and talking. It had been a long time since I'd felt this close to her. I can't be sure if that's her, me, or a little of both. Doesn't matter because it was just good and before we knew it mom and dad were home. They brought Katie with them out to the pool deck. "We sent Wendy home. Just family this weekend."

Amy sat up, "Remember we're going out on the lake tomorrow."

Mom smiled, "I remember. Are you two hungry?"

The second she mentioned food my stomach growled. I put my hand over, "Very."

A discussion about pizza toppings ensued. At the end I got out of the pool, "I'm going shower before the food gets here."

Amy followed, "Me too."

#Sebastian Stan #fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfiction

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metaphysical-human-being · 4 years

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Switcheroo 6

A/N: Why hello! How are you? Anyway, I’m back with more switcheroo! This one is a bit of an emotional rollercoaster but I hope you like it!

Warnings: swearing, yelling, small food mention, telling someone they're unwanted, ig unsymp Roman and Remus(I don’t know, they're just being mean to each other). I think that’s all, tell me if there are more!

Summary: Dinner is ready!

No one else is.

You can’t really blame Logan for not knowing how bad of an idea this was.

Roman refused to utter the name of the twin he had and neither Eliana nor George could remember the name of the kid they had rejected. They felt no need and now they couldn’t remember the name for the life of them so Logan never knew his name.

So when De had told him that he had a child named Remus who went to the same school that Logan taught, he thought nothing of it. He couldn't remember a student named Remus so he just assumed he didn't have him.

He wasn't wrong...kinda. He did have Remus but that was a class Roman and him were supposed to share so he was switched. Logan didn't really know that though. He knew he was supposed to have a new kid but he never showed then he just wasn't there.

If Logan had known...had taken one good look at Remus before tonight...well, we can't live on the what ifs now can we?

It was a Friday evening. The sun was setting, turning the sky a mixture of red and blues and pinks as it went down. The suburban orange street lights began to flicker on, alerting the neighborhood children to go inside and wash up for dinner. They could play all they wanted tomorrow but they do have things to do. The birds began to chirp they're final tunes as they flew to their nests and the night critters got ready to rumble. It was a truly calm and homely scene, the neighborhood.

Well, if you don't count the numerous items being thrown at people. Or the screaming. Or the rushing around and intense last minute cleaning.

“Roman!¿Has puesto la mesa?” Eliana called to Roman from her position in the kitchen.

“¡Si mamá! ¡También limpié el baño! ” Roman answered from the dining room, ducking at the random cooking item that Logan had managed to dodge. Eliana thanked him before going back to screaming at Logan about stirring the meringue wrong.

“It’s crazy,” his father had said, coming up from behind Roman. It was obvious he had just finished getting ready and was as excited about the dinner as Roman thought he’d be. His dad was an introvert, hated things like fancy dinner or parties. “Your mother wants to impress him more than Logan does.” he chuckled and Roman did too.

Truth be told, Roman was really excited to meet Logans’ new boyfriend. Ever since Roman had first been adopted he’d never seen Logan with someone. A few dates here and there but never anything serious. The first day Logan had met his new partner he had spent that entire dinner time going on about how amazing he looked and how he “couldn’t believe someone that hot could be so adorable why in the hell does my heart feel like this Eli I think I may be having a heart attack.”

He wasn’t but it was still amazing to see Logan so happy.

“You know mother dearest,” Roman smiled. "Always wants to make a good first impression."

"You're right. That's why I fell in love with her," his father smiled, a far away look in his eye. Roman tapped him on the arm to bring him back from the memory of his first meeting with his mother. One he talked about often.

After another 25 minutes and a lot more screaming there was a ring at the door. It ceased the chaos for all of five seconds before more started up. This time they were rushing to clean up the kitchen and making sure they looked perfect for the first meeting.

At his mother's instructions, Roman went to go make sure the table was straight. He didn't meet them at the door, only heard their voices. One sounded deep and suave. Elegant is definitely a word that would be used to describe that person.

The other voice...was familiar. A voice he knew he'd heard before. A voice that stirred something in Roman but he ignored it. Although he didn't ignore the name the elegant voice had used to address the familiar one. Roman stiffened.

"And in the dining room, our son Roman is making sure everything is perfect. He just loves helping," he heard his mother brag as they made their way to the dining entrance. A loving and cheerful voice that was a stark contrast to the booming one before.

They stood at the entrance. All looking at the sheer terror on Romans face. All the adults were confused. The teen however was not.

"Remus."

"Roman."

"You two know each other?" Logan asked, looking between the two. Something seemed to click just a second later when his eyes noticeably widened.

"Of course," Roman drawled, a strained smile on his face. "How could I not recognize my own twin?"

"So, Desmond-"

"Call me De."

"De, of course," his mother smiled at the man. The one she used for all guests but a bit...softer. "What do you do? Logan told me that you two met at that new café?"

De set down his fork and wiped at his mouth.

"I actually own that café and a few others around the country."

"Oh," George piped up, intrigued by the new information. "Was there a reason you picked North Carolina?" He asked. De nodded.

"I was looking to move-"

"Cus Remus got his ass kicked out of school."

"And I found an empty building in the area. It seemed nice, good weather, so I found a house and started construction."

"That place has been under construction for a few months. I remember driving by it. Wanted to check it out." Eliana said, shooting a glare at her son. She wasn't the only one. Logan had learned how to perfect the "angry mom glare™" and was shooting him one too.

Remus stiffened but kept quiet. Something he knew De would be proud of.

"So, Remus, what is your favorite subject in school?" Logan asked him. It was the first time Logan had met Remus as well so he decided to try and talk to him. If all went well he'd be seeing a lot more of him.

Remus finished chewing his food before looking at Logan. He held his gaze but made sure Roman was listening.

"I don't really know." He answered, truthfully. "Although I've never really been fond of theater. Too...girly." he said, shifting his gaze to look at Roman. De shot him a glare and kicked him lightly under the table. Remus flinched slightly at the assault but didn't say anymore.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Roman broke it.

"So, mother, I heard about this new thing. A study was done. Basically, the younger twins are a lot more likely to be immature and just altogether more hideous than the older." Roman had said. It was a lie and he knew everyone knew that too but it didn't stop Remus from scowling.

"Actually, dad," he had hissed, looking to De. "I saw this thing that said that twins that were born first are highly more likely to have a shitty personality-”

“Oh I’m the one with a shitty personality?” Roman snapped, slamming his fist down on the table. All other people at the table seemed to blend into the background as Roman and Remus stared each other down.

“I have to say,” Remus sat up straight, hands in his lap. “I’m proud that you seem to know all these new words. All that summer school you had to go to seemed to help. Even idiots can learn new things!”

“God you’re insufferable!” Roman hissed, shooting daggers at Remus. Remus shot back with a glare of his own.

“Ha! Jokes on you, I don't know what that word means!” Remus shot back, crazed smirk making its way to its familiar place on Remus’ face.

“It means you’re a pain in the neck!”

“Insulting me like this, Ro? I am a guest in your home and this is how you treat me? For a failed Disney prince I woulda thought you had better manners than that.”

“You’re not a guest,” Roman snarled, rising from his seat. “You’re an unwanted parasite!”

“Ha! As if I hadn’t heard that one before!” Remus scoffed, rising from his seat as well.

“Which part? Parasite or unwanted? Let me take a wild guess!”

Something in Remus seemed to switch. His eyes lowered along with his voice and he growled, actually growled, at Roman. Roman was on real thin ice. One wrong step and he’ll have crossed a line no human besides Roman would even dare think to cross.

“You’re on thin ice you spoiled little brat!” Remus said, something feral shining in his eyes. Roman smirked.

“What? Can’t handle the truth?” Roman laughed. This made Remus growl again.

“You wouldn’t know the truth if it hit you in your flat ass.”

“My ass is not flat you twat!”

“Boys, enough.” George said, placing his cutlery down on the table. Neither boys listened or made any move that showed that they heard him.

“Lemme tell you a bit of truth, Roman.” Remus growled, inching his face closer to Romans. “Right now...you’re making me rethink whether or not I regret getting rid of you four years ago.”

Roman seemed to mentally recoil as the rest of the table drew in a unanimous breath. The mental slap in the face hitting in all the wrong places for Roman. It made him want to run to his room and cry. Or hurt Remus. He chose the latter.

“Well, brother of mine,” he sneered, inching close just like Remus had. “You being here right now...I can see why no one wanted you.” he muttered, so low everyone had to strain their ears to hear. Remus stood up straight at that. Roman followed suit.

“That’s not-”

“That's not true? Hm? Is that what you were gonna say? ‘Cus I know that would be one huge ass lie!” Roman yelled, voice upbeat but so utterly condescending. “You know all those families? All those families that didn’t want us? Well, News flash! They didn't want you!” Roman screamed, pointing a rigid finger in Remus’ direction.

Remus stood, body stoic. Lips pursed and waiting. Waiting for the final blow that he knew was gonna come.

“I bet your Dad didn’t even want you.” Roman laughed. “I bet you were nothing more than a pitiful sight and he just couldn’t stand to leave you in the orphanage. Could he?”

Remus looked around at the others at the table. The adults who had been silent as they watched the countdown to the explosion on the fragile bomb that was Roman and Remus’ relationship. Tears welled in his eyes and deep down, deep deep down, Roman felt satisfaction.

Deeper down though, in a place Roman had tried all too hard to bury, he felt like a monster.

He felt horrible because he had vowed to never hurt Remus the day, the minute, the moment he learned that Remus was his family.

He still remembers it. He had been four and had watched Lilo and stitch for the first time. Ever the curious toddler, he had asked a caregiver what family was. What it meant and did he have one. He knew he had a brother, but didn’t know about a family.

“You do have a family,” she had said, pointing at Remus who was attempting to eat a Lego person. “He’s your family.” she had explained in the simplest way.

“What does that mean?” he had asked her and she knew what he meant. What he was really asking.

What did it mean to be a family?

“Well,” she had said, crouching down off the couch and onto the floor, right in front of Roman.

“Family are the people you care about no matter what. You love and protect them and they love and protect you. They may get on your nerves sometimes but...you'll always be there for them. You’ll never forget them. You’ll never not love them.” she said, going slow and Roman hung onto every word.

He looked at Remus, chewing on the tiny Lego person, and suddenly ohana had a whole new meaning.

Ohana means family and family means nobody gets left behind, forgotten or hurt.

Ohana means family and family meant Remus.

Ohana had become their new ‘I love you’. It was something perfect for their little two person family and every time one of them got hurt or they got in a fight they’d tell each other ohana and watch the movie that soon became their favorite.

After that day though, Roman tried to leave Remus in his past. Tried to forget him and move on and now he had hurt him.

Younger him would be so disappointed in him right now.

Remus looked at everyone frozen at the table, eyes shiny. He looked to De with a pleading look. He was begging him with his eyes to tell him that wasn’t true but De was frozen. No one knew exactly how to react and Des’ mind was moving far too slow to recognize the look Remus was sending him.

He gave one final, heartbreaking look to Roman. Roman knew what was gonna happen. He did it whenever he felt like crying but didn’t want anyone to see him.

Remus turned around and ran. Right out of the dining room and right out the door.

Within seconds Roman crumbled to the ground in a ball of tears and all hell broke loose.

Those who want to be tagged:

@datfearlessfangirl

@queer-human-being

@annoyingindeed

@deceitslimysanders

@mynamehasbeenstolen

@healthyboybrand

@lasilhouetteinbianco

@thetrombonewhisperer

@gayturtlez

#bob rites #switcheroo #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #deceit sanders #tw swearing #tw yelling #food mention #unsymp roman?#unsymp remus?

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prodigalscns · 4 years

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( RUDY PANKOW. TWENTY FIVE. CIS MALE. HE/HIM. ) in texas, MONROE ST. THOMAS is known to most as ROE. they have been riding with the diablos for THREE YEARS. they’re originally from ISLE OF PALMS, SOUTH CAROLINA and the RIDER is known to be very CYNICAL & SARCASTIC but the other club members will tell you they are CREATIVE & PERCEPTIVE. as the years go by, they’ve gained a lot of respect in the club and around town. they rarely ever drive a car but when they do BLACK HONEY by THRICE is usually heard blasting. ( the softest brush of bruised knuckles across the jawline, the squeal of tires from the getaway car & praying for rain to wash the blood away. )

BASIC

FULL NAME: Monroe James St. Thomas.

DATE OF BIRTH: 26 July.

PLACE OF BIRTH: Isle of Palms, South Carolina.

ZODIAC: Leo.

GENDER: Cis Male.

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: He/Him.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual.

RELIGION/SPIRITUAL BELIEF: Lapsed Catholic.

LANGUAGES: English, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Arabic, ASL.

PHYSICAL

HAIR COLOUR: Blonde.

EYE COLOUR: Blue.

WEIGHT: 67 kg / 147 lbs.

HEIGHT: Six Feet, Two Inches (6'2).

BODY TYPE: Lean/Fit, yet muscular.

TATTOOS: Dates marked in roman numerals on both wrists. “Trust your struggle” in his mothers cursive writing across his collar bone (right side). Geometric beach scene arm band, left arm. Custom side piece designed with his older brother, similar to this. Outline of the city of Dallas over his heart.

PIERCINGS: Nose, Left side. Ears ( 8g ).

SCARS & DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Upside down horseshoe shaped birthmark, right shoulder blade. Old grease burns on forearms, several small work related scars decorating hands and palms. Several faded scars that look like glass shards across back and shoulder blades, along with a pronounced yet old scar stretching the side that is not covered with the tattoo.

ACCENT/TONE: All deep bass and the kind of baritone that can warm even the coldest night, with a touch of twang that is often used to his advantage. He knows he sounds good, and he’s just pretty enough for some people to let him keep talking, no matter what he may be saying.

DOMINANT HAND: Right. However, Monroe is almost comfortable enough to call himself ambidextrous due to circumstances that surround his childhood, and him having to learn to use his left for quite some time.

PERSONALITY && INSIGHT

POSITIVE: Protective, Loyal, Creative, Observant, Charming, Dedicated, Witty.

NEGATIVE: Sarcastic, Cynical, Possessive, Reckless, Outspoken, Volatile.

VICES: Cursing, Pretty Faces, Perfectly Rolled Blunts, Open Space, Indulgence.

HABITS: His accent gets a little bit more pronounced the drunker he gets, especially where tequila is involved. Toying with the class ring that is constantly tied around his neck, he never takes it off. The tendency to fidget or avoid questions that he doesn’t want to answer.

FAMILIAL

MOTHER: Magdalena “Maggie” St. Thomas, Deceased.

FATHER: Bradley St. Thomas, Absent since age 12.

SIBLINGS: Smith St. Thomas (Brother, Oldest), Kase St. Thomas (Brother, Youngest), Dallas St. Thomas (Sister, Fraternal Twin, Deceased.)

PETS: Three adopted dogs (Miles, Ella, and Dizzy).

BIOGRAPHY

The middle children are the ones that are born with tragedy in their bones. They always said that Monroe absorbed all his sisters hurt in the womb, his very first act somehow becoming one of protection. To him, the statement now rang with bittersweet irony, but that’s the story’s tendency to get ahead of itself. In the beginning they were the perfect picture of the American dream, the one that was bought and sold, embraced with open arms. Sure, the floors in the old beach house were always dirty, and his father worked longer than he ever should have had to in order to keep their plates full, but they made it. Maggie started working again after the kids had all started school, breathing a sigh of relief with Kase finally passed that milestone birthday that would allowed her to begin taking the steps to contribute.

By then, his older brother had already begun taking on the family’s burdens, a nervous habit that had long since been coined as the family curse. He knew now that it was guilt that drove him to take that step, a strange since of misplaced shamed in the secret he was about to reveal to them all. The night that the words left his lips, they all remember it differently. It was a confessional that should have been met with love and support, but the scar that the two eldest boys were left with was one that had no chance at healing. The only part of the memory that seemed intent on sticking around was the sound of skin meeting skin in a vicious chorus, and the darkening bruise that formed as a direct result of the backhand that would eventually become the soundtrack to their demise.

That’s right, his brother came out to his family, and Bradley’s first reaction was to take his feelings out on Smith physically, in front of the entire family. It didn’t matter if the bible had fanned the flames of his intolerance, or taught him some misplaced wrong rooted in sexuality, what did matter? Maggie wasn’t going to stand for it. Two weeks later, Bradley left without a word, or a single cent, in his wake. The abandonment of his family seemed easy, and they never received the decency of an apology or even the watchful eye of shame. Nothing, not a single word, and his name became a welcomed taboo in the story, dad was the dirtiest curse word to ever leave any of their lips.

Monroe didn’t talk about the nightmares that plagued him in the weeks after, but Smith always seemed to be awake right in time to shake him out of them. The silent agreement to keep secrets between siblings, a small bond that eventually cemented the lines of love between the two. It was no surprise to anyone that he followed his brothers bravery, coming out in a different way, with a different result: he was more into people, rather than the concern with their gender. who, they were, not what. There were welcome arms, acceptance was offered in free fall, because he needed it, and maybe it was that helped them all heal from the things that they still didn’t know how to speak of. What it didn’t do, was fill the gap that was created by their fathers (if you could even call him that) absence. Eventually, all five of them learned what it was like to be hungry, all the things that Maggie had desperately been trying to keep them away from. Some lessons weren’t meant to be learned, she’d say.

Smith graduated high school the same year, a full ride scholarship meaning that Monroe was the next to fall victim to the aforementioned curse that came with crushing weight on the shoulders of every member, but especially him. Life seemed to have a fucked up way of changing lanes, though. Maggie was running late, in the rain, to one of her many jobs. It was an unfortunate side effect of her newly minted single motherhood, after all. Dallas was in the car, to be dropped off at the baby sitter, but they would never make it there. The skidding sound of wet tires on warm asphalt, the high pitched screams of metal twisting metal, it all added another track added to the symphony of this tragedy.

You’re so lucky. It’s a miracle. The statements are repeated over and over, like a broken record, but they turn his stomach every time. A miracle, any God, would have either sent him away with his sister, the one he had been born trying to protect, and his mother, who would have died for him time and time again. The first time he told this to a therapist, the change in their expression announced what would be his first forced commitment, something that no one expected, and it tore all his buried scars wide open. Maybe that’s why they say rehab always feels like you’re bleeding out.

Two months later, the only thing he was permitted out for was the funeral. His brothers came to visit three times a week, and often, they would cling to each other like the the last straws left in what felt like a burning building. After month three, he was released with false promises of therapy, with fake smiles that said he would take care of it, and the only reason he did seek out a way to cope was to honor the memory of his mother. Speaking of her memory, the one thing the remaining pieces of their broken family didn’t see coming, was the settlement from the other driver’s family, or his mother’s life insurance policies. Some people said their new money was a blessing.

Still far too young to take care of themselves in the eyes of the state, they were shipped off to Texas, an uncle that was willing to take them on, if only because of the dollar signs attached to their names. It was no surprise that his family outside of the ones he’d lost were trash, but when that went so far as to leave the boys out in the cold, there wasn’t much he could do. He’d turned to the club for help, sleeping on the floor in the clubhouse with his younger brother until he was old enough to prospect. The only family he needed then, outside of his brothers, was the club.

Much to everyone’s surprise, he inherited a decent sum of money when he turned twenty one, but that was holed away from when he would inevitability need it. Their lifestyle was not kind, nor was it forgiving, and eventually he would need to pay for the outlet to his rage, pay for the way he’d forgotten what he’d learned in rehab, and pay for the sins he’d committed in the name of both family and survival. The settlement money was a secret he didn’t tell, not even to the club, but perhaps he should have. His memories weren’t for public display, he told himself. His tragedy didn’t need to be played out next to the soundtrack of his demise. Instead, lips would remain sealed, focusing on the here and now, rather than the scars that still stung.

#[ monroe st. thomas | about. ]#rideintro.

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obscuritas-est-lux · 4 years

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( emmy rossum, cisfemale, she/her ) ⌇ have you seen Harper Robbins around icaria? they are the 34 year old child of amphitrite. they remind me of ocean waves, southern sweet tea, and burnt homemade cookies. They’ve been on the island for 6 months.

Full Name: Harper Elfrida Robbins Nickname: Harp, Elfie Age: 34 Birthday: April 21 Sexuality: Bisexual Occupation: Marine Biologist/ Marine Mammal Specialist Powers: Hydrokinetic Aura and ability to communicate with Dolphins and some other sea mammals

Family History:

Thornton Barrow was a southern boy through and through specifically a 10th generation Georgian. His family owned the Wormsloe Mansion that was located in the Isle of Hope. In 1976 most of the land about 750 acres was given over to the Nature Convervatory. The state then opened up Wormsloe Historical Site but the house and some of the land around 50 acres was still maintained by the family. Thornton knew that he was going to inherit his ancestral homestead one day. He was raised in the Isle of Hope. Thornton was fortunate enough to attend boarding schools and had life pretty much given to him on a silver platter. He had everything he had ever wanted in life. While his father was in charge of Wormsloe Mansion he was able to live his life how he saw fit of course with some conditions.

Thornton went to the University of Georgia just like his father did. He spent most of this time partying and screwing around. Underneath his playboy appearance there was a smart southern gentleman. He just never decided to show himself unless there was some need of course. Or if his parents were around. Thornton had just turned 20 he decided he was going to use one of his family’s boat and sail from Georgia down to Florida. He was going to meet his friends while they were all on vacation. While he was on his way to Florida his boat was capsized in a major storm. He couldn’t remember much from the storm but he remembered seeing a woman pulling him to shore. Just like in the movie that would become the Little Mermaid. Thornton woke up on the sand but instead of like in the movie where the woman Thornton speak this woman gave him a piece of his mind. She yelled and carried on about all the things he had dumped into the ocean and how stupid he was for going out during hurricane season. He didn’t really pay much attention to what she was saying because he was too focused on how beautiful she was.

Needless to say Thornton had decided to make it his one and only goal to win that woman over. Little did he know what the cost of his efforts was going to be. The woman who called herself Doris was not actually a typical woman at all. Thornton spent the summer with Doris instead of continuing his journey to meet his friends. He was surprised every day that she came back to see him. As their affection grew for each other so did their relationship. He had fallen in love with the woman and wanted to bring her home. The fact that her boat was never found and she seemed to come out of nowhere never crossed his mind. At the end of the summer it was time for Thornton to head back to Athens and college. He begged Doris to come with him. She said she couldn’t. But she wanted him to meet her back at the beach where they washed ashore after he graduated. He agreed and went back. Thornton never forgot about her. He spent that entire year only thinking about her. He graduated in May of 1986. As soon as he could he traveled down to the small beach where he had said goodbye to the woman he loved. With a ring in his pocket he rushed over to her. Thornton was met with a surprise. When Doris turned around she was holding an infant.

Doris explained to him that she was actually Amphitrite and was already married to the God of the Sea. She handed over their child to him and begged him to take care of her and love their child the way he had loved her. Thornton agreed but was deeply saddened when Amphitrite informed him that she could not be with him. She did say if he came to this spot on the day of the crash, July 7th he may be able to see her. Thornton took his child back home to the Isle of Hope. His parents had just moved into the Wormsloe Mansion; he asked that they take care of his child while he got his life together. The Barrows agreed wanting to keep everything under wraps. They did not want the world to know that their son Thornton Barrow had an illegitimate child.

At his parents push Thornton married his childhood friend and family acquaintance Anna Raines. Her family had lived in Savannah while she was a small child and moved to England. Anna and her family lived in London until her Grandfather became sick in 1986. The family came back to help her Grandparents. While being home again Anna ran into Thornton who as a child she had a major crush on. Whenever she came over from England to visit her grandparents Anna liked to make a trip over to Wormsloe where she would hopefully see him. This time instead of finding Thornton she found his parents with a three month old child. She was of course confused but instantly fell in love with the girl.

Seeing how much Anna loved the baby The Barrows convinced the Raines that Anna and Thornton should be married. Thornton was still heart broken over the mother of his child and agreed to whatever his parents asked of him. Two weeks later Anna and Thornton were married on the grounds of Wormsloe Mansion. Anna adopted the baby girl and she was named Harper. Anna and Thornton moved to Savannah where they could raise their child without speculation. Around a year after their marriage Anna gave birth to Palmer Thornton Barrow. the true heir of the family.

History:

Harper grew up much like her father. She went to boarding school, had tutors, had to take etiquette classes. Everything in her life was about how people saw you. She had to be seen in the right clothes, with the right people and of course doing the upstanding thing. Even though she was older than her brother he always received more attention. He was the heir of Wormsloe Mansion after all. Because of this Harper grew to have a bit of a rebellious side. She would constantly push the limit to see how far and how much her parents would let her get away with.

When it was time for her to go to college she was expected to go to the University of Georgia just like her father and his father. Harper had other plans. Since she grew up visiting the Isle of Hope and other beach areas Harper felt at home with the water. When she was little they would have to pull her kicking and screaming away. She wasn’t sure when she decided she wanted to be a marine biologist. After visiting a bunch of schools in Georgia and South Carolina, Harper landed on Emory University in Atlanta. At first she fought with her father on the issue. He wanted her to have the best education and be able to have all the extras he got to have as a student. Harper wanted to go some place where people had no idea who she was. She wanted to be able to say her last name and not have someone ask about her father or grandfather like they had been best friends with them. Finally her father agreed.

Harper headed off to college with bright eyes and an open heart. It wasn’t long into her Freshman year that she had slid into the party life just like her father before her. One night she went to a Fraternity party that was hosted by Morehouse College. It was at this party where she met Malik. Harper was more like her father than she would have admitted. Just like him she fell head over heals for a man she just met. He was charming and sweet. He also happened to be the most handsome man she’d ever met. The two quickly started spending more and more time together. They started to date. Harper never mentioned her family in detail. It wasn’t until a family day her senior year, 3 years after they had started dating that her family ever met Malik. It didn’t go very well.

Harper graduated ready to start the next section of her life. Malik was working on his passion and always encouraged her to do the same. Right after she had graduated Harper applied to Graduate school in Charleston. On their anniversary Malik asked Harper to marry him, without her family’s blessing and she did. They had a small church wedding with his family and their college friends. Harper thought her parents were not going to show up since they had told her when she announced her engagement they did not approve. It was a shock to everyone that Thornton and Anna Barrow attended the wedding and Thornton walked Harper down the aisle. Everything seemed great. Harper was working on her Master’s degree and Malik was working towards his goals. They were happy.

When Harper was 24 she had just finished Grad school and was searching for jobs. She landed a job on a research boat. Harper had been obsessed with marine mammals for as long as she could remember. There was nothing more that she wanted to do then be on the water and researching. So with her husband’s support Harper took the job and started to travel. Her job kept her away from home for months at a time. Their once perfect and happy marriage started to fall apart. Living so far from each other was becoming difficult. Harper didn’t want to give up her dream. She decided to offer Malik a divorce. They two wanted different things. Of course that was until the day Harper found out she was pregnant. Harper quit her job as a researcher and started to work at the local aquarium instead.

Things were getting back to normal. She was happy again. She didn’t resent having to quit her dream job. She simply got a new dream. She spent her pregnancy happy and excited. When she went into labor she couldn’t have been more enamored to finally have her babies in her arms. While giving birth there were complications. They were premature and not ready. The twins were sent to the NICU. Harper and Malik were distraught but there was nothing they could do. A week after her babies were born her baby girl did not make it. Her lungs were so under developed. There were many reasons given. Their son, survived but was born deaf. Harper tried her best to be a good mother. She wanted to love her son. She really did but there were sometimes where she couldn’t even look at him. Harper spent the first few months separating herself from everyone.

Malik came home one day to Harper sitting in the living room with the baby crying in the bassinet beside her. She looked like she had been in a daze. That was the moment that he convinced her that she needed help. While in therapy Harper discovered that she was suffering from post partum depression. She spent the next few years getting herself together. She tried to be in Malik and their son’s life the best that she could but whenever she came around her son it would trigger another depressive episode. Finally Harper checked herself into a facility where she could turn her full attention at herself. By this point most of the life and respect that had once been strong between Malik and Harper was now gone. After she came home from the center she filed for divorce.

Ever since the two have been co-parenting their son the best way that they can. Harper is doing much better and even has 50/50 custody of her son. It took a lot of effort and time but she is finally able to love and enjoy being with her son. Everyone has their bad days but she is finally in a good place mentally. She doesn’t regret her choice. She knew she had to do what she did in order to get better so she could be a better mom for her son. While she was visiting her parents her father asked her to go with him somewhere. She left her son with her mother while she traveled to a beach with her father. He knew that she loved the beach.

There was a woman standing on the sand. Who looked no older than her and sort of looked like her. Harper was very confused. Her whole life she had always believed Anna was her mother. Thornton explained to Harper who the woman was and how they met. Harper met her mother for the first time that day. It was also that day that her mother suggested she move her family to an island in Greece. Harper wasn’t about to up and move her family just because some woman who may be her mother said so. She said she’d think about it and then they left.

A few months later the meeting with her “mother” turned into a memory. Harper was offered a lead Dolphin researcher and trainer position at an aquarium in Icaria, Greece. This somehow turned into an opportunity that she couldn’t turn down. The aquarium there had been apart of dolphin sanctuaries research. Harper talked to Malik and told him she was taking the job and begged him to move with her. Strangely enough he agreed. Harper moved to the island 6 months ago with her ex-husband and their son. Things were starting to look up again. She was feeling good and she was turning into a not so bad mother after all.

#harper intro #trigger warning #trigger warning: mental health #trigger warning: death of newborn

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withthewerewolves · 4 years

Text

So I’m writing this fic, currently titled The Stupidest Mpreg Ever Written, and it will never see the light of day. Wymack’s background from it, though, I like. Here it is.

Also I don’t know anything about Pacific Islander culture. I did some googling and I hope there’s nothing offensive in here, but if I’ve messed up please feel free to let me know.

Wymack meets Kevin Day only twice before that fateful banquet.

Kayleigh Day’s exy program is the best in the world. When David gets his acceptance letter, he throws out all the applications his guidance counselor had given him to colleges he would never be able to attend, packs his duffle bag and his exy stick, and leaves his father’s house for Ireland. His father, still drunk from the night before, tells him that if he leaves he can never come back. David doesn’t say that there was never any chance of him returning. From his father, he had gotten only his name and a fear of loud noises.

The program is intense. Exy is new enough that there are no high school or college teams, and David has never played with anyone who knew what they were doing before. He thrives on the competition, on being surrounded by people who love this violent bastard game as much as he does. Every night he falls into bed exhausted and every morning he wakes up grinning.

The program is only supposed to last two years. When David is twenty, the other young adults leave to start little league or pick up teams, bring exy back to their home countries. Kayleigh asks David to stay. She says that he has something special, and she’d like him to continue training with her until the pro teams are ready. No one has ever said David was special before.

She opens up to him more, now that their teacher/student relationship has shifted. They become friends. David thinks Kayleigh is the most incredible person he’s ever known.

With the success of the program, Kayleigh sends invitations to younger students, making arrangements with a local high school. It’s David’s third year in Ireland that he meets Keon Savia.

David got his coloring and a few memories from his mother, but Keon had actually grown up in Samoa. From him David learns a few clumsy phrases in Samoan, a few recipes, and a sense of belonging to a community beyond his father. When he decides to get his arm tattoos, Keon goes with him.

From David, Keon learns how to hold his alcohol, the block that later becomes his signature move, and how to talk to boys. The jury is still out on how useful David’s tutoring was on that last one.

It’s this friendship that brings Keon to Kayleigh’s attention as more than just a student. He’s young, but he joins their evening practices and sits with them at meals. Keon thinks Kayleigh hung the sun. David agrees, but his feelings are starting to get a little...muddled.

When David is twenty one he and Kayleigh start sleeping together. He knows he loves her, but is he in love with her? Could he possibly ask her to love him back? He suspects she has other lovers and this doesn’t bother him. It’s her heart that he covets.

When David is twenty two she starts talking about the pro teams in America. Exy is taking hold there. There’s still more progress to be made, but if he went pro, there would be enough talent to challenge him. She wants that for him. He’s starting to want only her, only Ireland’s green fields and the small court she uses to run her training program.

She breaks it off with him. She isn’t hurtful about it, but she tells him that his future lies in the professional leagues and hers did not lie with him. He joins the New York Flames.

It’s Keon who tells him she’s pregnant, slipped into a casual phone call about their training. David doesn’t know what to do. He’s signed a contract and he makes good money now, but he would give it all up for her, for their child, to be a family.

He gets on a plane. He shows up at the training center. She tells him that she knows who the father is and it isn’t him. He clumsily offers to stay anyway. She gives him one last kiss and breaks his heart. He gets back on a plane.

Kayleigh brings the baby to watch his first championship game with the Flames. It’s so small, that indeterminate age between birth and speech, tucked into a fluffy hand knit hat and one of those carriers that straps to a chest.

“His name is Kevin,” she tells him, and she smiles down at the baby more tenderly than he’s seen her look at anything but an exy ball.

The baby is beautiful, all big eyes and tiny nose, taking in the action with his mouth open in wonder. He also has dark eyes, hair, and skin that he didn’t get from Kayleigh.

There aren’t a lot of Pacific Islanders in exy, though the number grows in the following years. There are only so many people who could give the boy that coloring.

David is happy for Keon. He’s only eighteen, which is awfully young to be a father, but he knows how much Keon misses his family. He’ll be a good dad. He’ll look after them both, to the extent that Kayleigh will let herself be looked after.

David plays and he plays and he plays, and exy starts to feel less like a game and more like a job. He donates most of his salary, only keeping enough to pay for the big apartment close to the court. It’s the first time in his life he’s lived alone, and he finds he doesn’t care for it. He starts jumping at sudden noises again.

Kayleigh comes back when Kevin is two. Tetsuji Moriyama is opening the exy program at Edgar Allen University, the first college exy program. Keon, despite being a little older than the traditional college student, is on the first line up. David wonders if Kayleigh will move to the States, if he can rebuild their friendship.

She brings Kevin to visit him in New York the next year. The tiny wide eyed infant has become a bundle of energy and glee, fascinated with everything around him and full of questions about all of it. Kayleigh’s eyes are indulgent as she answers them.

They play a mock exy game on the empty court after the rest of David’s team goes home for the night. He’s terrified of swinging too hard and hurting Kevin, but Kayleigh isn’t. Kevin runs up and down the court after their balls, shrieking with joy and carrying the smallest exy racquet David has ever seen.

It’s the best day David has had in a long time.

He still donates most of his salary, but he starts saving some of it. He isn’t sure what it’s for, exactly, but an idea is percolating in the back of his head.

He runs a few workshops for the local little league team. They take him on as an assistant coach, which is all the commitment he can make considering how much he travels for games. A little of that old spark of love for the game wakes up in him.

Kayleigh dies. David finds out from ESPN. A car accident, they say. Thank goodness her son wasn’t with her. Such a mystery, no one knows who his father is. Who will care for him now? Will the absent father finally reveal himself?

David waits, and waits, and waits for Keon to claim Kevin. He’s graduated, joined the Arizona pro team, but surely he’ll take Kevin. He won’t leave the boy to be an orphan. Will he?

Kevin goes to live with Tetsuji, who has been named his godfather. David supposes Kayliegh must have trusted him, to leave him with her child, but David has never liked the man. Maybe it’s just jealousy.

He skips practice and makes a weekend trip to Edgar Allen. Tetsuji meets him at the gates and doesn’t allow him any farther. Kevin is at lessons, he says. He’s bonded with Tetsuji’s own nephew, he says. Who are you to demand to see him? he says. David goes back to New York.

David plays professionally for nine more years, in New York and Illinois and finally South Carolina. This is where he meets Charles Whittier, the Dean of the nearby college, Palmetto State. They’re thinking of starting an exy program, he says. Would David like to run it?

David thinks of that day on the court with Kavin and Kayleigh, and all the years as assistant coach to various little league teams. He accepts.

Over the years he’s met a lot of exy players. He knows the sport has a tendency to draw people who need an outlet, people for whom life has not been easy. People like him, for whom a college degree was never an option. These are the people he decides to recruit for his new team. He puts everything that he has into it, long nights pouring over the blueprints for the court, longer days flying all over the country to make offers to the people he’s chosen. Most of them need at least a little convincing. When the school funding runs out, he uses his savings to make the court exactly the way he wants it. None of his kids will struggle to hide scars in the locker room like he did, that first year in Ireland.

His first line up is a disaster. They fight and they do drugs and miss practice and skip classes and they finish at the very bottom of the rankings.

His second line up is better. The captain has washed out so he replaces him with Dan Wilds, who he thinks Kayleigh would have liked. She’s brilliant, but he isn’t sure it’s enough.

He recruits the Minyards and their cousin. All three are good, all three would meet his specifications on their own, but the one he really wants is Andrew, the foster kid with a record, court mandated medication, and the best shots saved record of any goalie in collegiate exy.

He begins to wonder if he’s made a mistake.

Then Kevin comes to his hotel room after the winter banquet, sporting a broken hand and an ever more broken expression.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he rasps.

“Come in,” David tells him.

#all for the game #the foxhole court #david wymack #kevin day #kayleigh day

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highfivecalum · 5 years

Text

Here With Me {LH} 2

Previous Chapters: One

***

TWO DAYS PASSED AND Neena had barely left Michael and Amy’s house, too busy catching up on sleep and trying to figure out what the hell her next move was. She was waiting to call Ruby, to tell her she found a safe place to live, but she didn’t want to. Not yet. She didn’t want to jinx it and Neena wanted to be absolutely sure that this was the place she wanted to live, to stay, to make a new life without Ben. She knew when she found a house that she liked, that suited her, she would stay. And then she would call Ruby.

“Hey Michael?” Neena caught Michael’s attention, who was standing over the stove flipping the omelette he was making Neena and himself. “Have you talked to your parents yet about helping me find a place to live?”

“I did, actually!” Michael transferred the omelettes from the stove top to two different plates and placed Neena’s in front of her, she thanked him before squirting sriracha onto her plate and cutting a piece of her omelet off. “My mom has an opening from two to three today and she has two houses, both a few blocks away from here, that she wants to show you. They’re pretty cheap, too.”

“Would you mind coming with me? I don’t know my way around here yet.”

“Of course!” Michael smiled happily. “I would ask Amy to come, but she’s at work until later, so it’ll just be us. That okay?”

Neena nodded her head. She knew Michael wasn’t threatening, if anything, he was the nicest person she’s met and the complete opposite of threatening. Neena didn’t know him well, but she knew that he was a person she could trust, and she was sure that she would come to trust him, along with Amy.

The pair finished their omelettes and washed their dishes off before going into their separate bathrooms to shower and get themselves ready. It was mid-June, so the sun was scorching and hotter than Neena had ever experienced. She was used to living in Michigan, where it was usually in the eighties. She wasn’t used to the ninety, almost one hundred degree Florida sun.

Neena settled on a backless sundress and a pair of sandals and slung her purse over her shoulder. She met Michael at the front door and the two of them got into his car, which Neena was extremely thankful for, because she was not in the mood to walk. That got her thinking; she needed a car. Badly. But money was tight and she needed a home and a job before she could venture off into car buying. One small step at a time, Neena thought.

“This is it!” Michael parked his car behind a white BMW, which Neena guessed was his mother’s and the two of them walked up the few stairs leading to the front porch and inside of the smaller house. It was old, dusty, and a little rickety. It would definitely need some work. Too much work. “Hi, mom!” Michael gave his mother a quick hug before pulling away and pointing to Neena. “This is Neena. She’s new here.”

“Hi Neena. I’m Karen. Nice to meet you.” The two shook hands and Neena looked around. There were holes in the walls, she could hear mice running around under the wooden floorboards, and the bathroom made Neena cringe. Neena knew that if she choose this house, it would need too much work done, and she didn't have close to that kind of money. “So? What do you think?”

“We hate it.” Michael answered for Neena in an instant. “What about the other one?”

“Much nicer than this one. A little bit more money, but I think it’ll be worth it.”

The three of them drove to the next house, only five houses down from the first one, and Neena’s eyes lit up at the sight of it. It was a small white house, small but bigger than the first, and had a screened in front porch which she adored. The inside looked brand new, only a few dents here and there and little dust, but nothing too major. The bathroom was clean, the kitchen full functioning, and the bedroom thankfully bigger than the size of a walk-in closet like the last.

The house came fully furnished, which surprised Neena and surprised her even more when Karen told her that it didn’t add to the cost of the house. It would only need some minor touch ups; painting, cleaning, new doorknobs, and some new lights, but other than that, it was perfect in Neena’s eyes. It was home.

“I love it.” Neena smiled, genuinely, for the first time in weeks. “How much is it?”

Karen and Neena talked pricing while Michael turned the car on and got the air conditioning cranked up. Neena paid cash, all cash, which surprised Karen, but she wasn’t one to judge or ask questions. Money was money and that’s all Karen cared about, along with finding her new client a home she would love and make her own.

Michael drove Neena back to he and Amy’s shared house so she could get her stuff, which was only the one duffel bag she brought with her and a few blankets, pillows, sheets, and towels that Amy and Michael were nice enough to give to her. The couple didn’t know much about Neena. They knew she didn’t talk a lot, wasn’t very open about herself, and they knew something was up considering Neena moved to a town across the country, by herself, with only one duffel bag to her name, but it wasn’t their business to ask, and they knew that.

“Thanks for everything, Michael.” Neena spoke through the rolled down window and Michael waved her off like it was no big deal, but to Neena it was. “I’m serious. I owe you.”

“It’s no problem, Neena, really. Just promise me one thing?” Neena nodded. “Don’t be a stranger. Next time we go out you should come with us. And if you need anything, we only live a few blocks away, so don’t hesitate to show up, alright?”

“Got it. Thanks again. Tell Amy thank you, too.”

Neena and Michael waved to each other and Neena happily let herself into her new home. It smelled a little musty, so Neena was planning on going into town and buying a few candles and some flowers to spruce the place up, but first, she had to make a phone call.

Neena called Ruby on her pay as you go phone and waited anxiously as the phone rang. It went to voicemail and Neena figured that Ruby was at work, so she left a message. “Hi Ruby, it’s me. I’m somewhere safe. And I think I’m going to like it here. Send the money whenever you can, no rush, and call me back when you get this, okay?”

Neena gave Ruby her new address and phone number that was written on the back of the shitty phone and ended the call. Neena sat at the small dining room table, looking around at her new home. Her chin was rested on her knees that were brought up to her chest and she sighed. This was her life now and she had finally come to terms with it. She was okay with it. She just hoped she liked it.

***

A full day went by and Neena hadn’t gone outside since. She was too busy unpacking, even though she only had six shirts, six pairs of pants/shorts, a few dresses, and three pairs of shoes shoved in her duffel bag, so there wasn’t much to unpack. She cleaned up, got rid of all the dust, and opened all the windows to get some fresh air. She was beyond thankful for the working washer and dryer in the small hall closet. She washed the sheets, blankets, and towels that Amy and Michael had given her and made her bed.

Neena knew she couldn’t go another day without a shower and she needed at least some type of food to get her through her days, so she got herself dressed in a pair of shorts and a plain shirt and was on her way into town. She gave herself a pat on the back for wearing her Nike sneakers instead of the sandals she had been wearing. Neena hated the feeling of sweaty feet, but she would rather have that than a painful walk to and from the main town.

It was a long walk, but it wasn’t awful due to the wind blowing the trees and Neena’s hair around, and the smell of the ocean wafting into her nose. Neena loved the smell of the ocean and sunscreen. She had only been to the beach once in her life when she was sixteen. Her and her parents made one trip to South Carolina. Neena’s mother had fallen ill and she had never seen the beach before, and that was on her bucket list before she passed, so the three of them went to South Carolina and Neena remembers it as one of the best times of her life.

There were people out and about, children everywhere since it was their summer break, and Neena smiled fondly at all of the families. It made her miss hers, but she tried not to dwell on it, since she had been missing them for a while now. After her mother's passing, Neena and her father's relationship faltered, so for almost seven years now, she had been missing how her family used to be. Neena was just glad that other people could experience what she once, but no longer, had.

She reached the local shop that Michael and Amy told her about and walked in, happily welcoming the air conditioning that was blasting. The door was propped open, so the bell didn’t ding when she walked in. Neena grabbed a basket and slowly walked around the shop, eyeing everything and taking everything in. It took twenty minutes to walk around and find everything she needed.

When Neena was done, her basket was full with shampoo and conditioner, body wash, a few small candles, and some random snacks. She was relying on Ramen Noodles and was happy to see that they had multiple flavors, not just beef and chicken.

“Hi!” A small girl popped her head up and climbed onto the stool that was in front of the register.

Neena’s eyes widened at the girl, but she smiled widely at her. She was adorable; tanned skin with freckles on her nose and shoulders, unruly blonde curls, and the brightest blue eyes Neena had ever seen. She couldn’t have been older than six. “Hi there.” Neena placed her basket on the counter, careful not to block the little girls view.

“Did you find everything okay?”

“I did. Thank you.” Neena smiled. “Aren’t you a little bit small to be running a store?”

The little girl giggle and Neena couldn’t help but giggle along, the sound was infectious and Neena missed being that small. “I don’t run it! My daddy does. He’s somewhere.” The little girl pressed a few buttons on the cash register and the drawer popped open. “I’m Keely. What’s your name?”

“I’m Neena,” Neena shook Keely’s small hand and Keely stared at her. “What?” Neena laughed. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” Keely shook her head, her curls bouncing around in the process. “You’re just pretty.”

“Thank you,” Neena laughed. “So are you.”

“Keely,” A male voice sounded. “Where’s your brother?” The man looked up from the clipboard in his hands and raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t aware there was a customer. A customer that he had never seen before. “Oh, hi. I’m sorry. Can I help you?”

“I already did it, daddy.” Keely rolled her eyes at her father, whose name Neena did not know and wasn’t planning on staying long enough to learn, and she stifled a laugh. “Your total is twenty-five dollars.”

Neena handed her two twenties and Keely expertly put it in the cash drawer and gave Neena her change. Neena thanked the young girl and put her change in her wallet. “Do you need help getting those to your car?” The man pointed to the two bags that Neena had yet to pick up.

Neena shook her head, barely even glancing at the man in front of her. “I don’t have a car. Thanks though.” Neena turned to Keely with a smile. “It was nice to meet you, Keely.”

Neena looked up to offer the man a small smile, but he was turned around now, so she smiled once more at Keely before exiting the shop and making the trek back to her house. It was a struggle to carry the two heavy bags back for twenty minutes and Neena wished she had a car, or a bike or something, but she would have to get used to walking in the meantime.

Neena took a much needed shower and cooked herself a packet of Ramen Noodles. She sipped the cheap five dollar wine from the store and stared out the window. She was bored already. She had been in Bayside for a total of four days and she hadn’t done anything remotely fun, too busy focused on getting herself settled.

Neena let out a huff and thought to herself, I need a fucking job. That was her next mission.

***

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#5sos #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer imagine #calum hood #luke hemmings #michael clifford #ashton irwin #luke imagine #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings imagines #luke blurbs #luke hemmings blurbs #luke fanficition #luke fanfic #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings fanfiction #here with me

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otheroutlandertales · 6 years

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Anonymous said: Hi, this is a prompt for Abby. Abby would you write a missing scene of Fergus reuniting with Bree after she comes through the stones in DOA? Thanks!

Starlight, Starbright

by @abbydebeaupreposts

He knew they would be there, had no doubts whatsoever that milord would come for him and that Marsali would be right by his side. Still, it was a relief to catch sight of her blonde tresses and milord’s ruddy curls pressed together sharing a conspiratorial whisper as they waited for his case to be called. The room was packed tight, he was definitely today’s main attraction-- or, rather, the crowd had come to see what Jamie Fraser had to say, how he might react.

Milord’s story-- pardoned Jacobite prisoner and claimholder of thousands of prime North Carolina acreage was well known in these parts. As was the tacit understanding that Deputy Berowne was in cahoots with Sergeant Murchison, an old foe of Jamie’s from Ardsmuir. Together, the two officials of the crown conspired to drum up false charges of assault and tax evasion against him hoping to cause trouble for Jamie during the busy harvest season. But he trusted milord to handle it and seeing the knowing gleam when their eyes met, he relaxed and prepared to enjoy the spectacle like everyone else.

Glancing towards Marsali at milord’s side, he saw she was giving him one of her melty, doe-eyed looks. He cleared his throat at the yearning he read in her expression. Her heart-shaped face, so dear to him that when she smiled, he couldn’t help returning it. It was hot in the stuffy room. He looked at the window longingly, maybe they would open it soon? Just then his attention was diverted by someone reaching around Marsali to touch Jamie’s arm.

Fergus watched milord’s face as he leaned over to speak to her. There was an unutterable tenderness around his eyes, something of wonder in his features that surprised him. He followed the line of that arm, across his wife’s middle-- his eyes narrowing at the imperceptible thickness he thought he detected there-- and he looked up… and up… and up until he saw her. The woman’s hair was bound in a tight chignon but the color of it was unmistakable, as were those sharp cheekbones and slanted, piercing blue eyes. Mon Dieu! It was milord’s petite étoile -- his little star-- it had to be!

Fergus’s gaze shot back to Jamie just as the realization dawned and a silent question and answer volleyed between them. Jamie’s look of pride and the small private smile of confirmation was enough. Fergus’ face flushed pink with pleasure. A puff of amused breath came from Marsali whose cocked, raised brow and small flick of her eyes left and right made him chuckle, too. His wife’s sense of humor was still intact and she was quite right--- bookended between those red-headed giants, she looked more like a small child.

From that point until he emerged from Jocasta’s bathing chamber, freshly washed and in clean clothes at last, the afternoon had been a blur. They’d had all charges dismissed, of course. Fergus hadn’t doubted Jamie’s abilities on this front and he’d thanked Ian for his fast riding to get an official copy of the grant of lands from the governor in time. He’d snuggled up with Germain as Marsali was putting him down for a nap and had time to reassure his wife in private. They’d exchanged a little gossip about the girl, Brianna, who had turned up so unexpectedly yesterday afternoon. Now, finally, he came face to face with Jamie’s daughter.

“Mademoiselle,” he bowed low. Up close, he saw her eyes really were the exact replica of her father’s. Fergus offered her his arm and then walked with her down to the riverbank. “Your mother must be so happy that her letter reached you in time.” He felt her startle at his words.

“Her letter?” Her brows rose up in puzzlement.

“Oui, when we realized the Artemis had landed in the Colonies, well, you can just imagine how excited we all were that providence had flung us upon the very shores where she had raised milord’s long lost daughter.” Fergus looked sideways at her.

“Oh. Well yes, I was raised in Boston, but when she decided to go… back to find Jamie, I wasn’t able… that is w-we decided that it would be too difficult a trip for me to make with her not knowing exactly what she would find, if it was even him… A. Malcolm. So I stayed… behind.” Brianna told him. “I, uhm, actually was in Scotland when I found out my father was stateside… er in the colonies. Aunt Jenny told me where to find him and I came as soon as I could. My mother doesn’t even know I’m here yet.” She told him, looking away under the scrutiny of Fergus’ soft brown eyes.

Her hair, he couldn’t help but notice, had been restyled in a looser, less formal way and he could see every shade of red, glinting in the sun.

“When Marsali asked when we could expect your arrival, Claire became upset and so we-- Ian and I, you have met him? Milord’s nephew?” Brianna nodded toward the long whipcord thin teen sitting on the veranda. “Ah, well, we thought maybe there was something -- some kind of ailment that you were suffering from? But I can see for myself you are hale and whole. Then milord explained that milady was upset because you were bound for France and they thought perhaps you had left already and she wouldn’t be able to send for you in time. Such a sad turn of events. And now, here you are, la petite étoile!”

“The little star?” Brianna’s high school French was good enough for simple translations.

“Oui.” Fergus gave her a genuine grin of warmth and love. “Do you know much about his life after Culloden?” Bree shook her head. “That is just as well for it was not much of a life. He was ill for months after and then lived in a cave for many years.”

“I have seen the cave.” Brianna blurted out. “When my mother left, we arranged for me to live with friends for a few months and then go to… France.” She said hesitantly, feeling her way through her story. Fergus waited patiently, observing that she did not share her mother’s glass face for he was uncertain how much of the tale was true and how much she was making up on the fly. “But it felt so wrong, her being back with Jam— Da, I mean, and me so far away that I — I set sail after she left, hoping to find her. I was too late to catch you in Edinburgh, but I made it to Lallybroch and met everyone there. They told me a bit about him… Da.” She spoke, shly, in that strange accent of hers and he could tell she wasn’t practiced at calling Jamie “Da” for the word sounded new on the tongue.

“Then you know a little of what it was like for him. The confinement and isolation?” Fergus asked and when Brianna nodded again, continued. “I was the link between him and Lallybroch, transporting game he caught to them and books and fresh greens to him. You know, the only time I heard Jamie speak your mother’s name after Culloden was when I would bring him a basket from Mistress Murray’s garden?” Brianna shook her head, suddenly the Dunbonnet wasn’t a story in a book. “Claire told him he would keep his teeth in his head so long as he scrubbed them everyday and ate his greens. I would make the trip at dusk so the redcoats wouldn’t find the path and follow me. Sometimes we would sit on top of that mountain just outside the cave after it was dark and look up at the sky. Milord would find the brightest star and pray for you and your mother. Many, many times I would overhear him talking to the two of you. He called you his wee bairn in fever dreams when he didn’t know I was with him. But other times, when we sat together at night, he always called you his petite étoile as he looked for you to appear in the evening sky,” he told her. “We thought you were both dead.” He added softly, “And there were times I truly thought the pain of it would kill him.”

Brianna looked stricken, a shudder of recognition went through her. His brows rose up inviting her to answer his unspoken question. She smiled a little. “I thought Daddy-- uhm, the man who raised me?-- was my father. I didn’t know she’d been married before but sometimes when we went camp-- uhm-- travelling... my mother would stargaze and she would get this peaceful look on her face. I don’t think she ever forgot him, Da, I mean.” Brianna’s face was flushed a little. Ah, more like her mother than he thought, or maybe she had yet to learn how to wear her mask as well as milord.

“Well, no, how could she have? For that matter how could he have forgotten her? And now that they are together once again, the two of them are like newlyweds-- for all that they just celebrated their twenty-fourth wedding anniversary! Theirs is a rare kind of love, so wonderful to see them back together after all these years!” Brianna’s confused expression finally registered.

Fergus could’ve kicked himself, how would she know what her mother was like with milord? He realized to his surprise just how few people there were that had known what they’d been like in the time before… before Culloden. Then, again she’d been spared the sight of them in the depths of despair when they both thought all was lost between them.

Fergus’ memories of Paris came fully to his mind. How lost milady was after Faith, how desperate and raw milord seemed upon his arrival at Fontainbleau. Brianna didn’t know Jamie well enough to understand the depth of his feelings for his family… for the child he just met or for Claire. On top of that, he’d unwittingly insulted the marriage between Claire and her second husband, a man whom Brianna had clearly loved very much.

“Oh, pardonne-moi, I am usually not so gauche.” But she smiled at him, he was relieved to see.

“It’s okay,” she said, using an expression Fergus had never heard. Ohkay - he committed it to memory. “So you come from Paris?”

“Oui.”

“How did you meet my father?” she asked.

“Ah, at the brothel, when I was picking milord’s pocket.” Fergus laughed and noticed Brianna smiling awkwardly. Milady was so worldly, Fergus hadn’t been mindful of the fact that she would have raised Jamie’s child to be modest, a lady. “Not that milord was there for that!” He rushed to reassure her. Thank God, Brianna hadn’t found them in Edinburgh, what would she have said upon finding Jamie had moved her mother into his apartment at Madam Jeanne’s? “His job took him there in the company of Tearlach, whose tastes were rather more… base.” Fergus added.

“Can you tell me about my mother and Da, what were they like, then?” Her eyes were alight with interest.

“Oui! Your mother was the most unusual lady in Paris! She was a rare healer-- feared and loved in equal measure. They called her La Dame Blanche and your father knew everyone who was anyone in the city. He was welcome at Versailles. Imagine it if you will-- he was on intimate terms with the pretender to the Scottish throne and King Louis! He had a camel, in his gardens, did you know?” Fergus was off and running and he knew he sounded exactly like the little orphan Jamie had rescued from the streets in Paris, but he didn’t care.

Gone was his customary air of sophistication and calm, warming to his subject. He was hoping maybe he could smooth the way between Jamie and his daughter as a small measure of repayment for the life he had been given. So he told her, not caring whether he sounded like a babbling fool, not worrying whether she could see through his soul to the lost, scared child he had been.

They were his parents, in a way, too and he wanted her to understand a little of their hearts, a bit about the Frasers of Paris and Lallybroch and he didn’t think there was anyone else who would tell her these things, who could tell her these things.

How her father looked in a puce velvet suit with a sword and dirk tucked into his belt walking around the streets of the city like he owned them; or milady in the most shocking red silk dress Paris had ever seen, wandering the shops looking for rare curatives, speaking like a native born. He was the only one left who had see milady’s strong, capable hands ruling the infirmary after a fight, or milord side by side on the battlefield with Murtagh. No one else had walked in the dark and light with them as he had.

He’d been the one who had tried to care for milady when her heart and child had been ripped from her body. It was he who changed milord’s bandages and begged him to live one more day, just one more, after all had been lost. So he told her, everything he could think of in that one short afternoon as they walked along the river. He held her as she cried for her sister, Faith, and for the time they had all lost.

When she was done, Fergus stroked the hair back from her face and smiled at her, for he was also the only one who had loved them unconditionally in the time before and the present time, who watched every moment of shattering heartbreak reversed in a second upon miladys arrival at the printshop mere months before.

“Your parents, Brianna, they are the best people I have ever known. Both have the gift of treating people with kindness and dignity--- be they beggar or royalty--- it makes no difference to them, and yet they are fiercely protective of those they love. To them, words like honor and duty, loyalty and family have true meaning. Your father would sacrifice everything again to know you were safe and loved and happy. Now that you are here, you will come to know him, as he knows you.”

“How can he know me?” Brianna asked.

“Because he was with you every single night of your life, Brianna. He looked to the heavens waiting until he saw his petite étoile. You have always been his guiding light.”

#outlander fanfiction #otheroutlandertales #mod abby #ch: fergus #ch: marsali #ch: jamie #ch: bree #canon compliant #book: DOA #missing moment #oot #*

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pjbehindthesun · 5 years

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Character Profile: Cora

Hey hi hello. When I asked you how you wanted to celebrate the latest reader milestone, you voted to see Cora's character profile in full. Here it is! Or, here it is, current as of chapter 23 (I had to take some stuff out, you know how it is). So if you're not through chapter 23 yet, there may be some undesired spoilers. And if you’re current up through chapter 23, then maybe some mild desired spoilers, who knows. Enjoy!

Name: Cora Lane Shaw

Age: 22 when the story starts. She’ll be 40 when it ends. (I told you guys, we got a whiiiiile yet to go…)

Nationality: American, with mostly Scottish and Irish ancestry.

Socioeconomic level as a child: Very poor early on, but became more solidly middle class once her mother remarried.

Socioeconomic level as an adult: At the start of the story, she’s able to make ends meet, but she’s pretty much living paycheck to paycheck and sharing living expenses with Alex.

Hometown: The general Asheville, NC area is all she’s ever told anyone. She has not told anyone the actual name of her hometown yet. She’s kind of embarrassed by it.

Current residence: At the beginning of the fic, she lives in Seattle WA.

Occupation: PhD student at UW College of Forest Resources, also a part-time waitress at Cyclops cafe. Her career will obviously change over the course of the fic.

Income: She gets a small stipend from working as a teaching assistant in her department, and picks up a little extra money waitressing.

Talents/Skills: Her biggest skill is being extremely book smart. She has decent wilderness skills. She had to learn some basic thriftiness skills like knitting and sewing, although she hates all that stuff. She does like to cook and bake but only because it appeals to her inner scientist. She also plays guitar (badly) and mandolin (worse).

Birth order: Oldest of two.

Siblings (describe relationship): She has one younger brother, Patrick, who she calls Patch and who is four years younger than her. Patch is 18 at the start of the fic. The two are extremely close, although nothing alike, and Cora is very protective of him. But she also relies heavily on his opinion.

Parents (describe relationship): Her biological parents are Shirley and Paul. Paul left when Cora was 8 years old and she has not seen or heard from him since. She has fond (albeit childlike) memories of him, but of course, his departure had a deep impact on her ability to trust people and her view of what commitment means. She has a terrible relationship with her mother, which has more to do with John, the man her mother remarried, than anything else. Whenever she has to go back to North Carolina, she stays with her childhood best friend's parents instead of her own.

Grandparents (describe relationship): She doesn't know her dad's parents or anything about them. Her mom's father died when her mom was very young, and her maternal grandmother is in a nursing home with dementia after having suffered a stroke a few years ago.

Significant others (describe relationship): At the beginning of the fic, she is dating Alex Henderson. Alex is a year older than her but they were the same year in college and met during the first month of freshman year. They used to have a very relaxed, fun-loving, easy relationship in which neither of them expected much from the other. But moving across the country together has exposed some of the fault lines that they hadn't noticed before. They do not share many worldviews or hobbies, and they never developed good communication skills as a couple. Their sex life used to be great but has dwindled to essentially nothing at all. They don't really fight, they just fall into cycles of ignoring/dismissing one another until one of them feels compelled to put more effort into the relationship to keep it going. Alex is the first boyfriend she’s ever had. She will have other relationships as the story progresses.

In a relationship: She throws herself entirely into everything she does, relationships included. Recently, things with Alex have gotten more distant and complicated, but generally, her relationship style is to be very loving and loyal and committed. She tends to develop huge blind spots, and she has terrible communication skills, preferring to hide from uncomfortable truths and lashing out when she’s called on it. But she’s good at using her sense of humor to diffuse bad situations and get things back to normal. Despite a heavy-handed religious upbringing, she enjoys sex and is... not particularly repressed about it.

Height: 5’3 if she stands up straight

Weight: 125 lbs

Race: Caucasian

Eye color: Very dark brown

Hair color: Bright red

Glasses or contact lenses? She wears glasses when she reads sometimes but not routinely.

Skin color: Very pale, very freckled.

Shape of face: Oval

How does she dress? She’s definitely a tomboy. She wears a lot of jeans and grandpa sweaters. (One pair of jeans in particular has a bunch of raggedy holes from a literal acid wash thanks to a lab accident.) She owns three skirts and zero dresses (with the exception of the Day-Glo orange bridesmaid’s dress). Footwear of choice is either Converse or Doc Martens.

Habits: (smoking, drinking etc.) She will smoke occasionally but only socially, not as a habit. She does drink a lot of bourbon, like, way too much bourbon. Can be a bit of a pothead, although not as much in grad school.

Health: She’s pretty healthy, but it’s almost by accident. She’s a vegetarian, and she likes to ride her bike more than drive (or she did, before she gave away her bike...), but those habits have to do with her environmental convictions, not being a fitness nut. She does not generally sleep well or take great care of herself outside of those activities, although she does periodically go for a run to clear her head.

Hobbies: Reading, running/biking/hiking/anything that gets her outside, cooking and baking. And sometimes playing guitar. Again, badly.

Speech patterns: She speaks very quickly and moves her hands a lot when she talks. She has a faint NC accent despite having tried hard to shed it. Her favorite swears are religious, like “sweet merciful zombie Jesus.”

Greatest flaw: Perfectionism in the unhealthiest way. This applies to her standards for herself (personally and professionally) as well as a rigidity in how she navigates her life. She also has a short temper.

Best quality: Her idealism drives her to make the world better. Not just in her planned career, but in how she deals with other people as well. She’s not an optimist but she wants to make a difference.

Short-term goals in life: On the immediate horizon, pass her prelim exams, get a fellowship, and publish her first paper from her research. In the initial months of the fic, her other primary short-term goal was to keep her relationship with Alex thriving, although she has become less committed to that idea recently.

Long-term goals in life: Finish her PhD, get a tenure-track job at a research university, and use evidence to impact people's decisions for the greater good. She’s always seen that happening through a career in scientific research. She doesn’t have distinct personal goals like “get married, have kids,” because she prizes her independence and has misgivings about some of those life choices, at least as she understands them right now.

How does she see herself? She second-guesses herself constantly, both personally and professionally. She doesn’t have a very high opinion of her looks, but she doesn’t get bent out of shape about it either. She finds other things to have low self-esteem about, like her foot-in-mouth tendencies or her perfectionism in school or her worry of hurting other people.

What would most embarrass her? She hates it when she puts her foot in her mouth and says something rude to a person she really cares about. She would also be very embarrassed to be seen as vulnerable in any way.

Strengths and weaknesses: Strengths are intelligence, altruism, humor, stubbornness, and generosity. Weaknesses are emotional fragility, stubbornness, short temper, inflexibility, anxiety.

Introvert or Extrovert? Introvert

How does she deal with anger? Her temper flares. She's not good with it at all.

With loss? Not well. She internalizes it and it sometimes causes her to hold on to people she probably shouldn't.

What makes her happy? Being in nature, being with her (very few) loved ones, and scientific discovery.

Rude or polite? Rude for sure.

What motivates her? Fear of failure and loss. Altruism and ideals.

Is she ruled by emotion or logic or some combination thereof? Almost always logic, although there are certain circumstances where she can be swept up in a moment.

Does she believe in God? Absolutely not. She was raised Catholic and still carries a lot of Catholic guilt around in her personality, but she’s pretty dismissive of spirituality in general.

Relationships with others:

1. Alex: They start out dating. They met when she was still a very naive 17 year old, and he’s been her whole world ever since. She’s starting to lose patience with him and doubt how truthful he’s being. And of course, she’s keeping a secret from him too.

2. Lucy: Best friend. Lives downstairs. You haven’t heard how they met yet but it’s a good story and you’ll hear it eventually from one of them. Suffice it to say they hit it off immediately.

3. Chris: Chris is the first member of the “Seattle scene” she met, out on their hike in an undisclosed location in the Northern Cascades. They have a deep friendship but they don’t see each other very often due to their respective schedules.

4. Jeff: Neighbors. They formally meet for the first time at the Off Ramp and don't really hit it off right away. He is annoyed by her sense of humor. Gradually he warms up to her as he understands her relationship with Lucy better. But they are always a little at odds.

4. Stone: She meets Stone at the Off Ramp at the same time as Jeff. They form a friendship very quickly, although Stone has feelings for her from the very start. She realizes slowly that she has feelings for him as well. Then... some things happen. It gets complicated, and not complicated.

4. Eddie: It takes a while for Eddie to stop being “that new guy” to anyone, including Cora. But she initially strikes up a conversation with him because she feels bad for how lonely he looks, and they hit it off well. They have a habit of oversharing with one another.

5. Patch: Little brother. Adores him, thinks the world of him, needs his validation for everything she does, is extremely protective of him.

How she is different at the end of the novel from when the novel began: Obviously much older, and much more flexible in her ideas.

#holy shit that is a lot of information #good on you if you actually care enough to read all that wow #character profile #cora

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callmetippytumbles · 6 years

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Home, A TRR Fanfic Series, Part 5 [2/2] (Liam)

Tippy’s note: This is the part that everyone has been waiting for, and I have been most excited to share. Basically, the moment where Liam and Harrold meet for the first time is the genesis of this whole series. Harrold has a lot of anger towards Liam for what happened in Cordonia, namely the scandal, as well as what Liam is asking Halle to take on. Harrold does use racialized language to mirror the language that he reads when he reads about his daughter as well as to make Liam feel uncomfortable.

Disclaimer: Choices owns this and I do not.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5(1)

Words Counted: 3,069 Rating: M, Mature Language Pairing: Liam x MC (Halle), endgame Trigger Warning: Racial Slurs

Tags: @youwontlikewherewewillgo @sleeplessescapades @jasoncrouse @lizzybeth1986 @hopefulmoonobject @ayo-minty-jess @flyawayblue56 @drakewalkerwhipped @drakelover78 @umccall71 @writtenbycandy @mfackenthal

Summary: Liam lands in North Carolina expecting to find Halle but instead meets Harrold.

Hours earlier...

It was a humid day in North Carolina. Liam was thankful he didn’t go with his usual casual outfit. His cashmere sweater and button down would have been soaked with sweat by the time he got from the car to the porch. Not all of the sweat would have been from the oppressive heat.

He was at Halle’s family home, about to knock on the door to see if she would come home with him. Bastien and Mara were standing behind him. Olivia was confident that Halle was still in love with him, but right now he wasn’t sure. The only way he would know for sure was behind that door.

He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

A stern, gruff voice called out, “Just a minute. You better not be Jehovah, this is a Baptist household!”

A puzzled look washed over Liam’s face. He quickly regained his composure as the man opened the door. He was tall with a muscular, commanding frame for a man of his age.

“Yes. Hello, are you Harrold Berry?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Right. I should introduce myself. I am Liam—”

“Oh, right,” Harrold interjected.

Liam could hear the sound of recognition in his tone. He offered a small smile.

“You are the man who didn’t think to ask me for permission to marry my daughter.”

Liam’s head reflexively jerked back. Harrold’s bluntness took him by surprise.

“Well, don’t just stand there. C’mon in.” He peered behind Liam and then added, “Your lil’ friends can come too,” gesturing to Bastien and Mara.

Inside, Liam stood in the Berry’s living room. Pictures of the family were everywhere. They were on shelves in the TV stand, on top of the fireplace, on the side table. Even along some of the walls. The house was covered in memories of the family. Liam’s eyes were drawn to all of the pictures, especially those of Halle. The photos were so different than all of the ones at the palace. In his home, there are portraits, mostly oil paintings of past kings and rulers. The few actual photos that were hung were not private candids taken by Constantine, Regina, or even his mother. They were taken by the press or by the Crown’s official photographer, Mario Di Bacco.

Seeing the photos of the Berry Family, by them told their family history in a way that the ones at the palace didn’t. When he looked at his family photos, he doesn’t get a warm feeling. Compared to Halle’s family, the Royal family looked sterile and cold. He didn’t even know the context for any of these moments, but he already feels the warmth and intimacy of them. He thought about some of the photos taken by Maxwell and the one he and Halle took on the top of the Eiffel Tower. He remembered that night whenever he looks at it.

Liam paced around the living room absorbing all of the memories. He picked up a small frame on the TV stand that had a picture of Halle when she was young. She was holding a doll made of yarn and cradling it like a baby. Another photo had Halle on the back of a boy, older, looks like Harrold. Liam assumed that the young boy had to be Halle’s brother.

He didn’t know that she had a brother. Up until 20 hours ago, he assumed Halle was born in New York.

The frame next to that had two pictures, hinged together like a book. The first was a picture of the boy that had Halle on his back, but he is at least ten years older. He was much taller and wearing a crown and posed hugging a woman in front of him. She was wearing a crown too. Both had sashes. He could only read hers. Howard Homecoming Queen. On the other side of the hinged frame, a younger Halle and a young man were in a similar pose. No crowns. The young man had deep umber skin and short hair. They were both smiling. Unlike the other photo, the young man in Halle’s picture held her closer. Liam felt a small ripple of jealousy course through his body.

This was more than a decade ago, calm down, he told himself.

Liam kept looking at photos of the Berrys’ lives. He saw Harrold’s wedding photos to Halle’s mother. Harrold in the ocean holding a young Halle in the water. In another frame was a set of pictures of Halle in a white gown and long straight hair. She was on the arm of another man, with much lighter skin and almost bald. The next picture had Halle and the young man in the center of a few other couples. A third showed Halle and the young man in a ballroom pose.

Looking at the photos stirred a myriad of emotions for Liam. On the one hand, he was fascinated. During the social season, when he would lie in his bed at night, thinking about Halle, he would wonder what she was like as a child. Was she as mischievous and lively as the woman she became? Was she a happy child? He is actually getting answers to that.

On the other hand, the photos only highlighted how little of Halle he knew. Liam knew her personality and temperament. The basics. She never talked about her childhood in depth. He didn’t even know she was born in North Carolina. Seeing these moments of her life, sparked a sense of sadness in Liam. Halle had a whole life before him that he didn’t know or could begin to comprehend.

As Liam was looking at the pictures, Harrold returned to the living room with sweet tea. While the gesture was hospitable, Harrold’s attitude was far from it.

“I suppose you and your friends are not used to the heat of the American South,” Harrold explained as he handed glassed to Liam, Bastien, and Mara.

Bastien and Mara took a sip and puckered their faces at the intense sweetness. Liam sipped and had a less dramatic reaction. He thanked Harrold for the drink.

“I figured you shouldn’t die of thirst while you explain your business here.”

“Thank you for being so generous to speak with me and welcoming me into your home, Mr. Berry.”

Harrold turned away, settling in his Lazyboy. Liam sat opposite him on the sofa. Still holding one of the pictures of Halle in his hands. Bastien and Mara remained standing behind him.

“Seeing that you and my daughter are betrothed, I guess you should call me Harrold.”

Liam nodded. He was still looking at the picture he held in his hands. His knowledge of American traditions and culture was limited at best. He knew some things, but anything region-specific was outside his depth. His brow furrowed as he tried to understand what he was looking at.

“Harrold, I thought America didn’t have titles?” Liam asked gesturing to the picture.

Harrold looked confused for a moment. Liam turned the picture towards the older man. He looked at the picture Liam was holding and laughed.

“America doesn’t,” Harrold confirmed. “You are looking at pictures from Halle’s cotillion.”

Confusion remained on the younger man’s face.

“Cotillions are balls, mostly in the south. Initially, they were events for the wealthy, usually white, to introduce their daughters to eligible wealthy men that they could marry.”

Liam looked at Harrold while he continued explaining.

“After slavery was abolished in the US, and the Civil War ended, a few black families managed to acquire some money and status. Naturally those families wanted to do the same, but of course, were not allowed.”

Harrold swallowed some of the saliva that was collecting in his mouth.

“Wealthy and not even middle-class whites did not want to mix with any kind of black, regardless. Like we always do, because we are usually forced to, instead of complaining, we made our own.”

“Wealthy black people came together and started their own cotillions. They expanded it to allow for anyone regardless of class to participate, as in you didn’t have to come from a prestigious or wealthy family. At some point, the cotillion became closely linked with fraternities and sororities.”

Harrold pointed to Halle’s portrait.

“Halle’s cotillion was organized by Delta Sigma Theta.”

Liam was not entirely familiar with what a fraternity or a sorority was. He tried to remember that to Google on his own time later. Google was going to be a handy resource while with Halle’s family as it has been with Halle.

“Black cotillions are not just about introducing young eligible women to get married. They are about scholarship and community service. Sure Halle in that picture is in a beautiful gown and has a fresh press.”

Liam raised an eyebrow at “fresh-press.”

“What you don’t see is the 50 hours of community service Halle had to complete, plus countless trips with the Deltas learning things like etiquette and dancing but also how to negotiate salary with a prospective employer.”

Liam listened to Harrold realizing that Halle’s adaptability during the social season was a lot less happenstance than he thought if she went through all of this just to participate in a ball. He had to wonder why he felt it was happenstance at all. Was it because he met her as a waitress?

He placed the picture on the coffee table between them, returning his attention to Harrold.

“I didn’t know about any of that. Do all Black Americans do cotillions?”

Harrold shook his head. “No. Halle wouldn’t have if Joanne didn’t insist.” A small frown formed on his face.

“I think it was because Joanne didn’t get to when she was Halle’s age, and she didn’t want Halle to not have that experience.”

“I see.”

The two remained seated, letting the silence settle between them. The silence was cut by the sound of Harrold sucking his teeth. He finished the rest of his sweet tea and put the glass on the table with an audible thud.

Harrold looked at the young man before him. He knew that he should welcome this man because his daughter loved him. Harrold swore that he would never be that father with a shotgun on his porch. It wasn’t until today that he understood them.

Harrold cleared his throat. “I know you didn’t come here just to learn about cotillions.”

“I didn’t,” he admitted. “I came to talk to Halle. Do you know where she is?”

“Halle went shopping with her mother and should be back shortly. You didn’t come here just to talk.” Harrold eyed Bastien and Mara suspiciously.

“You wouldn’t need muscle to talk,” Harrold said gesturing to Bastien and Mara. “You came to make her come back.”

“I would never force Halle to come back, but I am a king. I need to have security with me. Mara is actually Halle’s detail.”

Mara weakly waved behind Liam, quickly returning her hand to the side.

“If—”

“And that is if—”

Liam’s jaw stiffened, and he continued, “If Halle decides that she wants to come back, she will need to have security with her.”

Harrold leaned forward in his seat. “Did Halle have security when that man showed up in her room?”

Liam’s eyes widened as he pressed his back into the sofa. Bastien stood a little straighter, and he held his hands behind his back tighter.

Harrold's eyes narrowed as he continued, “What about when someone took photos of my daughter half-naked? Or how ‘bout when she was shot at was there security then?”

Liam remained silent. His mouth became a small line. What response could he possibly offer Harrold to assuage the ways that he failed his daughter?

“I am sure you are a decent man, at least to Halle, but you can see my reservations with you marrying my child.”

“Harrold, I cannot possibly begin to imagine how you must feel. I know that Halle’s time with me has not been the easiest, to say the least. I can offer 1,000 apologies, and it would not begin to scratch the surface. What happened to Halle, that it happened under my watch. Not being able to prevent it is my greatest regret.”

“So you plan to make up for it by making my daughter into some kind of trophy? A possession for you to dress up and parade on your arm? Your negress trinket?”

Liam flinched when he heard that word. He was prepared to have Halle’s father, not like him, there may be convincing, he wasn’t ready for this. Even so, he knew that Harrold’s anger was reasonable. Liam has been in meetings and negotiations that were far tenser than this, but this was the most uncomfortable he has ever felt. Knowing that he had to press on. The stakes were too high. Everything had to go on the table. He gulped.

“No, sir. I love Halle. I have been in love with her since the night I met her in New York. I never expected to see her again after that night.”

The older man, let Liam continue. Listening intently.

“The night she set foot in Cordonia was the greatest surprise of my life. I was impressed with how seamlessly Halle fit in Cordonia. The more time I spent with her, the deeper in love I fell. The moments we had together were never enough. I have heard about how wonderful and beautiful love is, but I never truly comprehended how powerful or transformative love can be until I met your daughter.

“All of this to say that I do not want to possess Halle like a doll. I want Halle to be my wife and to stand by my side as queen. I want to give her the world.”

Harrold’s gaze never left Liam. The intensity never wavered or softened. Liam felt the full weight of his scrutiny, and he knew it. He took a deep breath and spoke.

“I know that you think you know Halle. What her life was like before you. What you assume Halle’s life would be like once you marry, have children. Live your ‘happily ever after.’”

Now it was Liam’s turn to lean into Harrold. Returning his gaze.

“I look at you, and I worry. I am fearful for my child. Liam, you say you want to give Halle the world, but I don’t think you know or understand what the world has given Halle.”

The younger man’s jaw tightened, he balled his hand into a tight fist.

“You want to take my child and make her a target. The fact that you are so willing to thrust her out there tells me that you don’t know her.”

“What don’t you think I know, Harrold?” Liam challenged. “There is something you want to say about me, and you should just say it.”

“Want me to say it? Spell it out for you, Your Highness?” Harrold asked as he stood.

Liam gave a curt nod, rising to stand with him.

“Fine. You don’t know anything about being with a Black Woman!”

Liam’s eyes widened. He couldn’t ball his fist any tighter.

Harrold bellowed, “You are just not prepared for the scrutiny and malignment that you are asking Halle to subject herself to, to be by your side. You will have Black children that you will have to raise.

Sure you are a King, you can give them the best education money can buy, no material possession is out of their reach. As soon as your children, my grandchildren,” Harrold said pointing to his chest. “Leave your golden palace, they would not be seen as a prince or a princess they would be seen as a threat. The world will have judged them before they have even said ‘hello.’ I have watched it happen to my son and daughter. You are not prepared for that!”

Liam shouted,“Cordonia is not America!”

Harrold stood back and gave a small smile as if he appreciated Liam’s loss of control. He shook his head and laughed to himself.

“Are you sure about that?”

Liam looked at Halle’s father, his eyes wild with anger.

“Have you read what some of your news outlets have said about Halle? What about the comments on those posts calling her every racial slur imaginable? Those are not all Americans. Most people from the US probably do not know that your country exists, let alone find it on a map.

Those comments, the niggers, the blackies, those are from your own people Liam. Halle being American is not the only problem they have with her. You should know that better than anyone or have you not looked at yourself in the mirror?”

Liam furrowed his brow and sat down. He hasn’t thought about looking or being different for a long time. Being born second in line to the throne may protect from some of the apparent prejudice. It doesn’t protect you from all of it. His mind flashed back to Leo telling people Liam was adopted and not his brother when he was younger, or some of the Greek think pieces on how different Cordonia would be under his rule just because he didn’t look like any of the previous rulers.

The sooner you can stop being in denial about that the better it will be for you and her.”

Harrold’s words hung heavy in the air as he returned to his seat. No one spoke. Everything was tense. Both men waiting for the breathing as well as their heart rate to return to normal.

The sound of rapid footsteps could be heard on the wooden porch before the door flew open.

Halle ran in, turned towards the living room and stopped. She quickly noticed Bastien and Mara standing in her living room.

“Liam?”

He turned towards Halle. The both of them stared, caught in the pull of the other’s gaze. Several footsteps could be heard entering behind her.

“Halle why did you leave the—” Joanne said.

“Is everything—,” Rhon started.

Joanne and Rhon stopped when they noticed the extra guests. The bags of groceries they carried dropped to the floor as they watched Halle and Liam.

“Halle, are you just going to stand there with your mouth open like the jaw of the singing bass?” Joanne said breaking the silence. “That man traveled a long way to see you. The least you can do is say ‘hello.’”

Part 6

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