#halo makes me lose my mind still all these years later. GOD. SO FUCKING GOOD
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Violator really is that good. I listened to it for the first time in a while last week and it was like, banger after banger after banger. Absolutely no skips on that album, 10/10, I'm gonna eat a physical copy of it a la Ralph Fiennes in Red Dragon
#personal#depeche mode#remember when i listened to it every day for months straight?? sometimes multiple times a day???#halo makes me lose my mind still all these years later. GOD. SO FUCKING GOOD
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First off, I LOVE you to bits. Second, I LOVE being in the Dave York pit with you guys. Thirdly, a random Dave request if possible. Dave is finishing a job and ends up saving a young woman who was in the process of being attacked by a mugger. He escorts her home and mayyyyybe she shows him some appreciation for saving her life 😍
I LOVE THAT YOU ARE IN THE PIT
Safe With Me
This amazing gif made by @beccaplaying - THANKYOU!
Warnings: violence, smut, unbeta’d writing.
3am.
York balls up the blood-stained t-shirt he’s yanked off, pushes off the thin latex gloves. A random dumpster in an alleyway catches his eye, and he glances around. It’s a good few feet from any of the streetlamps. Perfect.
He tosses the clothes; pulls a new t-shirt out of his go-bag, shrugs it on. The night is balmy and now he looks like any other tourist after a night propping up one bar or another - plain t-shirt and jeans, big backpack.
He’s learned how to dissemble his MK12 silently, and wraps it in spare clothes to bulk out the backpack. He ruffles a hand through his hand, pulls a souvenir bottle of whiskey from his pocket, douses himself in it. Now he smells like he’d been propping up a bar, too.
The streetlamps shine pale halos on to the pavement as he walks, his mind carefully blank. He never thinks about his kills afterwards. What’s the point?
It crosses his mind that he didn’t get injured this time, so he won’t need her. Florence.
Their relationship - is it a relationship? - confounds and humbles him.
York doesn’t kid himself that she probably wouldn’t look twice at him on the subway; or at a speed dating night. Theirs is a connection born out of necessity, but even so, he’s reached for her more than once after a nightmare jerked him upright in bed; jacked off to the memory of her soft skin when he’s alone in the shower.
So when he hears her voice, he’s almost convinced that he’s dreaming it.
“Stop. Stop!”
York rounds the corner on silent feet - years of training have taught him to move without being seen or heard.
And there she is. Florence, but not as he knows her. She wears a light sweater; a messenger bag slung over her shoulder. Two guys cage her in - both taller, way broader than her. One looks like he’s holding a shiv. York would’ve snorted in disgust if it didn’t put him in danger of being given away.
He assesses the scene for a moment.
“Please,” Florence is saying. “Please. You can take anything I have.”
Over my dead body, York thinks. Florence has saved him, and now the universe has seen fit for him to receive a chance to return the favour.
He reaches into the waistband of his jeans, palms his little Beretta. Aims; shoots the side of the dumpster to the left of Bozo #1.
The asshat yelps; and from this angle it looks as if he pisses himself. York smiles without humour. He settles in behind the postbox, watches, waits.
“What the fuck was that?” Bozo #2 yells, and grabs Florence by the throat.
She gasps.
And that’s enough.
York shoves the Beretta back into his waistband and rounds the postbox. Bozo #1 never sees him coming and with a flick of York’s wrist, the man is out for the count, dropping like a stone to the tarmac. He’ll have a hell of a headache come tomorrow.
Bozo #2 sees his buddy fall and yanks Florence against him, the pathetic little shiv half a foot from her neck.
“Who’s there?” he demands.
Florence stays perfectly still. She knows, York thinks. The doc has been working with black ops soldiers for three years; she’d recognise one anywhere.
There are no streetlights in this alley, so the darkness works to York’s advantage. He presses himself against the wall, regulates his breathing. He could fire another warning shot, but this wannabe gangster’s hand is shaking so bad that a jerk of his arm might harm Florence.
And hurting Florence is a hard line that York will never, ever cross.
He slides a hand slowly into his jean pocket, feels for the little knife; it’s there. He palms it, breathes in and out, slow and steady, and aims. He can see just peachy in the dark thanks to all that murder training.
York hurls the knife. It slams into the meat of Bozo #2’s thigh. No artery has been hit, but he’ll probably have a scar.
Bozo #2 yelps as his leg collapses under him and he crumples to the dry, dirty concrete. The shiv drops to the ground too, clattering.
Florence surges forward and without thinking York grabs for her, wraps his arms around her. She’s fine. She’s fine.
“It’s me,” he murmurs when she jerks in panic, and when she turns her face up to look at him, he’s struck by her beauty, her eyes flashing in the nearby gleam from the blinking lights of an ATM.
“David.”
God, he loves it when she calls him that. No one else does. It’s like their secret language.
Uncaring about what happens to Bozos #1 or #2, he takes her hand, leads her away. “What were you doing out here, so late?”
Florence gives him the side eye. “Patching up under-the-table guys isn’t my only job.”
“Right.”
“I was leaving the hospital. Pulled a double shift.” Her fingers clench in his. He should let her hand go, but he doesn’t.
“And you didn’t think to drive?” he wishes he could bite the very father-like comment back.
“I like walking at night.”
He gets it. People like them thrive in the darkness. It’s how they justify what they do. Florence, not so much, but York, yes. He belongs in the dark, doesn’t deserve to see the light after the lives he’s taken.
“I’ll walk you home,” he says into the balmy night air.
She doesn’t disagree. She doesn’t ask where he’s been; she probably knows.
Five minutes later, they reach her building, a modest mid-century brownstone with what York supposes is good-enough security. Perhaps he’ll come by one night and replace the camera with a better one.
Florence digs her key from her pocket. “So, this is me.”
York shakes his head. “Uh- uh. I’ll come in, clear your place.”
He can’t see, for sure, but it seems like she rolls her eyes just a little, but she doesn’t argue.
They take the steps together.
“I’m not sure you knowing where I live is part of the arrangement McCall made,” she says, a bit breathlessly.
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
“I know it is, David.” She thumbs through the keys and selects the one for Number 12, offers it to him.
He slides it into the lock soundlessly, pockets the little curve of metal and then plucks the beretta from the small of his back, holding it ahead of him.
Florence is silent behind.
When he’s cleared her small apartment, she closes the door, looks up into his eyes. “Thankyou. For what you did.”
Her gratitude makes him uncomfortable. “No problem. Those jerks gave me an opportunity to clear the red in my ledger.”
Florence’s gaze goes soft. “David-” She lifts her hand to his cheek. Her lips part, slightly.
And then he’s on her like a starving man being given a taste of food after too, too long. He shoves his backpack off his shoulder as Florence’s arms wind around his neck, and he licks into her mouth, desperate. Wanting to show without words how fucking delirious with happiness he is that she’s here, alive. He tucks his hands under her ass, lifts her up, backs them into the door, as she winds her legs around his hips.
His name falls from her lips like a supplication to whatever God is listening as he starts to ravage her neck, using his tongue and teeth to pull moans and sighs from her. Her hands tunnel into his hair and he thinks I need her more than I need air, and he bucks his hips into the sweet softness of her, and even though they’re both clothed, he feels the tingle of an orgasm start at the base of his spine.
“David…”
He looks up.
“You smell like whiskey.”
“Decoy,” he mutters.
“Shower,” she says with a raised brow.
He grunts a response; doesn’t bother putting her down, but carries her through the apartment. The bathroom door is open which makes it easier. He begrudges it but he sets Florence down gently, as if she’ll break if he treats her like anything save fine china, and then she blows that image away by falling on him, tearing at his clothes, yanking his t-shirt over his head. He fumbles at her clothing, feeling like a man who has won the lottery and is cursed all at the same time. He has been inside this woman, but not like this. Not skin to skin, not like they’re about to be, with the hot water rushing over their bodies.
Florence shoves his jeans down and then kneels, unlacing his combat boots. He steps out of them, meets her gaze, sees the fire dancing in his eyes.
Naked, he pulls her into the shower as she turns the water on hot. The spray slicks their bodies, and Florence mouths at the hollow of his throat, her tongue laving his skin.
York explores the curves and valleys of her eagerly with his hands; he knows they’re gun-calloused, rough in places, but her cat-like mewls tell him she likes it. When one of her small hands slides down to cup him intimately, he feels himself jerk in her grasp, and she purrs.
Who knew Dr Nightingale could be so naughty? Fuck, it’s hot, she is hot, and he’s going to lose it like an untried boy if he isn’t careful.
Florence kisses her fingertips down the scar on his chest; the one she stitched just before the first, and only time, they made love, when she rode him carefully, so slowly he thought he’d die from the tension in his balls.
“David.” She then kisses the scar, and his knees go weak for a moment. New wetness streaks down his chest - different texture to the shower, and he realises with horror that she’s crying.
He cups her face, looks into her eyes.
“Don’t cry. Sweetheart, don’t cry.”
“You mustn’t put yourself in danger for me,” she hiccups out, pressing her face into his neck. “What happens when the music stops?”
York swallows hard. I don’t know how many songs I have left. That’s what he’d said to her, that first time. Maybe he wishes he could take the words back.
“I would put myself in danger for you every second,” he rasps into her ear. “For you - anything. Everything.”
She is silent for a moment that stretches; the only sound the rushing water. Then, “Please. Please.”
And he kneels down, bracing his hands on her hips and makes love to her with his mouth, for how long, he doesn’t know. Time ceases to matter. He drinks in the taste of her, licking and sucking, learning just where to use his teeth to make her fist her hands in his hair, sob his name brokenly. When he stands up, holding her to him, her legs shake, and she kisses him fiercely, desperately, breaking apart only to fill her hands with strawberry soap. When she wraps her palms around him, stroking, taking her time to learn every move that makes him gasp, every twist of her fist that has him gulping him, she wrings an orgasm so powerful from him that he swears he blacks out, just for a second.
They dry each other off gently, silently, and when Florence leads him to her bed, he should say no. He should go home. He should get as far away from her as possible. She isn’t a killer, shouldn’t be tarnished by the blood on his hands. So much blood.
But he lets her wrap herself around him, and he holds her tightly, so tightly he might leave marks, but her hair smells of strawberries, and she might be the only pure thing he has left in this world.
He holds her all night long.
Another AMAZING gif by @beccaplaying !
Tagging people who I think will like this: @songsformonkeys @buckstaposition @alldatalost @abuttoncalledsmalls @knittingqueen13 @dornish-queen @agirllovespasta @winters-buck @heatherbel @holographic-carmen @the-green-kid @pajamasecrets @lannister-slings-and-arrows @engineeredfiction @restingnurseface @mrschiltoncat @lackofhonor @emmy-dandiliom918 @opheliaelysia @poenariuniverse
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Nothing Sweeter Than a Touching Scene (Noir AU Side Stories)
The Marmalade on 10,000 Pieces of Toast
Deacon finally gets the chance to cook breakfast for Charmer. In a tender moment, he shares some truths about his past and thinks about a future with Madelyn.
(Takes place during Chapter 16 (17 on Ao3) of Salvation is a Last Minute Business.)
“Another day, another ball of fire rising in the summer sky. The city is quiet now, but it will soon be pounding with activity. This time yesterday, Jean Dexter was just another pretty girl, but now she's the marmalade on 10,000 pieces of toast.”—The Narrator as played by Mark Hellinger (The Naked City, 1948)
4393 words | [read on Ao3]
May 31st, 1958
“The most intimate thing you can do for a person you love is cook them breakfast.”
Words to live by—echoes from a former life—advice Deacon still believed in after so many years. He’d always been somewhat of a hopeless romantic, and despite the amount of tragedy the universe—or God—had thrown his way, he remained steadfast in his convictions. A dangerous thing, given his line of work. If there was one thing he’d learned from watching Casablanca, it was that you didn’t fall in love in the middle of a war.
Not to say the investigation into the Institute was anything like fighting Nazis in Europe—or maybe it was. The days he was getting shot at certainly felt like it, not to mention the car bombs (okay car bomb—but one destroyed Volkswagen typically led to another). And then there were his fallen comrades—Railroad agents that had died at the Switchboard, Ticonderoga, and Augusta safehouse. This was war alright—Deacon only hoped that V-Day was sooner, rather than later.
Through the darkness of it all, he’d found someone—again—and was clinging to the hope that this time, maybe, it would last. That this time, the cruel hand of fate wouldn’t reach down and snatch her from his grasp, just as their connection deepened. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—lose her. Charmer—Madelyn—she was—
“Fuck,” Deacon hissed under his breath as he dropped an egg to the floor, frowning at the mess he’d made while distracted by his thoughts. He shot a glance down the hallway towards the half-open bedroom door, waiting several seconds for the telltale sounds of his creaky mattress and the even squeakier floorboards. But nothing came—good—she was still asleep. Full speed ahead with operation breakfast in bed.
Ignoring the broken shells and splattered yolk at his feet, Deacon considered himself to be a good cook. He hadn’t had very many opportunities to show off the skill and providing late night meals after Railroad ops to Drummer Boy didn’t count—the schmuck would eat anything without appreciation of the craft—couldn’t even tell the difference between Ragù and Bolognese. Madelyn though, she understood it was an artform, just like one of his many other clandestine talents.
She’d watched him intently the evening before as he prepared their meal—beef bourguignon—just as he’d promised. It would’ve been easier to eat at the 24-hour diner down the block, especially after all they’d been through that day. Hell, the holiday weekend had barely started and Madelyn had managed to be shot at twice. But she insisted, even if it took all night just to have a home-cooked meal made by him. She meant it colloquially—the home in home-cooked—but it struck a chord with him, glancing over his shoulder as he sautéed vegetables to look at her perched on one of the barstools.
Madelyn had been smiling in that small, secret way, blue eyes bright and entranced by his every movement. Deacon contemplated telling her she looked like she belonged there, in the safehouse, in the closest thing he had to a home—had very nearly asked her something far more dangerous after watching her savor the first bite. He held back his words, filled his mouth and burnt his tongue on hot stew, and laughed with her about French cooking and red wine. But the thought persisted—how nice it would be to settle down with her—if she’d have him.
He always was the type to fall too hard, and too fast.
Their first time had been rushed, fervent and had resulted in a few smashed items along the kitchen counter. There was no less passion in their kisses that second night, dinner finished and wine bottle empty, but there was a cadence to it all as they took the time to better familiarize themselves with one another—get lost in each other. Deacon wasn’t entirely sure if he’d gone soft, gone mad, or had died and gone to heaven. Maybe it was a sick combination of the three. Love always was like that, it seemed—a little part of yourself breaking off and floating away as it found root in the heart of one’s beloved.
“Damn,” he breathed a curse again, softly laughing to himself about the circumstances and bringing himself back to the present. He was in deep.
He caught his distorted reflection in the shiny surface of the toaster as he retrieved the crispy bread from the appliance, stacking it onto a plate next to a tiny jar of orange marmalade. “Shallow ends’ for chumps.”
Deacon quietly hummed a showtune as he organized the food on the wooden tray, plating the over-easy eggs next to the crispy bacon and freshly made hash-browns. He placed the glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in one corner before situating the steaming cup of coffee in the other. He stood back to inspect his work, adjusting the silverware and lamenting that he didn’t have any fresh flora on hand to make the display perfect. Somehow he knew that Madelyn wouldn’t mind.
He balanced the weight of the tray in his hands before carefully making his way back down the hall, smiling at his efforts and rehearsing in his mind all the little ways he could wake her up. Deacon used his foot to push open the bedroom door but paused in the doorway as soon as he caught sight of Madelyn’s form on the bed. She was blissfully asleep, the picture of comfort dressed up in his button-down shirt from the evening before with the duvet pulled up across her waist, hair fanned out across the pillows like a golden halo of curls. With the sun shining in through the drawn-open curtains, she looked like she had walked right out of a movie—or maybe his dreams. Deacon suddenly cursed the fact Nick got to call her doll, but maybe he could stake a claim on angel.
“Are you going to stand there all morning?”
Madelyn peeked open one eye, lips curling up into a small grin as she looked at him, hardly a trace of drowsiness in her voice.
“The view is nice,” Deacon replied, watching as she leisurely pushed herself up to sit against the pillows and headboard. She stretched, arms reaching high above her head and shifting the fabric of the shirt she wore just enough that he saw a sliver of skin. He smiled at the cute way she yawned, wrinkled nose and all. “Just how long have you been awake?”
“Since that first egg crack,” she shrugged, eyeing the tray in his hands. “I’m a light sleeper, don’t you know? You can’t sneak out or up on me.”
“As tempting as it was to follow you out to the kitchen and join you, I decided feigning sleep was a better idea,” Madelyn continued with a quiet giggle, hiding her amusement behind her fingers. The delight and mischief in her eyes was intoxicating. “Let you surprise me.”
Deacon raised his eyebrows, lifting the tray as if on cue. “Surprise!”
He finally entered the room, crossing over to one side of the bed as Madelyn shifted to create space for him to place the tray of food down before he sat on the edge of the mattress. He turned to face her, stretching to rest his chin in his palm, elbow sinking into the plush blankets. She grinned, eyes shimmering as they scanned over the platter.
“First dinner, now breakfast—”
“A show too,” Deacon joked, prompting her to snicker as he alluded to their more boisterous activities.
“It was quite the performance,” she replied, gaze running over his body and lack of clothing—an undershirt and boxers was good enough for a lazy day at the safehouse. “I feel thoroughly spoiled.”
“Good,” he responded, nodding at her. “Now eat, before all my hard work goes cold.”
Deacon stayed where he was, lounging sideways on the bed as he watched her eat. He stole the occasional bite of bacon, smirking to himself when he noted the little blush dusting her cheeks, seemingly flustered under his observation. In the morning light, without his sunglasses or dark-haired wig, the two underdressed in their most natural states it was all very domestic—something Deacon hadn’t experienced in years. Might as well have been a lifetime. No wonder she felt nervous.
His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, on the verge of saying something incredibly stupid and too soon, caught up in the afterglow and butterflies that continued to swirl around in his stomach. He quelled them with a generous sip of her coffee, even if the added sugar and cream wasn’t his preference. Madelyn laughed at his subtle wince, swapping the ceramic cup from his hands for a piece of toast. She’d spread a generous dollop of marmalade atop and had taken one bite before passing it to him.
“What’s the verdict?” he asked before taking a mouthful.
“With skills like this, you could replace Codsworth,” she quipped, smiling against the rim of the coffee cup. “What a shame you don’t have a third arm.”
“I don’t?” he teased between chews, raising a curious eyebrow.
Madelyn nearly choked on her sip of coffee, spluttering out the liquid into her hand and reaching for a napkin as she laughed at his lewd joke. As flustered as she was before, she was completely flushed now, neck and cheeks tinted a bright red as she struggled to contain her amusement and embarrassment at the mess she’d made. Deacon laughed with her, taking the cup from her hands to place back on the tray and offering another napkin as he sat up.
“You’re too much,” she sighed, slowly pulling the cloth from her face to reveal a coy smile.
Deacon took it from her, dropping it across the food tray before sliding it away and placing it safely on the ground. He sat in the empty spot, leaning over so his arms boxed her in on either side, fingers gradually peeling away the blankets to expose her naked legs. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Madelyn leaned closer, arms circling around his shoulders as she traced her nose against his, lips smiling against his in the ghost of a kiss. “Jury is still out…if you’re bad for me.”
She was teasing him, Deacon knew that. But still, his heart strained against his ribcage, though he hid his reaction well. He knew he wasn’t the best choice for Madelyn—out of all the eligible bachelors in Boston, she could do so much better than some Railroad spy that couldn’t tell the truth. Lately, he’d been honest with her, but there was still so much she didn’t know—so much he would never tell her, just to keep her safe. That’s not the kind of partner she needed in life, not the kind of person you chose to share a future with.
Yet, there he was—there she was—kissing him just as sweetly and enthusiastically as the night before, as she’d done the first night he’d brought her to the safehouse. She’d kissed him a few weeks ago too, outside her apartment door, full of want and silently pleading, confirming to him that she’d made her choice.
“You,” she’d breathed, hot against his mouth when they were perched on the barstools two nights ago. “Deacon, I want you.”
Invigorated by the memory, he tugged Madelyn closer, her legs shuffling from beneath the covers and body shifting beneath his desperate grasp so that her knees straddled his thighs. He groaned, the feeling of her soft hands and manicured nails sliding up beneath his shirt a welcome surprise that had him breaking away from the heated kiss so she could remove it completely. Deacon moved to do the same to the button-up she was wearing, make some kind of raunchy remark about how good she looked wearing his clothes, but she stopped him. Instead, Madelyn nudged him to lay down, adjusting herself so she was strategically straddling his hips, avoiding his ever-increasing arousal.
He gripped her waist, keeping her steady as she bent over to pepper his face with tiny kisses, trailing down and away to his ear. He bit back a moan, glancing at the top of her blonde head. “Cruel, cruel mistress.”
Madelyn softly chuckled against his skin, the sound and feeling doing nothing to placate his state. “Have somewhere you need to be?”
“No,” he answered in a breath, shifting beneath her, holding back from rolling his hips upwards. He smirked to himself, knowing she was just as riled up. “Well, inside of you. If those travel plans can be arranged.”
Deacon felt her smile, more importantly, the shiver along her spine at his cheeky statement. “I’ll book you on a first-class flight.”
Despite their obvious arousal, and her equally bawdy response (that had him tightening his grip and practically growling), Madelyn slowed her movements, pulling away to look down at his face. Her expression was hard to read, even as she softly smiled at him in that small, secret way, a few fingers brushing over the lines of his face.
“Charmer?” he prompted, the worry from before suddenly worming its way back into his chest with an overwhelming sense of dread. Did she have the same doubts?
“Can I ask you something?” her voice was deadly quiet, just above a whisper and she was barely able to meet his gaze.
The open-ended question terrified him, and he had to admit that in that moment he was emotionally and physically vulnerable—what with being pinned beneath her body to the mattress. Even if he could easily toss her aside and run away, he’d still have to answer to her eventually. Unless he ran away for good—but that was not an option, not when he’d resigned himself to drown in her waters and die a sweet, sweet death.
So he answered, nodding once. “Yeah,” he squeezed her hip in a reassuring gesture. He bit the inside of his cheek as the next word came flying out without thought. “Anything.”
Even Madelyn seemed surprised, leaning further away until she was sitting up so she could trace the faint, ridged outline of a scar that ran along his chest towards his collarbone. Even though he’d given her permission, she was hesitant, teeth raking over her bottom lip as she studied the old injury. He recalled her lingering touch against it, and other marks along his skin as they fell asleep—it was bound to come up eventually.
Finally, her soft voice broke through the silence. “What happened?”
Deacon considered lying—it would’ve been very easy to make up some fantastical story about any one of his scars, but Madelyn always had been very astute at deciphering his wild tales and white lies. Most of the time she ignored it, let him have his fun, or added grandeur herself. Other times, especially as of late, she wanted the truth—and it likely had to do with their developing relationship. He owed her that much, and a part of him felt relieved at the decision.
“Normandy,” he started, Madelyn’s eyes widening in shock, a gasp on her lips. The assumption was there, that he had stormed the beaches on D-Day, but no. “I was fighting in Caen, in the city, with British Allies. German bastard got too close for comfort.”
“I don’t know why I should be surprised that you served,” Madelyn whispered, still focused on the scar. “Hard to imagine you fighting somebody else’s war.”
“Plenty of Railroad business overseas,” Deacon shrugged, catching her puzzled expression, eyebrow arched as she met his eyes. “Or at least what would eventually become the Railroad.”
Madelyn seemed to read between the lines, a slow, knowing smile creeping across her lips. “So, you’ve always been a spy.”
Deacon didn’t say anything, matching her grin instead. He knew it was harder to hide the deviousness of a non-answer without the help of his shades, but he was still going to try, if only to rile Madelyn up. She laughed, much to his delight, head tilting back and exposing her neck. He wanted to reach up and unbutton the shirt—his shirt—to expose more skin, wanted to kiss her, keep her there with him forever.
“I was sixteen in 1944…” Madelyn trailed, reaching down to thread her fingers through the hair along his temple. “Just how old are you, Deacon?”
There was humor in her question, but it startled him all the same and he had to quickly remind himself of how bare he was, how easily she could read the subtle emotions on his face. Not that he’d forgotten his age or anything, but he’d suppressed so much of his past and youth that the truth was murky. Just like his war-scars, or his name (which she hadn’t spoken aloud since discovering, to his surprise), this subject was fair game. It was amusing really, how completely backwards they’d gone about forming a partnership—relationship. Then again, their courtship was anything from conventional.
“Old enough to remember prohibition,” he finally replied with a grin, chuckling at her visible confusion as she performed silent equations in her mind. She leaned forward, palms flat against his chest as she scrutinized his face with a wary look.
“You aren’t robbing the cradle with me, now are you?”
Deacon guffawed, one hand tickling at her side and prompting her to wiggle against him in the delightful way he wanted as she giggled. “Not that old, sweetheart. And you aren’t that young.”
“Hey,” she pouted, mocking offense as she pushed away from him once again. “My birthday isn’t for another month.”
That’s right. If he’d read her license correctly (because yes, Madelyn had been correct to assume he’d been snooping through some of her things), she was turning thirty on July 1st. Well, it was only fair since he knew her age, that she knew his. Birthday and astrological sign could come later, maybe over a bottle of brandy, or after a blood oath—just kidding.
“Forty-one and some change,” he said, watching her expression carefully. Instead of amusement or uncertainty, there was a calm sense of wonderment in her baby-blues, scanning over his face like she was seeing him for the first time.
She lowered herself close again, bracing herself against his chest as she brushed her fingers through his hair again, trailing her fingers down across his temple and jaw line before tracing the angle of his nose and the line of his lips. Madelyn regarded him with the tiniest of smiles as she moved, painting him with her brush—he was all too willing to be her canvas.
She kissed the corner of his mouth before slowly erupting into a fit of giggles. “How much change, old man?”
Deacon laughed with her but was more preoccupied by the way she angled her head as she lost herself to her amusement, exposing the soft skin of her neck. This time, he couldn’t hold back and bucked the weight of her body from his hips, hooking his arms around her waist before flipping them so her back was flush against the mattress and he was hovering above her, lips already kissing a teasing line from her chin to her ear.
“How long do I have you for today?” he asked, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt.
“I don’t have anywhere to be but here, with you.”
Leave it to Madelyn to say something romantic, without a trace of lewdness. She sighed, softly moaning as he kissed along her neck and the collar of the shirt. Deacon slowed his movements, even before she spoke again, breathing out the words against the shell of his ear. “No need to rush.”
An affirmation, even as he was drowning in the deep end. Maybe it was time to come up for air, at least for a little while.
Deacon pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, holding her body to his as he rolled to his side. He nestled his head into the pillow, tightening his arm around her waist and smiling when she kissed him softly in return, tucking her arm around his middle. Slow—he could do slow. A nice, and wonderful change of pace to his wild and unpredictable, hectic life. He found comfort in the silence formed between them as they simply stared at one another, studying each other’s faces with quiet expressions.
“A secret for a secret,” Madelyn suddenly prompted, though Deacon was unsure of how much time had truly passed. As if she could tell that he didn’t understand, she continued. “I asked you something. You can ask me something, if you want.”
Tit for tat—Madelyn always was good about keeping things square. His mind swirled with the possibilities, and he very nearly responded with a hushed everything. She wanted the truth, right?
“A secret you haven’t learned about me yet?” she teased, tilting her head back so she could better see his face.
More questions floated through his head, but they all sounded too invasive, even for him, especially for where they were in their undefined relationship. Since she mentioned it, what was she like at sixteen? What were her parents like? Had she ever been overseas? She’d love Paris—or maybe Dublin, take her back to her roots. What did she look like on her wedding day? What was it like to be married to Nate, and…could she ever love again?
Yeah, those were all way too intrusive.
Deacon swallowed back the tightness in his throat. He needed to say something before his mood spiraled or he said something rash. “Can you help me get out of some parking tickets? Lawyers can do that, right?”
Madelyn flashed him a curious look, the faintest hint of disappointment at his deflection of humor before softly laughing. She’d expected him to ask something more personal, just as she’d done, and he’d goofed.
“When they aren’t providing legal advice to grisly detectives or being shot up at city hall, I suppose,” Madelyn spoke, with enough mirth in her tone to relax him, make him feel like he hadn’t offended her. “Which reminds me. I need more clothes from my apartment. I can’t walk around in dirty, blood stained dresses all weekend.”
“I’m sure I saw it as the latest fashion trend in Vogue,” Deacon joked in reply. “At this rate, Nick owes you a stipend. Or a shopping spree at Bergdorf Goodman.”
She grinned, obviously delighted by the idea. “You know, Nick doesn’t pay me. The city does. But I won’t pass up a trip to Fifth Avenue, if you’re offering.”
A day trip to Manhattan didn’t sound too bad, when she put it that way. He mirrored her smile, sliding his hand over her side. “You’re already the best dressed lawyer in Massachusetts.”
“Flatterer,” she said, a wistfully. “Save the designer labels for when I’m back in court.”
Deacon thought about that, and her time spent away from the District Attorney’s office as Nick’s legal aid. “Ever thought about opening your own practice?”
Madelyn’s eyes shined with a different kind of excitement, as if the thought had never crossed her mind. And if it had, she hadn’t given it much serious thought. Which was really all just a shame, all things considered. Her nervous silence didn’t deter Deacon.
“You belong with the big-wigs down at city hall, Charmer,” he encouraged, watching the corner of her mouth twitch up in a smile—good. “You’d even have a shot at becoming state attorney if you wanted.”
She breathed a laugh, but it wasn’t out of disbelief. Her cheeks were dusted with the lightest blush and he wondered if he was the first person to ever tell her something like that. But why not? Madelyn deserved good things, great things, and he would move heaven and earth to give it to her, if it was what she wanted.
“Big dreams for the future,” she responded. A non-answer, but he didn’t need one, based off of her bright expression. “What do you want?”
The question was a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from him. His heart seized for a moment before continuing, racing in his chest. Deacon knew Madelyn could sense the rapid pace of his pulse, and the anxiety etched into his features. For a long time he’d resigned himself to a life of subterfuge, to a life of lies and deception. After Barbara, he was married to his life as a spy and his life in the Railroad. There was nothing else—there could be nothing else. Until now.
Now he was shifting, suddenly dusting off cobwebs and morphing his life in ways he never thought possible to make room for somebody else. Somebody he wanted, somebody he needed. Somebody to share his life with. Terrifying, thrilling and mesmerizing all the same. He spoke the truth.
“Someplace to rest my head.”
“Hmm,” Madelyn sighed, softly smiling in agreement as she reached up to comb her fingers through his hair. He was beginning to think that she liked seeing him without the pompadour wig and preferred the auburn waves. “Well deserved.”
“Where have you been all my life?” he asked, well before he could hold back from saying it, tightening his jaw and inhaling sharply at the shock of his own words. At least Madelyn interpreted it as flirtatious banter rather than anything too serious, flashing him a cheeky grin as she closed the distance between them to kiss him sweetly, lingering there against his mouth.
“Boston,” she whispered. Before he could continue the kiss or bring her any closer she rolled away, onto her back, turning her head to look at him. She prompted him, beckoning him to snuggle against her side. “Come here.”
Deacon was considerably bigger than her, but she didn’t seem to mind the weight of his body laying halfway atop her, his head resting against her shoulder with her arm wrapped across his shoulder, their legs tangled together across the blankets. It was different, but a good kind of different—exactly what he needed.
“Just stay here a little while, like this?” she asked, quietly.
He didn’t mind staying like that forever. “Anything you want, Charmer.”
#fallout 4#noir au#deacon x f!solesurvivor#deacon#madelyn hardy#noir au side stories#this is the domestic fluff you're looking for#fallout fanfic#LOOK I wrote something
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If u did the dare me kind it will make me very happy, i love your writing and i love them sooo
a teeny tiny snippet of a dare me wip, half gallon of milk and all
Addy sees her again for the first time in six years in the aisle of the grocery store.
Beth is cradling a half-gallon jug of milk under one arm, hip propping open a glass freezer door.
This is a fantasy Addy has toyed with for so long. She has played her thoughts over its potential again and again until it felt nearly like a memory. For the vivid colors of everything she had imagined, the moment it actually happens is ghostly, translucent. She can feel the instant passing even as it unspools out in front of her.
It’s a twilight zone. Addy’s carefully spun fictions splitting and streaming around the reality.
They don’t meet again on the mats, or in the dim lighting of a party, or rain soaked on her front stoop, but here – at the lip of aisle 7, Beth juggling a plastic jug while she considers endless stacks of Styrofoam egg cartons.
Beth still doesn’t see her. Her lips are moving, like she’s reading the packaging to herself, silently. She looks older. Her cheeks fuller, her hair lighter, the way it gets when she’s spent a whole summer in the sun.
Baggy sweatpants sit low on her hips, her crewneck pullover a dreamy blue. She isn’t wearing makeup and it feels like a novelty to see her here, like this, face bare. Beautiful. Addy can see the creases at the corner of her smile. If she didn’t know better, she would mistake them for laugh lines.
Addy is frozen beside a wire rack of chips. Tinkling muzak pipes through the speakers, filtering down through watery, fluorescent lighting.
Beth deliberates. Decides. Withdraws a dozen eggs in a cardboard carton. As she moves, her sleeve slips up her arm, revealing an expanse of her pale, narrow wrist.
At the sight of it, of her skin, an intimate battleground she used to know better than anything, Addy takes a reflexive step back. The beginning of a retreat. Her leg jars the shelving, just barely, but the hollow metallic echo is enough to draw Beth’s attention.
Beth looks up, eyes fixing on Addy. There is a beat of silence. Addy can tell the exact moment Beth sees her, really sees her. Her face flickers through a sickening slideshow, like a stream of light ghosting from the mouth of a projector.
First, surprise. Her fairytale lips fall into a perfect ‘o.’ Her knuckles whiten around the handle of the milk jug.
Next, hurt. Just a breath of it, enough that if Addy hadn’t spent years studying this landscape, she would miss it.
Then, worst of all, interest. Keen. Familiar.
Beth smiles.
She takes a step forward. The freezer door swings shut.
“Addy Hanlon. Of all the gin joints –” She shifts the weight of the milk to her hip, the eggs tucked under one arm. One hand stretches out. Addy realizes, belatedly, it’s meant for her to take.
“Beth,” Addy says. Then. “What are you doing here?”
Beth withdraws her hand, and her mouth twists. “Same as you, I would assume.” She shrugs. “Late night grocery run. Is that a problem?”
Addy is embarrassed to find herself already stumbling. Six years. A lifetime for a 23-year-old. And in thirty seconds, Beth Cassidy already has her on her back foot.
She feels at once completely and utterly 17. She can’t remember what to do with her hands.
“No, of course not. I was just –” she trails off, searching, “Surprised.”
“Same small town,” Beth says. She shrugs. “We always used to come here. Only a matter of time, I guess.”
Addy almost loses the train of conversation, too busy trying to re-remember the shape of Beth’s collarbones. A hint of them peaks above the scoop of her collar.
Flatly, she says, “I guess.” Too busy with: the ridge of her knuckles, the arch of her brow, her weight shifting from foot to foot, like the milk is getting heavy.
“It’s been—” Addy starts.
Beth cuts her off. “Yeah.”
The sight of Beth haloed by linoleum and fluorescence smash-cuts Addy back to high school. Beth driving them to the townie grocery store on the edge town, jeep tires spraying gravel in the parking lot, a little stoned. They would raid the aisles for Little Debbie snacks and pork rinds to spit back up later. Would buy Smirnoff Ice at the register with the clerk who never carded if they flashed cleavage and big smiles.
Beth, then, tilting her head at Addy at the mouth of the dairy aisle, smiling her just-for-Addy-smile.
Beth, now, waving a hand in front of her face.
“Hanlon? Anybody home?”
Addy jars back to present, finds her palms clammy. “Sorry?”
A little amused now, eggs swapped to the other hand. “I just asked if you were back all summer?”
“Just for July,” Addy says. “Trying to keep Faith happy.” She looks around, like she’s seeing the store for the first time. “It’s my first time home in months.”
It feels so pedestrian to talk like this. A casual catch-up conversation, like you would with anyone you fell out of touch with after high school. Something about it feels dirty, almost taboo.
“How about you?”
“Same,” Beth says. She turns now, starts to walk. Without thinking, Addy follows, falling into step a pace behind. “I have a month before my masters program starts up, then it’s back to school.”
Reflexively, Addy reaches out to take the half gallon jug of milk from Beth’s arms, just to relieve her of the weight. Beth’s eyes flash wide, but she says nothing. This close, Addy can smell a hint of her perfume. Like she didn’t wash yesterday’s floral blush from her pulse points, from the side of her neck.
They steer toward the register, already in step.
“Grad school. Wow. Congrats, Beth.”
Addy finds she means it. Beth flashes her a smile, a little shy, cheeks dimpling. “Thanks. I heard you weren’t doing too bad yourself.”
“Who said?” Addy has been careful not to ask after Beth, and only comes back to Sutton Grove when its necessary, too scared to peel back the scab of old wounds.
That sly Beth grin, eyes shifting. “I have my sources.”
Steps echo off the tile floor as they dodge through the aisles. Just past 10 p.m., the grocery is all but empty, humid night air crowding the floor-to-ceiling windows of the storefront, reflections warped and watery in the glass.
They play at small talk, the rhythm of it unreal in the ghost town of empty aisles.
Only the sign above register three is lit, the decal peeling off the plastic, yellow light flickering. A lone employee stands at the till, flicking through his phone, blue light throwing his cheekbones into sharp relief.
Beth rests the eggs on the conveyor belt and Addy crowds in behind her to set the milk next to it. Their hips bump. Beth smells exactly the same. It’s such a mind-fuck that the simple, incidental press of warm hip on warm hip is enough to send her reeling.
Addy is suddenly certain she is going to die in a fucking Save-A-Lot outlet on the edge of town.
White teeth digging into a full bottom lip, Beth looks up at her through her lashes. Addy burrows her hands deep in the pocket of her hoodie, nods toward the register.
“You gonna pay?”
A hum. Beth produces a wrinkled bill from the waistband of her sweatpants. A pale flash of skin, the divot of her navel. “Always in a hurry.”
When she turns to the lone employee, Addy thinks she catches her wink.
Addy trails her to the parking lot, to an unfamiliar car. Beth pops the trunk, old-fashioned style, key-in-lock, and dumps the lone plastic bag into it.
With their mission completed, silence falls over them. They turn to one another under the pooled light of the lot’s sole floodlight. They shuffle their feet in the gravel. Beth seems so small like this. Her sleeve falls over her fingertips, and she pushes it back absently with one hand.
Addy looks hard at her forearm, stops herself from reaching out to touch.
She has a terrible idea and speaks before she can stop herself.
“So Riri is throwing a party. Kind of a reunion?” Addy’s voice tilts up into a question. They don’t need to mention that this used to be the kind of thing Beth would never need an invite to, let alone need to be told about it. “Nothing crazy, just drinking wine and talking about,” Addy flaps a hand, “the good old days.”
The cliché feels stale on her tongue and she immediately regrets it.
Beth looks at her evenly, silent.
Addy shrugs, fixes her gaze on the edge of the lot, where the shadows around the dumpster are deep, scrubby grass poking through asphalt.
“You could come, if you wanted.” She makes the mistake of looking back into Beth’s cold eyes. “It could be like old times.”
“Wine, huh?” Beth’s voice is pitched, low, grating into the air between them. “That’s a change from trying to shotgun a watermelon Four Loko in the 7/11 parking lot at 1 a.m.”
Addy laughs before she can stop herself, remembering the night. “I think that’s the closest I’ve ever come to dying,” she says. A lie. “I think I saw God that night.” Possibly true. She can remember the world turning topsy-turvy, street lights glinting like stars against a murky, smog filled sky.
“Oh yeah?” Beth is smiling now, too. “What did she look like?”
Addy crinkles her nose. “A little like you actually.”
Beth snakes out a hand – that pale, pale wrist flashing in the dark – and sneaks Addy’s phone out of her pocket. She adds a contact, lightning fast, extends the phone. Addy takes it, heart stuttering, fluttering.
“Text me when. I’ll be there.”
Beth climbs into her car without looking back. Pauses to fix her hair in the rearview mirror before she starts the ignition.
Addy watches Beth peel out of the lot, driving fast, rear lights flaring like the embers of a cigarette on an inhale.
She plunges her hand into her pocket for her keys and hears a rustle. Pulling out a paper, she looks down at her grocery list. She didn’t buy a goddamn thing.
#dare me#my writing#i had to repost bc the readmore got erased#and i couldnt stand the idea of ppl wading through all that text on their dash#Anonymous
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Oh My God, They Were Roommates
A Mat/Rand Quarantine Drabble :D
Read on AO3
.
Day One
Mat dangles out of the window, eyes closed, hoping to catch one last whiff of alcohol—any alcohol, at this point—before the bar across the street closes forever.
“It’s only for the next month or two,” Rand chides him, pulling him back in before he tips right out of the window.
It would have been more merciful to let him fall the six storeys. A month without the bar is more than a death sentence. It’s a cruel and inhumane punishment, and Mat whines his protest loudly as he sinks to the floor beneath the window in a puddle of despair. Rand frowns worriedly at him and ruffles his hair gently—which does make him feel slightly better, though he’ll deny it in court.
Over on the couch, Perrin only rolls his eyes. “Lockdown in a nice apartment with reliable WiFi, my Netflix account to mooch off of, and Rand’s cooking. You’ll survive.”
Rand has moved away. Mat lets out a piteous sound, partly in protest to Perrin’s oversimplification of his tragic situation, and partly to encourage further headpats. As anticipated, Perrin rolls his eyes again and turns away—though Mat catches a fond smile quirking his lips as he does so—and Rand walks back over and sits next to Mat, patting his shoulder.
“It’ll be okay, Mat, you’ll see.” He gives one of those warm, gentle smiles. “We’ll have so much free time! We can learn new hobbies, I can keep practicing the flute, maybe we’ll finally get you to cook more than insta-ramen, we can stay up late and watch old movies and you can make fun of them, I know you like that, and…”
He keeps smiling as he talks, and, in spite of himself, Mat thinks that maybe, just maybe, this won’t be so bad.
.
Day Two
“Hey, guys,” Mat says over breakfast, with the widest grin Rand has ever seen. It’s the first time he’s smiled like that since the lockdown was announced, and Rand feels relief and warmth wash over him to see it.
“Hey, guys,” Mat repeats, “d’you know what we’re in right now?”
Perrin frowns. “An apartment?”
Mat’s grin widens impossibly. With barely contained glee: “Quarantimes.”
Perrin throws a bowl at him. Rand stifles an errant giggle, puts on a deadpan expression, and says, “I take it back. This is the worst.”
.
Day Five
Rand learns very quickly that there is a slight, slight issue in quarantining with his two best friends. It’s no big deal, really, he’s quite sure he can keep the problem contained for the next month or two without making a fool of himself, and the flame and void have always been very helpful in squashing down his emotions, so really there isn’t much of a problem at all, it’s just—he’s in love with one of them.
It’s easy being in love with Mat when they only see each other in the mornings and evenings, in the few classes they share, and on the weekends. It’s harder on holidays, when the three of them fly back to their shared hometown, spending long days roaming the streets to see what’s new, wandering through meadows and brooks and familiar, unchanging trees. But this? Sharing this tiny apartment with Mat, 24/7, with no work, no school, nothing but each other to keep themselves occupied? This is much, much worse.
Before the lockdown, when their lives kept them busy and apart, Rand could close his eyes and try to forget why he even liked Mat. The man is an obnoxious bastard, after all, and an absolute mess of a human being. He’d thought that being around him so much would only drive the point home—and, in a way, constant exposure to Mat and all his mattiness has been immensely trying, to say the least. He’s so loud, all the time, and he keeps forgetting to do the dishes, and he hogs all the WiFi with his nonstop streaming, not to mention the stupid 48-hour online gaming competition he’s gotten into with the upstairs neighbor. But…
Well, the problem with nonstop exposure to Mat’s mattiness is that it’s also given Rand a hundred and one reminders why he’d fallen for Mat in the first place. Reminders like his bright smiles, or the sound of his laughter, or his ceaseless snarky comments as he spies on the apartments across the street. Reminders like his infectious mischief, or his inability to go five minutes without referencing Vine, or the way the sun catches his face when he sits on the windowsill at dusk, one leg dangling out, a tiny act of rebellion against the virus keeping them all stuck indoors.
Rand sighs to himself as Mat’s voice floats over from within the apartment, blasting out some of the most creative trash-talk Rand has ever heard, punctuated by laughter and the muffled, tinny sound of trumpets and victory music. Mat himself zooms into the living room a moment later, still in yesterday’s pajamas, whooping and hollering and wearing the most shit-eating grin Rand has ever seen. His eyes are ringed in dark circles, but they’re bright with vindication, and as as he leaps onto the table—ignoring Perrin’s glare of protest—to scream his victory chant through the ceiling, Rand buries his face in his hands and thinks, I’m fucked.
.
Day Eight
Mat is so fucked.
So incredibly, inescapably, irreversibly fucked.
He’s fucked because he’s stuck inside his apartment for a month straight—’cause, seriously, Mat is a free spirit, he can’t be tied down like this!—and, worse, he’s stuck inside his apartment for a month straight with his best friend and the person he’s in love with—and Perrin, of course— and even worse than that he’s stuck inside his apartment for a month straight with the person he’s in love with and Rand won’t stop playing love songs on that damned flute!
Look, it’s one thing for Rand to play the flute. It’s one thing for him to sit on the windowsill with the midafternoon sun making his hair look like warm firelight, eyes half-lidded and smiling peacefully every time he pauses for breath. It’s one thing for him to look up at Mat as he plays, eyes bright and crinkled as if to say, look, look, I got the note right, aren’t you proud?
That’s all one thing. Something. It’s—something.
It’s another thing entirely for him to play almost exclusively love songs while doing all that. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. It’s like he knows about Mat’s stupid crush and quarantimes have got him so bored that he’s actively trying to torture Mat just for a few snatches of daily entertainment. But that, of course, can’t be true. Right? Right?
Oh, Light, it hasn’t even been a week and Mat is already losing his mind. This lockdown had better not last more than a month. It had been so easy to love Rand before the quarantine. Mat had had an arrangement with his heart. As long as they were outside of the apartment—which was most of the time—Mat could forget all about his crush. He could go to class, go to work, go to bars and flirt with pretty girls, and never have to spare a moment to think about Rand, save for the occasional errant thought. It was only in the apartment that he would be forced to confront his—ew—emotions. And in his dreams, of course—his heart held free reign over his dreams, but, well, in a situation like this, you took what you could get and didn’t complain.
Now, though, he spends every waking minute in the apartment, with Rand—with Rand and his soft hair and his gentle smiles and his pretty eyes and warm laugh and that Light-forsaken flute. It’s maddening.
“Mat?”
Speak of the Dark One and he shall appear—wearing a soft, puzzled smile and framed with a halo of dying sunlight, as it were.
“Mat, could you come over here a sec? I can’t tell if this note sounds right.”
Mat puts on a grin, resisting the urge to bang his head against the nearest wall, and walks over to the windowsill. “Sure, Rand. What song are you playing?”
Rand gives him a smile and an expression so innocent that it bypasses all trickery and circles right back to blood and ashes this man genuinely doesn’t know what he’s doing to me. Blandly, Rand says, “Purple Rain.”
Mat is so, so fucked.
.
Day Nine
Perrin has taken to birdwatching. He finds an online guide to city birds, mixes his own birdseed from what he finds in the kitchen, and starts laying it out along the windowsill in his bedroom. Hopefully he’ll get some visitors soon. In the meantime, he listens to bird calls on YouTube and starts trying to match the sounds to the birds he hears outside the apartment.
Quarantimes aren’t so bad, he supposes.
.
Day Thirteen
Rand knows from a good twenty-odd years of experience that Mat gets bored very easily, that he can’t sit still for a minute, that he could be locked up in an empty room with naught but his own mind and still find a hundred ways to get into trouble before noon. So he isn’t surprised when Mat, two weeks into the lockdown, decides to take up juggling.
What is surprising—although, knowing Mat, it probably shouldn’t be—is that, rather than making use of the many knicknacks, bits and bobs, and half-rotting apples lying around their apartment, Mat has chosen to begin his juggling career with knives.
Butter knives. But still.
Rand sits curled in a chair, unable to tear his eyes away, like he’s watching a car crash in slow motion, or one of those Buzzfeed compilations—pictures taken moments before disaster.
Perrin catches him watching and snorts. “You might try blinking once or twice.”
“He’s going to stab himself,” Rand murmurs, half in defense. “Someone needs to protect him from himself.”
“Sure,” Perrin says, already walking back to his room, carrying—something or other. Rand can’t bring himself to look away from Mat long enough to see what. “Sure, Rand. That’s why.”
Well, Rand thinks determinedly, that is why.
Sure, the way Mat’s standing, he’s backlit by the setting sun, and, sure, the look of pure focus on his face is unfamiliar and strangely alluring, and, alright, yeah, the way his hands move so deftly to catch each knife at the last second is thrilling and impressive—but the stabbing thing is the primary reason, obviously. Obviously.
This is fine.
.
Day Fourteen
Mat graduates from butter knives to steak knives.
This time, even Perrin can’t look away.
Rand is too busy having an aneurysm to feel vindicated.
.
Day Seventeen
Perrin has four regulars to his bird feed window now: a bluejay, two sparrows, and a crow. They come at different times of day, like they’ve organized some sort of schedule. It’s the kind of thing a bird would do, Perrin thinks. They’re very smart creatures.
He reads up on bird diets, and starts to differentiate their feed. He thinks they’ll appreciate that.
.
Day Nineteen
It’s three in the morning and Mat sits stone-still on the sofa, almost vibrating with nervous energy and the sheer effort it takes not to move. He should’ve known it was a mistake to have a Lord Of The Rings marathon with Rand “I can stay up all night, Mat, of course I can, what are you talking about?” al’Thor.
Onscreen, Sméagol is making his gradual and indescribably disturbing transition into Gollum, but Mat stopped watching a good forty-five minutes ago, when, right in the middle of the Ents’ takeover of Isengard, Rand had let out a soft yawn and fallen asleep. That would have been fine, but Rand, in a moment of pure slumberous treachery, had managed to lean into Mat, curling up against his side like a red retriever puppy. Now Mat can’t move, but he can’t even enjoy the movie, either, which—look, okay, Mat really does love Rand with his entire heart, such as it were, but this is the Lord of the Rings they’re talking about, and love comes and goes, but LOTR is forever.
The movie ends three hours later, the credits rising with the sun, and Mat remains motionless through it all—he hasn’t sat still for this long in his life.
An hour or so after sunrise, Rand finally stirs, and blinks confusedly up at Mat for a moment before rocketing away, face turned to the window. In a strange tone, he says, “Sorry about that.”
“No problem,” Mat forces out. He can see his reflection in the black screen of the TV. He looks like a damn raccoon. Mat is no stranger to staying up into the ungodly hours, but this was—quite different. Quite different.
Rand seems to hesitate a moment, putting his hands in his pockets and taking them out again. “Did you—sleep well?”
“Yep,” Mat says, popping the ‘p’, and promptly passes out.
.
Day Twenty-One
The birds have been absent for a few days, but the last time the crow came, she left Perrin a shiny clip and a broken pendant, so Perrin is sure she, at least, will come back in her own time.
In the meanwhile, he notices that two new spiders have taken up residence in his room—one next to his desk, and the other in a corner near the window. He names the window one Varys, and the desk one Claude. He knows less about spiders than he does about birds, but he likes to imagine that they like the names.
.
Day Twenty-Three
Mat and Rand start working on a puzzle.
It’s an old, dusty thing, a gift from someone back in Emond’s Field a long time ago, something they’ve both been meaning to work on for years but never gotten around to doing. It has one thousand small pieces and the scene is ridiculously complex—some sort of magical battle between two men in the sky, a golden dragon curling around the frame. It’s frustrating at times, or most of the time, really, but it’s nice, sitting in silence together, sorting pieces, the only sounds being low Lofi music playing on Rand’s laptop and the occasional huff of annoyance or short burst of triumphant laughter as something clicks.
They work on the puzzle for a solid twenty hours, and, as the moon drifts idly between the stars, Rand lifts the final piece, hand hovering over the empty space in the puzzle, and smiles.
“Well?” Mat prompts, looking tired but sounding eager.
Rand looks at him. “It’s the last piece. We should do it together.”
Mat blinks at him a moment, before a slow grin, easy spreads across his face. “Alright.”
It’s only when Mat leans over to place his hand over Rand’s that Rand realizes he hadn’t quite thought this through—but, in the night, with only the moon and a dim lamp lighting the room, it doesn’t seem to matter.
Sharing a grin, they lower their hands together, and the final piece clicks into place.
.
Day Twenty-Eight
“Think they’ll end the lockdown soon?”
Rand shrugs.
“It’s been almost a month,” Mat continues. It’s sunset and they’re sharing the living room windowsill, watching the orange light flicker across the black windows of all the shut-down shops on the street. “And it’s getting warmer.”
Rand shrugs again. “Who knows?”
Mat grins slightly. “WHO knows.”
“Original,” Rand deadpans, but he feels himself smile anyway, turning his gaze to Mat. Quietly, consideringly, he murmurs, “Well, would another month be so bad?” Mat looks at him in askance and Rand’s smile softens. “Lockdown isn’t great, but… it’s been kind of nice. Getting to spend more time together. Right?”
Mat blinks, and slowly smiles. “Right.” They stay like that a moment, just smiling, before Mat huffs a short laugh, ducking his head. “Light, Rand.”
“What?”
“You really have no idea, do you?”
“What?” Rand frowns. “No idea about what?”
Mat laughs again, shaking his head, looking back up at Rand with the strangest expression. “Nothing.”
There’s something in his expression, or his voice, or maybe the dusk light, that gives Rand a sudden flutter of cautious hope.
“Nothing,” he repeats softly. “Nothing.” He can feel himself leaning closer, and it might just be imagination, or wishful thinking, but it seems like Mat is leaning closer, too. He gets the question out without really hearing himself speak, the distance between them growing smaller with each whispered word. “Would nothing be… something like… this?”
The next few minutes pass in a daze, but, when they finally part, Rand is pretty sure he’s going to remember the grin Mat gives him for the rest of his life.
.
Day Thirty
The lockdown is extended another month.
Mat and Rand share a smile.
Perrin shuts the door on them and goes back to feeding his birds.
.
#wot#wot fic#wheel of time#the wheel of time#cauthor#rat#mat cauthon#rand al'thor#mat x rand#rand x mat#quarantine fic
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Good Mourning [KogKag]
Fandom:
InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Relationships:
Higurashi Kagome/Kouga
SUMMARY: After they destroyed Naraku and Kagome wished for the Shikon no Tama to disappear, it not only took the sorrow, pain and loss with it. But something Kagome thought was genuinely hers.
I HIGHLY SUGGEST FOR YOU TO READ IT IN AO3 AND/OR FF.NET (find it under the same name, or in my posts under #silvana writes : good mourning
IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO A TAG LIST, HIT MY ASK BOX!
CHAPTER 3
Just one more hit and then we're through
'Cause you could never love me back
Cut every tie I have to you
'Cause your love's a fucking drag
But I need it so bad
- 'Nicotine' Panic! At the Disco
Kouga gripped the edges of the make-shift rock table so hard it was threatening to break as soon as he entered the private den where he usually held his war-related meetings with his higher-ranked pack members.
He let out a raged, shaky breath, while his clawed fingers grinded over the rocky surface causing an unpleasant sound; all in order to keep himself from turning to dust the entire fucking mountain.
His whole body was tensed up, all muscles flexed so hard that if anyone touched him right now would've said he was made of solid iron. His lips twitched, fangs pocking out dangerously, threatening to let out a spine-chilling growl. His eyebrows, deep in a frown, as he closed his eyes tightly, hiding their now blood-red color. His nostrils flared, intoxicated in a scent he was not supposed to smell ever fucking again.
His eyes, haloed crimson, only snapped open when he heard his two idiotic 'second in command' entering the den, to then stand behind him as they fought nervous fidgets.
It took everything inside him not to rip them apart right there and then.
"I wonder if I haven't made myself clear enough before" He said, some words coming out in animalistic snarls, as he refused to turn to them still. If he turned before calming his youkai down, he'll rip them apart before at least hearing what could've possessed them to do what they did; and calming down was proving to be a difficult task right now, with her scent, her aura, her everything taking over him like some goddamn poison.
"K-Kouga w-we can expla-" Ginta started to say, as his voice trembled in fear.
Koga didn't even give him a chance to finish the sentence.
"Yeah, you fucking better!" He shouted, youkai voice interlacing with his, as the rock table snapped in two.
The two of them nearly jumped out of their skin when Kouga turned to face them.
"I wanna know what in hell possessed you two, to decide it was great idea to go against a direct order of mine" He snarled, but felt himself calm down just enough so his youkai was tamed down. "Every fucking wolf in here was ordered to never, under any circumstances, let her step a foot on the mountain. So, help me understand how you two that knew exactly what went down, out of every single demon, brought her here?!"
"W-We didn't want to, I swear!" Hakkaku stuttered out. "We told her that we were ordered not to let her in the mountain, but she refused to listen!"
"Y-Yeah, she basically black-mailed us!" Ginta agreed quickly.
"What?" Kouga spat out, not really as a question but more in disbelief at how much stupidity was coming out of his betas' mouths.
"W-We explained her the situation, a-and told her to go home, told her it was for the best-" Hakkaku started.
"A-And told her how dangerous it was for her to be in the woods at the moment!" Ginta added.
"And we told her we weren't allowed to take her to the mountains so w-we were just gonna escort her out of the woods" Hakkaku continued.
"A-And then she was like 'Pity, I'm not going anywhere'" Ginta said, trying to imitate Kagome's voice in a high pitch tone.
"Y-Yeah! And then she was like 'And if you're not going to help me, I'll get to the mountains on my own. I'm not going home until I talk to Kouga'" Hakkaku said then, now also imitating Kagome's voice.
"And you know how stupid that was gonna be! The woods packed with northerns and westerns, and the eating humans' treaty! Kami, she was already wounded as well"
Kouga's youkai flared at this, and he wanted to punch it for it.
Of course he knew she was wounded. It was one of the reasons he turned back to the mountains, fast as lighting, a few minutes after he felt her presence near his home while he was miles away from it.
Kouga was not only a wolf demon, but an alpha at that. His senses excelled almost every demon's alive, and also excelled all of his pack member's senses by far. He could hear, smell and sense everything that was miles away from him. On top of that, Kagome was his-
He started to sense her just as soon as she was a few miles away from her village.
He was far away at that moment, nearing the Southern Lands when he first felt her.
He found it odd, but his mind soon figured that maybe she was traveling somewhere. His lands, while considerably far away, surrounded her village somewhat. So, she would've had to cross them if she wanted to travel pretty much anywhere.
The fact that it was the first time ever she moved from that village was nagging him, but he ignored it.
He needed to triple check that the Southern tribe was still set on not partaking on the war. They were having enough on their plates as it was. While the Eastern tribe still outnumbered the Northern and Western tribes combined (just one of the several reasons there was a war in the first place) and his men were undoubtedly stronger and smarter than their opponents, he wasn't sure if they would be able to handle another tribe joining the opposite side, no matter how superior they were in numbers or battling skills.
He knew that the leaders of the North tribe were going to try to lure the South to join them. So, he had to make sure that the Southern alpha was still set on his first decision; and if he was not, Kouga would enjoyed to help him stay put.
That's why he didn't stop nor turned around when he felt her. After all, only one of his many forests was the one with that 'treaty' he made.
'Every nearby village knows what's going on' he remembered thinking. 'I'm certain hers' knows too, and if they don't, villagers on her way will warn her' was another thought that crossed his mind at that time 'She's not stupid'.
Though, something that was nagging his mind just a bit was the fact that she was almost alone. He could feel the neko-demon with her, but no one else. No mutt.
He briefly wondered if it was because InuYasha was a hanyou, that's why he was having trouble sensing him, and her other travel companions were human. Sure, she was human as well, but she was… she was Kagome, of course he'd feel her.
What he needed to do regarding the Southern tribe was extremely important, and could not wait. He was in charge of a numerous pack facing a war right now. He was an alpha, he couldn't turn back on his tribe, much less for her, out of all beings in the universe.
Not to mention, he truly didn't want to see her to begin with.
So, he continued to run his 'errands' while unconsciously keeping tabs of her movements.
He was done dealing with the Southern alpha when his heart nearly skipped a beat.
She was nearing the edge of the forest.
Why on hell she was nearing the edge of the forest.
Without so much a word, and as soon as he ruthlessly forced the South to stay out of his way, he bolted towards his lands.
Moments later, when she was already undoubtedly flying across the forest, she was wounded, badly.
With now crimson eyes, and growling through sharp-mortal fangs, he picked up his pace.
He mentally thanked whatever god or devil was around when Ginta and Hakkaku found her and saved her.
He allowed himself to calm down once he stopped smelling blood pouring out of her.
Still, he was angry at himself. Sure, he could feel bad if anything ever happened to her, but the way he reacted? Desperation, madness, rage consuming him in his entirety, his youkai almost taking completely over after centuries of being in complete control over it.
This tiny woman always sent him over the edge.
He reflected that no matter how much distance was between them, how many years they spent without even catching a glimpse of the other, he would always react this way when it came to her. After all, it was natural, quite literally. She was his, regardless of whatever she tried to convince herself. He was hers, she would never be able to be indifferent when it came to him, no matter how hard she tried.
She would always be his, she would always feel like a part of him.
So, he would always lose the reigns when it came to her, no matter how badly he didn't wanna see her ever again.
Still, he could not fit in his own and utter shock when he realized that not only she was indeed going for his den, but that fucking Ginta and Hakkaku were escorting her.
Just when he thought they'd matured at last.
"W-What would you have us do in his situation?" Ginta asked, bringing Kouga back to the present issue.
"I would've you take her back to where she came from, dragging her by the feet if fucking needed!" Kouga growled out, making them both jump back. "You should've escorted her back to her damned village by force if she refused, I don't give a fuck; place her on the mutt's arms with a bow on top, and tell him to put a freaking leash on her if necessary to keep this from happening ever again!"
"Kouga you know her better than we do! She would've tried again! You know how she is, sis would never-" If looks could kill, Hakkaku would've dropped dead on the spot. "KAGOME! I mean Kagome" He corrected himself instantly.
One of the other explicit, direct orders from Kouga was to never, ever call her sister again.
"You do know that there's a hundred demons outside waiting for me to execute you?" Kouga said through a clenched jaw.
Hell, while he didn't want to kill them, because they were Ginta and Hakkaku after all, he did want to hurt them, really, really bad.
Hakkaku gulped down in fear and Ginta sighed.
"We know" Ginta said looking down at the floor. "And we understand and accept if you do" Kouga raised an eyebrow at this.
"We do?" Hakkaku squeaked out, looking at his best friend in disbelief.
"Yes" Ginta said, without a single hesitation. "At least I do" Kouga blinked in surprise at this. "I don't regret what I did" Kouga clenched his jaw "I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if she died when I could've protected her" Ginta continued, and it took everything inside Kouga not to react to the statement "I mean… She's Kagome" He added, and Kouga knew he meant 'she's sister'. "So, yeah… I'm good with whatever punishment you see fit, Alpha Kouga"
Kouga didn't know how he managed not to flinch at that. Everyone in the pack called him that, except these two. So, it only meant one thing. Whatever Ginta was saying was 100% serious.
"Y-Yeah, me too!" Hakkaku said after a moment.
Kouga sighed and tried not to give any other sort of reaction.
He couldn't blame them for the way they were acting. Wolf demons were extremely familiar beings, they depended on each member of the pack, just like each member of the pack depended on them. Kagome was his intended mate, their Alpha's intended mate. It's no surprise that they would've tried to protect her. But, it wasn't only that. Ginta and Hakkaku were Kagome's friends, too, unlike the rest of the pack.
Not a single pack member would dare go against an Alpha's direct order. Not only because there're definitely less painful ways to die, but because it was also a sign of disrespect towards the pack, too.
But, Ginta and Hakkaku would, because Kagome (at least once upon a time) was their friend.
It'll almost felt unfair to blame them. But, they had to be punished, anyone else would've dealt with his ruthless fury, he couldn't just skip past them completely.
So the question was, what to do now?
"You need to get rid of her" Kouga finally said, earning a dumbfounded look from both of them. "And you'll loose your privileges until I feel you can be trusted again" He added, frowning at them while showing fangs to let them know he was being serious. "Go, now" He said. "I don't want to see her when I get out of here"
"Kouga there's something else, though…" Ginta said, and as if he was reading his mind, Hakkaku turned to him with a concerned glance as well.
Kouga said nothing, tired of discussing and negotiating with this two. They should've just shut their mouths and run towards the village with Kagome in hand while thanking Kami he had mercy on them by now. So, he just waiting for him to continue.
"There's not a single trace of InuYasha on her"
X
It was funny.
It was funny how she was almost atop of a mountain right now, yet she felt the Earth swallowing to the very center.
Kirara, still on her smaller form, was growling consistently while each hair on her pelt was up… but, that didn't stop anyone from looking at her.
As soon as Ginta and Hakkaku disappeared from her sight, tailing a raging Kouga, each and every single pair of eyes (at least the alive ones) turned to her, accusingly.
At first, she pointedly ignored every of them.
Her eyes went down to the ground, as she tried to focus on petting Kirara as best as she could.
It worked well at first, but now? It was impossible to ignore the comments that were being whispered all around her.
"How dare she come back after rejecting him like that?!"
"And for a disgusting hanyou, no less!"
"Great timing, too! In the middle of the war no less, as if Kouga wasn't stressed enough as it is!"
"He better not take her back, after she disrespected him like that!"
"I agree, showing up here when she pleases, the nerve!"
"Kouga deserves so much better"
"Most of the females are prettier than her, too…"
"Maybe that mutt kicked her out, that's why she's here with her tail between her legs!"
"Don't be stupid, it's because of the bond! It was only a matter of time…"
"Still, he shouldn't take her back"
"Why would he? He has enough female attention here…"
Kagome felt like she sunk down half her size, and tears were pricking the corners of her eyes.
They were right, for the most part. Except for the part where they implied that she rejected him knowing the truth, which she didn't. She knows she should've given him the benefit of the doubt, but how could she know?
'He has enough female attention here'
That broke Kagome's heart in a trillion pieces. Sure, she knew better than to expect Kouga to be mate-less and just loyal to a woman who has rejected him, told him she never wanted to see him again, and disappeared for three years. Still, that didn't mean it didn't hurt like a truck from back home was running over her heart over and over.
She tried to calm herself down, and remember Sango's advice.
She wasn't here to be with him, at least that wasn't the most important thing.
She was here to apologize. To accept her mistake, beg for forgiveness, and hope Kouga could at least take her back as a friend.
Still, it appeared that some part of her held to the hope of him still being in love with her.
That part of her was having the butt-kick of it's life.
What made her more angry, though, was the fact that these demons were probably reading her like an open book. Smelling each and every emotion their comments were causing on her.
"And to think poor Ginta and Hakkaku have to pay the price of this"
"I know… Kouga's probably gonna hold their execution this evening"
That made her head snap up.
Execution?!
She knew they were in trouble, big trouble, but definitely not that kind of trouble!
Ginta and Hakkaku were Kouga's best friends, for crying out loud! Surely he wouldn't!
In the midst of panic, Kagome was still able to focus for a moment and search for Kouga's aura. It took her almost a millisecond, it was impossible for her not to feel him, anyways. Not with him being close to her.
Without sparing so much a glance to the wolf demons looking at her, she started to walk towards where she felt him, as wolf demons got out of her way, too shocked to even stop her.
She followed the feeling towards a tunnel and after a while, still gripping Kirara on her arms, she came face to face with an entrance to a smaller den.
Guarded by two wolf demons.
"Eh! What are you doing here?!" One of them instantly exclaimed at the sight of her.
"This tunnel is off-limits! Only the ones that were explicitly called by Alpha Kouga can be here!" The other one added.
"Let me in, I need to speak to him" Kagome said, unintimidated by the two bulky wolf demons.
"Haven't you heard us, lil human? You're not supposed to be here!" The first one exclaimed pointedly stepping in front of the entrance, blocking her way.
"I won't ask again. I need to speak to him, now!" Kagome said unwavering.
"Now listen here you little bit-"
It happened way faster than any of them could've expected. A shot of lilac beaming reiki shot from her hand and towards them. It was in no way something that could've harmed them gravely, just superficial. Something to simply leave them unconscious for a little while.
She expected them to understand the urgency in her tone of voice, but it became clearer and clearer with each passing second that whatever was going on between wolf demons, something that they would never do was disobey their Alpha, under any circumstances.
After looking down at the unconscious demons on the ground, checking for anything out of what she expected, she turned to the entrance and without a second thought, running the fur that was serving as a door/curtain.
The den was even further away from what she anticipated, not just at the other side of the 'curtain'. She had to walk a shorter tunnel once again, before finally entering a small, fire-lit den.
The three people in there instantly turned to her.
Her heart leaped to her throat once her chocolate brown eyes connected with icy blue ones.
"Kouga" She whispered under her breath again, much like a few moments ago, when she first saw him.
And, just like when he first saw her, he turned to Ginta and Hakkaku with a deep frown.
"Take her back to her village, now" He growled at both of them, making Kagome shiver at both: the sound of his voice for the first time in years and the danger in his growl.
Ginta opened his mouth, as if to object, but he didn't have the chance to let out a sound.
"Ginta, Kami help me, if a single sound comes out of your goddamn mouth, I'll rip you apart right here, right now." Kouga growled again, making Ginta snap his mouth shut instantly.
"No!" Kagome exclaimed as soon as Kouga's threat was out. "You can't murder them!" Kouga turned to her again, looking rather confused this time. "I heard about the execution! You can't kill them!"
"What?!" He exclaimed nearly bewildered. It was the first word he directly spoke to her. 'What'.
"It was me! I blackmailed them. I know they disobeyed your orders, but I put them both in an impossible position. It's not their fault! You can't kill them because of me!" Kagome was nearly babbling now, tears running from the corners of her eyes. "They were just trying to help me! I knew they wouldn't let me go on my own because they're both so kind hearted! And I took advantage of it! It was me! Please don't kill them, they're your best friends, you cannot kill them!"
"No one's getting killed!" Kouga finally exclaimed in exasperation.
Kagome stopped abruptly.
"What? There won't be an execution?" Kagome asked.
"No si-Kagome" Hakkaku said "Kouga decided for another punishment. We appreciate your concern, tho-"
"Alright, that's enough. Take her to her village now before I change my mind" Kouga said, and started to walk towards one of the edges of the den, where another rock- makeshift table was and Kagome watched as Ginta and Hakkaku walked towards her with sympathetic look on their faces.
She instantly took a step back from them.
"Wait-No!" She said, bringing Kirara even closer to her as she stepped back. "I told them I'm not going anywhere until we talk!" She said, turning to Kouga that was now a few meters away from her.
She literally saw how all his muscles stiffened in tension and how his aura grew in anger.
Kagome gulped down, as she also bit her lips. She knew she was pressing her luck and probably shouldn't be speaking at him like this, all things considered. But, what else what she supposed to do to make him listen?
It was crystal clear that he did not want her here.
"Oh, you told them?" Kouga scoffed back instantly in a sarcastic manner, making Kagome regret instantly the way she spoke the words. "So, of course, you expect them to do as you say, over their orders, my orders"
"I didn't mean it like that-" Kagome said with a small voice, glancing at the ground once again, but Kouga quickly interrupted her.
"Seriously, though, Kagome" Kouga then asked, and Kagome turned her eyes on him once again. He was looking straight at her this time, eyes piercing hers, unwavering. "What the fuck are you even doing here?"
The sound of her name coming out of his lips after so long sent hot jolts all over her body, yet question and the harshness of it crushed Kagome's heart, but she didn't blame him for asking that nor for being angry. Who wouldn't?
"I'm here to talk" She said once again.
"Talk about what, exactly?" He scoffed and took a few steps towards her but still maintained a considerable distance between them. "There's absolutely nothing to talk about, Kagome. It's been three fucking years, for Kami's sake!" He nearly roared, making Kagome flinch. "What on hell makes you think that I'll sit down and chat with you after all this fucking time?!" Kagome opened her mouth to talk, but he stepped even closer to her, and interrupted her before she could say anything. "And in the middle of the fucking war, no less! Like I actually have the time for more shit!"
"I didn't know you were at war!" Kagome finally roared back. "I only knew when Ginta and Hakkaku told me after they found me!"
"And yet you still decided to put up your little stunt and force them to bring you here instead of turning around and going back home!" Kouga raged on. "Ya know, you should be grateful it was them the ones to find you and bring you here. Because if it were any of my other pack members they would be fucking dead already!"
"I'm sorry, alright?! I know I shouldn't be inconveniencing you right now, but I couldn't wait any longer!" She defended herself.
"And just how much did you wait, Kagome? A year? A month? Or was it just a few days ago that the mutt finally got tired of you so you decided to settle for the next best as soon as you could?!" Kouga growled out.
"It's not like that, Kouga, and you know it!" Kagome said, now actually feeling offended. Yes, she knew that once upon a time (without knowing any better) she chose InuYasha over Kouga but it was because she didn't know the truth back then and she knew Kouga knows that! Besides, implying that she simply just moved on to the next plate once she had her fill of the first one, was an insult.
"I don't care, Kagome! I, sincerely, don't give a fuck!" Kouga said with such an angered force that made everyone in the room flinch and step back. "This is not your place." He said then. "You shouldn't be here. You should be at home with your mate or your family or whoever the fuck is there, and you should go back there right now" he said with finality. "Take her home" He turned to the two frightened wolf demons that were looking at both of them in terrified shock and turned his back to her again as he moved towards the edge of the den once more.
The two of them, with cautious movements, started walking towards Kagome.
"No" She said, and snatched back the arm that Ginta tried to grab. "I refuse to go anywhere until we talk!" She loudly declared again, frowning and watching as Kouga turned to her once again.
"Then they'll drag you there, I don't care" He said and pretended to shrug her off.
"Then I'll come back" Kagome said challengingly, frown deep on her face as she advanced towards him. "And again, and again, and again! No matter how many times you have them push me away, I will return! And if I have to purify every single one of your wolves to get you to talk to me, I will!"
Kouga eyed her, head to toe, without giving away any emotion for her to read, before he turned to his packmates again.
"Are you to deaf or something?" He simply said, and Kagome watched from the corner of her eye how both of them trembled but advanced nervously towards her again.
"Ginta, Hakkaku, I swear to god, if you lay a single claw on me I'll knock you both unconscious" She said threateningly and shot a spark of her reiki for good measure, making both of them instantly retract from her.
"B-Boss?" Hakkaku stuttered, as both of them looked towards their Alpha, unsure of what to do.
Kouga didn't even glance at them, his icy blue eyes still on Kagome, surveying her, observing her, with that very same aura he had when she first saw him. His body tensed up, eyes sharp… just as if he was about to be attacked, as if he was about fight.
Kagome knew that he wouldn't dare touch her right now, not like she would ever hurt him, but still. He also wouldn't let his packmates suffer a potential purification just to get her out of her mountains.
She also knew, that this was because Kouga didn't know the extend of her powers now. Back when he knew the extend of them, she could only summon them when using a bow and arrow.
This was unknown territory, and wolves weren't anything but cautious and protective of their pack members. He wouldn't risk it… but she also didn't want to corner him like this.
He was mad, and rightfully so. He wanted her out of his home, also rightfully so, since she came here uninvited. Plus, not only she was cornering him right now, but also challenging his power, his position as Alpha… in his home, in front of his packmates.
Still, she needed to talk to him and she refused to spend another day away from him without explaining herself.
They needed to meet at a middle point, though.
"I'm sorry, Kouga" She said at first, but he didn't even flinch. Attack mode still on. "I know you don't want to talk to me or listen to me or even have me near you right now" She said. "And you're absolutely right to feel that way. It's not fair for me to force you to talk right now, I don't wanna force you if you don't want to" It was only then when Kouga blinked at her, probably believing she was gonna accept and turn back to where she came from. "But I can't go back. I can't stay away from you without me saying what I need to say. Without you listening to me" She continued, her voice wavering while her eyes got teary. "I will stay here" She stated, watching as Kouga clenched his jaw at this. "I will stay here, waiting as long as I have to. Weeks, months, years, whatever. I'll wait here until you're ready to hear me talk." Kouga frowned even deeper to her now, and she felt Ginta and Hakkaku's eyes looking at her disbelievingly. "I won't bother you, I promise. I'll help you, help with the war. I'll earn my keep, or whatever you need. But, I can't go back. I can't go back, I'm sorry"
She didn't know if Kouga understood what she was saying or not. She didn't know if he understood the real necessity she had to stay -to stay with him- at least until they talked.
However, she did know that he understood the fact that she was going to fight -and most likely win- if they tried to remove her from this mountains.
It felt like time was passing agonizingly slow as she waited for a reaction coming from him, but Kouga didn't even flinch for the longest time, until he turned to his betas once again.
"She's your problem" He said at first "You'll deal with her. You'll find her something to do, where she'll be staying, what she'll be eating" Kagome couldn't help but feel completely bothersome and unwanted. The scene looked like a father talking to his children about a stray puppy he didn't want. "I don't want to be bothered by this not even once." He said the last part looking pointedly at her, to then turn to his betas once again. "I trust I'm being crystal clear this time" He finally said, nearly growling at the end.
"Y-Yes, Kouga!" Ginta and Hakkaku stuttered out.
One last menacing look was all it took for them to start to dragging Kagome out of the den they were currently in. Here only choice being to accept being dragged by them while looking at Kouga until they finally left the den.
The look Kouga gave her as she exited the den was one she never in a million years expected to ever get from him, and one she prayed she never have to see again being directed at her.
She swallowed the need to cry and she directed her focus at both wolf demons walking her through the maze of dens.
She wondered how anyone could find their way in this mountains.
'Scent, for starters. Plus, they lived here their entire lives, probably.' her mind instantly supplied, as she started to get nervous as to how she was supposed to survive in here in the first place if she couldn't even find her way through the tunnels. Sure, she could find her way to Kouga, just as easily as she could breathe. His aura so present and intense, constantly luring her towards it now that they were so close. But, she figured that Kouga would rather have his eyes clawed out than having her near, at least at the moment. He needed time and she understood, so keeping out of his way for now was for the best.
Ginta and Hakkaku stopped suddenly, in front of another door/curtain fur pelt hanging in front of what seemed a small den.
"Here, this should suffice" Ginta said, moving the pelt out of the way for them to go in.
When the three of them were inside the pitch black den, Kagome felt Hakkaku move towards one of the edges, and she hear her grab what she thought were rocks, before hearing how he friction them to create fire, and then light a large wax candle that was sitting in a carved hole in the right wall of the den.
The small place light up instantly, warm orange light washing over it.
Kagome instantly turned to observe the room they where in. It was small, just like she thought when she was at the entrance, maybe even a bit smaller than her room back home and definitely smaller than the hut she had back in Kaede's village.
She could see there were two more carved wholes with candles, one in the left cavern wall and once behind the makeshift bed (considerably large for the room, actually) made of a base of straws and topped with a thin fur pelt that she couldn't identify from what it was made. A tiny make-shift rock table besides the bed, some leftover-burnt out firewood in a corner that she supposed was a spot for a fireplace during winter, and that was pretty much it.
Not that she complained at all, it was actually a lot more than she expected.
"Didn't wolves sleep in packs?" Her thoughts came out of her mouth.
They both look at her a little bit surprised, probably not expecting such knowledge.
"Unmated wolves sleep together" Hakkaku clarified "There are two larger dens, for unmated males and females"
"Yeah, when a couple mates, though, we have several of these smaller dens available for them" Ginta added.
"Oh!" Kagome said, kind of embarrassed. "You shouldn't be giving this to me, then! I can sleep with the rest of the unmated girls!" Kagome assured.
Even if she would definitely be nervous and uncomfortable sleeping with a bunch of stranger girls that surely hated her, she didn't want to take any advantage of anything in any way that might bother Kouga.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Ginta quickly assured with an easy smile. "You'll be much comfortable here! Plus, much safer as well!"
Kagome's eyes widened at the last statement. What the heck does that meant? Was she in actual danger in here? Could some of Kouga's wolves actually hurt her? She knew that they were angry at her and what she did, but Kouga was letting her stay here. Surely they wouldn't attack her, right?
Hakkaku, instantly noting the look in her eyes, elbowed Ginta.
"It's not what you're thinking!" He was quick to say. "He meant because of the war. Things are really rushed this days, and while some of the females help with the injured and with the den, there are some that go to fight, too. You wouldn't be able to rest properly there. Also, this den is much, much deeper in the mountain than the ones for the unmated, because normally mated couples also have their cubs with them, so unmated wolves can protect them if there's an attack or something"
Kagome nodded in understanding at his explanation. It made sense. Still…
"I still don't want to use a potential couple's den just because!" She explained. They both laughed quietly at this.
"There won't be any potential couples anytime soon, with the war going on and stuff. Newly mated couples are real unstable, no one won't risk it right now" Hakkaku said. "Plus, we have so many of this smaller dens, we're always building more of them"
"Yeah, don't worry, sis!" Ginta said with a warm smile, and it took him about to seconds to realize what he said. "I mean Kagome!"
Kagome smiled at him, half softened by the fact that the 'nickname' just came out of him so easily, and half saddened at how he was always correcting himself after using it.
Ginta noticed her smile, and couldn't help but smile a bit sadly as well.
"Old habits die hard, I guess" He said. Kagome only smiled wider.
"You don't have to stop calling me sister, you know" She said, pleading in her mind.
Both wolf demons shared a look, to then turn to her defeated.
"It's not really our choice" Hakkaku said, without needing to explain any further.
Kagome felt something pierce through her heart for the millionth time in the day. Part of her wanted to know everything Kouga has ordered his wolves to do or not to do in regards of her, but it'd only help in hurting her even more. So, she decided to change the subject instead.
She briefly wondered if she was wasting their time or not, but quickly chose to ignore that wonder. It's been three years and a hell of a day, a little catch up wouldn't hurt them that much, right?
"So" Kagome said. "There's a war going on… for three years"
"Yeah, demon wars usually don't last very long. We thought it would be over in a year or so but then the Western tribe decided to join in just when we were about to win, so…" Ginta said.
"It's it okay if I ask why is there a wolf demon war in the first place?" Kagome asked.
"Yeah, yeah. There's no problem. I mean, now that you will be staying here and stuff I don't see one at least" Hakkaku shrugged. "There's no 'a' reason, I guess. I mean, it definitely has to do with Kouga's ruling over the Eastern tribe, but there are several complaints you can say"
"Complaints?" Kagome asked a little bit perplexed. Sure, she never gave too much thought into Kouga's rule over his tribe, at least not into the details. But, she always thought he was an exceptional leader, even back when she first met him. It was just the way his people looked up to him. There was so much admiration and even devotion in his pack's eyes. Also the fact like he was so young (she didn't acknowledge this back then, but know she learned how to read demon's ages). To be such a young demon and have such numerous and not to mention devoted followers it surely meant something.
"Yeah, Kouga was getting too powerful in the eyes of certain wolf tribes" Ginta explained.
'Ah' that made much more sense.
"We grew so much in numbers in such a short amount of time once we defeated Naraku, they got scared. Even more so because in some other regions fertility is definitely not the same." Hakkaku added.
"Yeah, also the fact that Kouga started training us scared them. They wondered if it was because we wanted to overtake them, but it just was because Kouga suffered a lot when so many of our packmates got killed by Naraku, he just didn't want to go through the same thing ever again" Ginta said.
"And also the fact that he's so young, gaining all this power" Hakkaku added.
"Yeah, I suppose I'd be jealous too" Kagome said, earning a light chuckle from both of them. "You said that the Western tribe decided to join later… So, it was the Northern one that declared war first?"
They both seemed to get suspiciously nervous at that question.
Kagome eyed them carefully.
"Uh… yeah, they did" Ginta said, rubbing the back of his head rather nervously.
"Why, though? I mean, I guess they were worried about your growing power but why don't just settle for a treaty or something? Or make sure you weren't trying to overtake them before attacking?" Kagome pressed on. There was something going on here, but she just couldn't figure out what. She doubted Kouga was indeed trying to overtake every other tribe, and she also doubted he wasn't open for treaties or agreements.
"Well… we kinda uhm-" Hakkaku tried to say.
"Offended them?" Ginta supplied.
"Offended them?" Kagome parroted. "How so?"
"Well, uh… remember how I told you there were in fact several complaints about Kouga's Alpha position?" Ginta said and Kagome just nodded. "Well, it's very unheard of and unusual for an Alpha to be leading so many years without a uhm… mate"
Kagome blushed crimson at this. 'Oh, my god, please no'
It was already a big fucking deal that she rejected him and every single soul of his pack seemed to know and take offence at it, but the fact that a war (a freaking war!) might have happened because of it?!
She closed her eyes and tried to avoid hearing the inevitable truth.
"So, when he couldn't well…. Have you" Hakkaku said.
"The Northern Alpha offered his granddaughter to be Kouga's mate and the Eastern tribe's Alpha female, and Kouga obviously rejected her" Ginta continued explaining.
"Duh" Hakkaku said.
"So, of course, the rejection was taken as a great offence by the Northern tribe. I mean, it was the very best the North could offer, after all. She's gorgeous, and strong, not to mention the granddaughter of an Alpha" Ginta continued as he cited all these good qualities this girl had, making Kagome feel a sour taste in her mouth. "And she also wanted to be with Kouga…"
Kagome couldn't help but frown, and that only added to her surprise.
It's been so long since she has felt pure, raw jealousy… and a jealousy that was her own. Fiery, raged, hot.
She was caught up in the feeling for a moment… until she realized something.
"Wait a minute" She said. "Pretty, strong girl from the North who's grandfather is an Alpha" She cited, the truth dawning down on her. "You can't be talking about…" She trailed off.
"Ayame" Hakkaku finished for her.
It was as if she summoned the iciest water from far North to then wash over her like a bucket of cold water.
How?
It felt as if she just remembered something long forgotten.
She suddenly remembered the wolf demoness existence.
How could she ever have forgotten her?
She was honestly amazed.
All these years dealing with nothing but wolf demon ghosts and she forgotten a very important one… and while she was still surprised about that fact, her curiosity about something else quickly overtook her.
"Why did he reject her?" she asked, and the question seemed to boom throughout every single inch of the dens.
Both demons in front of her looked at her like she was just insane.
"I mean" Kagome quickly said, trying to explain herself better "After everything…" She continued, trusting they would understand what she meant without needing much explanation "Why not Ayame?" She truthfully wondered. "I mean, she's just like you said… Gorgeous, strong, perfect to lead by his side" She cited, feeling jealousy grow within her again. "Why not take her as a mate?"
"What do you mean why?" Ginta asked half chuckling, wondering if it was a legit question. "He can't"
"He can't because he doesn't like her…?" Kagome questioned again, not really getting what was so obvious about the question. "Or because he doesn't want a treaty with the North tribe-" Hakkaku interrupted her before she even had a chance to finish.
"No, because he literally can't" Hakkaku said looking at her rather startled.
"What do you mean he literally can't?" Kagome was starting to get a little irritated at them. They were looking at her like she was stupid or living after a rock till yesterday.
"Wolves can't mate with someone else other than their intended" Ginta finally said, as if it was so obvious "That's unless their intended mate dies"
Kagome was shook to her core.
She knew some of demon mating ways, and also some of demon law and stuff. Mostly because Sango taught her throughout this years and because not only she was a priestess, but a miko, so she had to know.
She never heard something like this, though… and considering the fact that her 'mate' was currently with another it just didn't make any sense.
"So, that means that…" Kagome trailed off in a whisper, still shook.
"Kouga can't mate anyone but you" Hakkaku said. "At least until you, you know… die"
"How come you didn't know this?" Ginta asked. "I mean, I know you're human and stuff… but you're mated to a hanyou, right?"
Kagome flinched at that, but didn't respond.
"Also you have that demon slayer friend… I'm sure she knows this stuff!" Hakkaku added.
"I- She did, but-" Kagome stuttered out. "I'm pretty sure it's not like that!" She said a little louder than intended, nearly shouting. They didn't seem to notice it, though.
"What do you mean?" Ginta asked.
"I know for a fact that demons can take another mate" She simply said, jaw tensed.
"Well, yeah, of course! Demons can, but wolves? Never!" Hakkaku said, again as if it was just obvious.
"Wolves mate for life!" Ginta added, and Kagome felt a shiver run all over her body, remembering one of the first things Kouga said to her when they met. When he claimed her his woman.
The warmth that spread inside her turned sour soon, when another thought crossed her mind.
"So, basically, Kouga's waiting for me to die to take another mate?" She said icily.
Both of them looked at her completely horrified.
"N-No! That's not it at all, sis!" Ginta exclaimed, too horrified to notice the slip up of the nickname.
"It's not like it's a death sentence or something! Or like he's being forced to love you or to be with you!" Hakkaku exclaimed as well.
"He wants you. Just you. He can't possibly want any other woman while you're around" Ginta continued, making Kagome blush.
"When a wolf finds their intended mate, they're all they see" Hakkaku added.
"I mean, they can be intimate with someone else if they're not mated yet. But, regarding romantic feelings and mating? It's just impossible." Ginta said.
"Whether Ayame is attractive or not or perfect for him, Kouga could just never mate her" Hakkaku said. "It's almost as if the sole idea of mating someone other than your intended is repulsive"
"That's why wolf demons, while territorial, are not really jealous around their own kind regarding their mates" Ginta said. "Once you're already mated or in courtship process, affairs and such are just unheard of. We might be possessive when they're other demons around but between our kind? Never"
"And normally, once you find your intended mate the courtship process instantly begins" Hakkaku added.
"Look, I don't wanna sound unsensitive or anythin' but… while Kouga might have sex with other females right now, it's pretty much out of male needs" Ginta said, looking half regretful about letting her know that. Kagome just looked at the ground at the revelation. "He could never even consider any romantic involvement with anyone else. The feeling you have towards your intended mate is just incomparable to anything else you could even imagine"
Kagome stayed silent for a few moments, and they just waited for her to digest everything they said as they turned on the rest of the candles in the room.
It was unbelievable, in part. She would have never guessed.
Kouga could just never love anyone else, or even consider anyone else while she was around.
It was probably why he also was so angry at her right now. Not only she rejected him, but she quite literally felt him tied handed. There was just no other choice for him, not second chances or 'more fish in the sea' as the modern saying says.
It must have been horribly tortuous for him… The thought of never being able to be with anyone else at least for several decades (she hoped).
Then, another thought crossed her mind, making her instantly frown in confusion.
"Wait" She said, making both wolf demons turn to her again. "You said wolf demons can only mate or have romantic feelings towards their intended mate" She started, and they both nodded for her to continue "So, is Ayame's intended dead or something? How come she loves Kouga when she's clearly not his intended" She couldn't help but say 'clearly' with a little more emphasis than the rest of the words.
"Well, not exactly" Hakkaku said "Ayame's intended is indeed alive. He's the one in charge of the Northern armies"
"And she still loves Kouga?" Kagome asked but neither of them replied, and that was the only answer she needed. "How?"
Ginta sighed as he rubbed the back of his head again, looking a bit frustrated and struggling with his thoughts.
"Well, Ayame's situation is a bit weird" Ginta started "We think she's just in denial… and we blame Kouga for this as well"
"What do you mean?" Kagome asked.
"Well, Ayame was just so young, even for a demon, when Kouga made that stupid promise to her" Ginta explained. "He told us he made that promise expecting for her not only to forget it, but to understand the wolf demon mating process once she grew up" He excused his Alpha "Of course, you probably already know that didn't happen…"
"We think it's because she basically grew thinking about that stupid promise" Hakkaku cleared out.
"We also think that once she actually gives in at least just a bit into her intended mate, she'll realize there's simply no way she and Kouga could ever be together" Ginta added. "She's so obviously trying to maintain her distance from her intended, because deep down she knows"
"In other words: she's being a spoiled brat" Hakkaku simply said and Kagome mentally grinned at this.
"Still" Ginta said "Another thing that's keeping Ayame so insistent in this is that Kouga's case is a little bit unusual as well"
"What does that mean?" Kagome asked him.
"Well, while is not completely unheard of that a wolf demon's intended is human. It happened before, but just a couple of times and probably millenniums ago. But, it's still pretty unusual" Ginta explained. "Not to mention that it's an Alpha we're talking about… and the youngest and strongest one ever heard of"
"Not only that but, the fact that he was uhm- rejected" Hakkaku added.
"Most of the northerns think that, given the circumstances of both, Kouga's and Ayame's situation, it could be possible for them to mate" Ginta finally finished.
"… I see" Kagome said, finally seeing the bigger picture, and finally understanding why the Northern tribe was so offended and why they declared war.
Kouga was, quite possibly, the best wolf demon Alpha to ever be. He was young, strong, smart and with crazy leadership skills. He had the biggest, strongest tribe, that would likely only grew in numbers and in strength in the future.
… And, he has a human for intended mate, that rejected him.
Then there was Ayame, apparently the only wolf demon to ever manage to resist from falling for her own intended mate. Ayame, who has been obsessed with Kouga since she was a little girl.
Finally, there was the fact that the potential mating between the two would benefit two large, important wolf tribes… And Kouga rejected all that.
He rejected the girl (quite honestly, probably the very best the North had to offer, as Ginta said), he rejected the power, he rejected peace.
Quite possibly just because of what Kagome did.
Both wolves noticed the change in her feelings and what this new knowledge was doing to her, but said nothing to soothe it. It was something she needed to know, sooner rather than later, and even more so now that she was staying here, where she would experience in the flesh the effects of the war.
They shared a look, another perk of being in a wolf demon pack, it almost was as if they could read eachother's mind.
It would probably be painful, and make her uncomfortable, but they needed to know.
"So, now that you know all of these, I hope you don't mind if we ask you something as well" Hakkaku started.
That hat seemed to have snap Kagome off her thoughts, as she blinked to then look at them, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Sure, what is it?"
They both shared a look again, and while they were nervous as fuck, there was no way they'd live another day with the curiosity.
"Why there's not a single trace of InuYasha on you?" Ginta finally asked.
A.N.:
GOSH, FINALLY! HOW LONG WAS THIS CHAPTER, HONESTLY?!
Hey you guys! It's been a while, but here I am again, quarantine stuck in home, with lots of time and wanting to update my fics!
Idk what to say rn, except that I hope you're staying safe and in home. I hope all of you are healthy, and If you aren't I wish you a safe, quick recovery! Stay safe you guys, it's a difficult time for everyone rn!
Anyways, did you enjoy it? LET ME KNOW!
Till next time!
-Silvana.
#silvana writes : good mourning#kogkag#kouga x kagome#inuyasha#kouga#koga#Kagome Higurashi#koga x kagome
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Hello! We hope you enjoy this mpreg Harry fic rec that includes over 60+ fics. Please remember to give authors comments and kudos for their amazing work. Happy reading!
1. seeing blind by [ Justalittlebitlonely ] (2k)
A couple of years ago, Harry had been sure he was going to end his life mateless and alone, because no one would mate a Blind omega. Besides, he knew he wasn’t a typical omega. He was too tall, voice too deep, limbs too big and gangly. Maybe as an alpha he could have a chance to find someone, but as an omega , no alpha would want to mate him. But life had proven him wrong.
2. The Nearness of You by [ theweightofmywords ] (2k)
Harry and Louis' baby is due any moment. Harry just wants pretty toenails, and Louis just wants to help.
3. Piece by Piece by [ @sadaveniren ] (3k)
He rubbed his hand over his lower stomach and closed his eyes. Louis was going to lose his fucking mind.
(aka Harry tells Louis he's pregnant and it goes as expected)
4. Baby, You're My Only Reason by [ FallingLikeThis ] (3k)
Louis worries about becoming a father.His pregnant husband, Harry, eases his worries without even realizing he's doing it.
5. Louis Baby, Hurry Down The Chimney Tonight by [ lgbtwinks ] (4k)
Harry looked so beautiful next to the fireplace playing with Danny on the rug. The dim light from the fireplace softly enhanced his jawline and pretty cheekbones. Harry looked like a proper mum playing with the kids.
In which Louis and Harry celebrate Christmas with their four kids and all Louis wants is to get laid.
6. I hate to Love you by [ brainwaves, Thingssicant ] (5k)
Louis froze in place, eyes widening and heart dropping to his stomach. There’s no way he heard that right.
“Poor boy lost this opportunity over a bit of fun with some boy. But that just means good news for you, captain!” the coach continued enthusiastically, expecting Louis to respond in kind but Louis was barely processing his words.
“I-I’m sorry, what did you say before? He’s pregnant? As in having a baby?”
“Not sure pregnant can mean anything else, son, but yes,”
Or, Harry and Louis are co Captains with a love/hate relationship.
7. Short Steps, Deep Breaths (Everything Is Alright) by [ Sugartitstyles ] (5k)
"Harry are you okay?”
Harry shook his head sighing softly. “I’ve been getting sick a lot lately. Anything can trigger my vomiting it seems.” Cher giggled and nodded. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing really, just reminds me when I had David. The morning sickness for your first child is terrible. I don’t remember Gemma suffering that bad while we were in school though. Must of skipped her lucky.”
Harry just sat quietly in shock. “Cher, I love you and all but you are talking nonsense. There is no way I can get pregnant.”
“You never know Harry, stranger things have happened.”
Or the one where Harry ends up pregnant on the night of his collage graduation after riding louis.
8. A Hand to Hold and a Hand Held by [ @londonfoginacup ] (5k)
When Harry goes to the One Direction concert one year with his sister, he doesn’t expect to go home with the amazing Louis Tomlinson himself.
But then, he really doesn’t expect that night to have an impact on the rest of his life either.
9. Right Here Waiting by [ @chloehl10 ] (5k)
Louis and Harry are expecting a baby. Harry's heavily pregnant and nesting madly, determined to make their home ready for their baby.
10. Take My Medicine by [ @sadaveniren ] (5k)
Louis came over to Harry’s side of the bed and gave him a hello kiss. Kissing Harry always felt like coming home. From their first kiss at fourteen and sixteen he’d known that there would be no one else for him. And now, decades later, he still knew that was true.
----
AKA a sequel to Answer All Your Wishes featuring fluff, filth, and more fluff
11. Wear A Necklace Of Hope (Side By Side With Me) by [ sweaterpawstyles ] (5k)
"Lou," Harry's voice was high-pitched and small. He was so small. Everything about him seemed so fragile and Louis was terrified he would break him.
He knew it was too late though. Louis couldn't break him because Harry was already broken.
Or
A Hunger Games AU about Louis and Harry's life as victors in District 4
12. Forever and Always by [ tomlinbum ] (6k)
“I want a lot of kids,” Harry slurs. He's sitting on Louis's dick right now, riding Louis slowly and at his own pace.
“Okay, baby,” Louis says, petting his hip.
Harry pouts. “I mean it – I want, want so many baby Tommos running around the house, wrecking havoc just like their Daddy.”
Or the one where Harry meets the love of his life at 16. This follows the years following their meet.
13. Zero Means Nothing When I'm With You by [ WhiteClifford ] (6k)
Louis doesn't know what he's looking for until he finds it.
Harry just knows he may defy his gender norms, with his height and clumsiness, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want litters of pups running around while he does domestic things all day long.
In other words, boy meets boy and no one can stop pining.
14. honey and i by [ itiswhatitisbutterfly ] (6k)
AU very loosely based on Marley and Me, Louis takes his friends advice and buys Harry a puppy to quell his desires to start a family. However the puppy turns them into a family with out them really knowing.
15. To Carry Love by [ @dimpled-halo ] (7k)
During One Direction’s hiatus, Harry becomes unexpectedly pregnant, and Louis does his best at becoming the most supportive husband he can be.
16. Oh Baby, It's You by [ leedsbracelet ] (7k)
Harry wants a baby, and he intends on having one.
17. I heard this life is overrated, But I hope that it gets better as we go by [ louisnuggets ] (7k)
"Harry this is not something we're going to argue about. I decided to do it. It's a sure thing."
Harry remembered his words. The sure look in Louis eyes, the way he balled his fists, the way he talked. His Alpha voice coming through. Everything. How could he ever forget? It was one of the worst days of his life. After Harry's heat, which included five days of a lot of orgasms and even more cum, Louis and Harry had been laying in bed. Louis' knot slowly loosening in Harry. Harry's back against Louis' chest. Harry was sated and happy until Louis threw the bomb.
"Baby I have to leave again. Longer this time. I know you don't like this but this is really important for my career." Some may think, what's so horrible about that? But Harry knew what that meant. It meant Louis would leave.
18. Baby, Honey by [ @chloehl10 ] (7k)
Harry's been talking about sex and babies on stage too much for Louis' liking, so he decides to give him what he wants...
Or the one with the aftermath of Harry's Detroit concert...
19. The King's Omega by [ HunterMay18 ] (8k)
An omega with a really dark past becomes the King's new love interest.
20. yes, you make my life worthwhile by [ tomorrows ] (9k)
Harry whispers to him that this feels like every dream he’s had for the last three years and Louis kisses his temple, behind his ear, across his cheeks and by the edge of his jaw. He runs the back of his finger across Winnie’s sleep-warm cheeks and sighs, the weight of the world finally off his shoulder.
Louis' a pediatrician, Harry's a preschooler teacher, and they're having a baby.
21. Still believe in magic, oh yes I do by [ lookingforparadise ] (9k)
Harry and Louis are the greatest power couple in town. Louis plays football. Harry is pregnant.
22. Another Constellation to Trace by [ @screwstyles ] (11k)
Mpreg AU: Louis and Harry bet on who can keep Harry's pregnancy a secret for longer. Neither of them is particularly good at it, and it doesn't help that their soulmate tattoos make it even harder.
23. As young as we are by [ quitefinishedlove ] (11k)
A familiar pair of worn out Vans suddenly stops, catching onto Harry’s peripheral vision that he had to snap his head back just to face the person.
And there stood Harry’s ‘Baby Daddy’. God, he already hates that term.
(or, Louis and Harry are still in high school; Louis is mister Popular and Harry is the innocent kid that no one notices or really likes. They occasionally hook up in secret, but it supposedly doesn't mean anything. But then Harry, of course, ends up getting pregnant.)
24. To the Moon by [ @chelsea-frew ] (11k)
University students Harry and Louis have an arrangement--they are friends with benefits. When Harry accidentally becomes pregnant, however, they need to redefine their relationship. Do they want to keep things the way they are, or are they ready for something more?
25. Commitments by [ @chelsea-frew ] (11k)
An AU loosely based on the movie 27 Dresses. Harry is a fan of weddings, and Louis writes about weddings. They have sex, create a baby, then meet. Can they straighten themselves out after doing things completely out of order?
26. to change how you see and what you believe by [ jaerie ] (12k)
Harry and Louis are best friends who just happen to fall into bed with each other sometimes, it's not a big deal. After a drunken night of discussing their kinks, they wake up naked together. They don't remember what happened, but they've done it before and they'll probably do it again, but five months later, a surprise changes everything.
or an I didn't know I was pregnant au
27. Leap of Fate by [ @happilylouie ] (12k)
After one too many failed dates, Harry decides he’s had enough. He is going to start a family on his own, everything falls into place as Harry finds the perfect donor. But when Harry realizes who the donor actually is it hits him like a curveball. He wants Louis Tomlinson to be involved in his baby’s life, but first he has to figure out a way to date him.
28. shut your mind off (and let your heart hear me) by [ BeHappily ] (13k)
Harry wants Louis for a while, Louis wants Harry forever, but emotions and a little human get in their way.
Or, an AU where Louis is a single father to cute twins, Harry is a ballet dancer who doesn't want any relationship, and they foolishly become friends with benefits, but maybe it wasn't so bad after all.
29. you fit me better than my favorite sweater by [ brightbluelou ] (13k)
Harry didn’t mean to fall in love with his best friend, and he definitely didn’t mean to get pregnant. Despite that, it’s probably still the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And after that, well. It just kept getting better.
30. Brand New Life by @chelsea-frew (13k)
Harry Styles is one of nineteen children and has been sheltered all his life. After his best friend Niall Horan introduces him to the joy that is the three-man band known as One Direction, Harry is hooked. When Niall gets them tickets to a One Direction concert, Harry gets more than just a good time dancing to great music.
31. So Long I’ve Been Waiting by [ @flamboyantommo ] (13k)
the one where Harry and Louis are having their first baby, and keeping it a secret until the end of the first trimester is a lot harder than they thought it would be.
32. Answer All Your Wishes by [ @sadaveniren ] (13k)
Harry and Louis met when Harry was thirteen and as first impressions go theirs was memorable enough to start a life long romance.
AKA a Tom Fletcher/Giovanna Fletcher AU where Louis is part of One Direction, Harry is the love of his life who blogs, and they have many, many children.
33. there's something in the water by [ curlyfries ] (13k)
Harry and Louis met when Harry was in the middle of a rough patch after he injured himself during a tennis competition. After a night that Harry can't forget, he's met with a little surprise a couple of months later. It's a bit of a shock, especially considering how he got there, but he's determined to see it through. He's all prepared to do it all alone too, but running into Louis again might change the game.
Cue dates, happiness and cuddles, but Harry can't get the fact that he needs to tell Louis out of his mind. He's got his fingers crossed that it all works out.
34. Made From Love by [ @chloehl10 ] (14k)
It's almost Christmas, and amongst the preparations, Louis' realised something about his husband Harry.
Harry, however, seems to be oblivious.
Louis' determined to open Harry's eyes and make him realise the real magic that's happening this Christmas...
35. The Sunshine Stays by [ @becomeawendybird ] (15k)
It’s three years after One Direction got back together, and Harry and Louis have just come off a world tour. They’re enjoying a much more relaxed schedule the second time around, allowing themselves to bask in married life. Until, one day, Louis surprises Harry on vacation, and there are some surprising consequences.
36. On His Way Home by [ @stnbutterflies ] (16k)
Or the one where Harry is set up on a blind date with his sister’s best friend’s brother
37. I'll Be Your Light by [ mightaswellll ] (17k)
Harry Styles always had a crush on his sister's best friend Louis Tomlinson. Moving in with them should be a good way to get over it, right?
38. If the Surface Begs You Home by [ @becomeawendybird ] (17k)
Harry is a mermaid from the underwater kingdom of Mercadia who is a little too fascinated by life above the surface. He's kicked out of his home after he winds up pregnant, and has to figure out how to make his way in the world.
Louis is the darling of the small neighbouring seaside village who came home after university to take over their local library, and can't seem to stay away from the mysterious pregnant mermaid his friends introduce him to.
39. the sweetest devotion by [ itiswhatitisbutterfly ] (18k)
Harry loved Louis at 18 when he couldn’t afford to take him on a date, at 21 when he spent all his time trying to make it and now he adores every part of him as he professionally lives his dream every single day. And he will love him no matter how long trying for a baby will take them and every day after.
40. we come in line by [ starsinoureyes ] (19k)
Harry decides to have a baby on his own, Louis doesn't agree it's a good idea but lets him do it anyway. It took seven years and Harry getting artificially inseminated for them to find each other. Louis has a secret he didn't tell Harry and it might affect their family.
Also featuring: a pre-pregnancy party, fertility clinics and pregnancy scares.
-based on the movie The Switch (2010)
41. Magic Everywhere We Go by [ @casuallyhl ] (19k)
Fifteen years after first meeting Louis at a mutual friend’s birthday party, Harry is just as in love with his husband as he was on their wedding day. And with the birth of each new child, Harry seems to have only grown to love him more.
And now Harry is spending four days at the happiest place on earth with all of his favorite people – his mum and stepdad, his four beautiful children, and his perfect husband.
Life couldn’t get any better than this.
Or, Harry and Louis go on holiday with their family to Disney World.
42. wrapped in light, in life, in love by [ tomorrows ] (19k)
It should be embarrassing — it is a bit embarrassing, actually, because he can feel Lila watching over him like a hawk, but Louis’ got a palm on his thigh and there’s a cherry red lollipop in his hand and Harry feels so bloody dizzy with butterflies. He brings the lollipop to his mouth and sure enough, the sweet cherry flavor feels more therapeutic than anything, like it’s made from warm hugs and naps by the fireplace. He’s too busy falling in love all over again to be embarrassed.
“S’good, innit?”
Harry nods his head. He feels like a child, but it’s okay because Louis is there and he’s staring right at him, blue eyes consumed by Harry before him. Being at the center of Louis’ attention is just as overwhelming as Harry remembers it being fifteen years ago.
Of all the things to happen while taking care of his niece for a month, falling in love with his boyhood crush all over again is probably the highlight of Harry’s autumn.
Well. That, and getting pregnant.
43. Second Time's the Charm by [ @chelsea-frew ] (21k)
The first time Louis sees the new barista at his favourite coffee shop, he falls head over heels. The first time he takes the barista, Harry, home, they end up making something a little bit more than conversation. Suddenly, it seems to Louis that Harry is keeping secrets. He is. Two life-changing secrets. When Harry lets Louis in on these secrets, Louis needs to decide whether to let them change his life--or not.
44. Weigh Us Down (We're In Love) (23k)
Harry’s eyes widen slightly at that. “We’re friends?”
Louis nods eagerly, smiling even wider. “Of course we are! You’re like, my first ever friend here. We just moved in, you see. Did I already tell you about that? Anyway! Maybe you can stay for dinner and I can show you my toys?”
Harry smiles. “You’ll let me play with you?”
Louis nods again, excited. “Of course!” He looks thoughtful for a moment, and then he’s slipping off the couch and crouching in front of Harry. “Oh, and Mum always kisses my wounds after she fixes them up. It makes me feel loads better all the time, so.” He leans forward and puckers his lips, pressing them over the bandage on Harry’s knee.
(harry and louis first meet when they’re eight and ten. this is their story throughout the years.)
45. there's a love and it grows (there's a life that we share) by [ felixandtae ] (23k)
“Yeah, we made a cute baby,” Louis said, tucking Harry’s hair behind his ear. “I’m so glad I met you.”
Harry said sheepishly, "I’m so glad I went to that party. Even if I don’t remember much of it, our baby is like a little match maker. I can’t believe I have a baby with a guy I’ve been crushing on for so long.”
“Oh, so long? And how long was this crush?” Louis teased, smirking as he saw Harry’s cheeks flush red.
Or where Harry and Louis are strangers (not really) who had a one night stand at a party and end up having a baby together.
46. Seven is Heaven by [ @chelsea-frew ] (25k)
Louis and Harry find themselves unexpectedly (but very happily) adding to their family.
47. Somewhere In Between Who I Used to Be and Who I'll Be Tomorrow by [ ShapeOfLou ] (27k)
After landing his dream job of being a TV host, Harry Styles thinks he has it all, a nice job, luxury cars, designer clothes, and a stable relationship with a man he loves. That is, until he makes the drunken mistake of going home with the cute bartender which results in an unexpected pregnancy.
With a baby on the way, Harry has to balance his work life with deciding how he wants to spend the rest of his life: with the man he's been with for years or the father of his child.
48. A Perfect Reason by [ @chelsea-frew ] (29k)
During a visit to a charity he'd like to support, Prince Louis--next in line to the throne of the United Kingdom--meets Harry, the man of his dreams. Trouble is, Louis is not out, and the law says his heirs can only be born of a woman. Louis is determined not to let that stop his pursuit of Harry. His determination doubles when Harry accidentally becomes pregnant. He and Harry will have their little family--and change the monarchy while they're at it.
49. here comes the sun by [ tomorrows ] (30k)
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Louis promises, his pink, chapped lips moving slowly in the cold. It matches the beanie on his head—pink, because they found out this morning that they’re having a girl and that’s just.
Harry’s going to be a dad. To a little girl. Five months from now he’ll be holding her in his arms, and she’ll be so lovely and small.
They’re going to have a spring baby and she’s probably going to have Louis’ eyes. What a blessing that would be. Harry crosses his fingers on the hand inside his pocket, hoping that she does. He’ll love her either way—blue or green or even brown eyes, it doesn’t matter—but he’d really like them to be blue, he thinks.
[Harry is a pediatric specialist, Louis is a neurosurgeon. All they want is a baby.]
50. Something Just Like This by [ kiwikero ] (31k)
Newspaper intern Harry Styles can't believe his luck when he goes from fetching coffee for his boss to writing about London's own superheroes, One Direction. Even better, he gets to spend time with the unfairly handsome Freefall, also known as Louis Tomlinson. Louis, who is way out of Harry's league and far too busy for a proper relationship—so how on earth is Harry supposed to tell him they're expecting?
51. Little Wonder by [ @sweariwouldnt ] (33k)
A mistake, or perhaps a well-thought out fluke of fate, results in Harry and Louis welcoming their first child. This is how it all goes down.
52. Destinies Miracle by [ whathappenedinwellington ] (33k)
Harry and Louis have been married for 22 years and are the proud parents of 4 beautiful children. At the age of 47, Harry unexpectedly falls pregnant-- an extremely rare occurrence given his age. The family of 6 are faced with challenges and decisions once unimaginable as Harry carries the baby to full term despite all odds against him.
53. Baby, What A Big Surprise by [ @icanhazzlou ] (33k)
Or, the one where shy, quiet Harry has no idea he’s a carrier, and a one night stand with the most popular boy in school shows him just how wrong he was.
Featuring Lottie as Harry’s best friend, Niall as her boyfriend, and, of course, Louis as the popular boy with a soft spot for his little sister’s quirky friend.
54. Party of Five by [ @chelsea-frew ] (34k)
Six years after their twin girls were born, Harry and Louis find themselves expecting another bundle of joy! Ups, downs, excitement, and worry follow the news as the family of four prepares to get just a little bit bigger.
55. love is so good when the love is young by [ drunkonyou ] (38k)
Louis falls for his pregnant best friend who has a bit of baggage. They make it work though.
56. We Got The World Shaking by [ FutureMrsHaroldStyles ] (39k)
Suddenly Louis is taking Harry’s hand in his own and turns to his sister. “I’m taking him to my room. Don’t worry I’m going to take care of him. Now go and enjoy your party, little sis!”
And with that Louis leads Harry to the elevator. The thoughts in Harry’s head are going wild but they all come down to Fuck am I really gonna spend my heat with Louis Tomlinson?
Or the one where Harry goes into heat at his best friend Lottie's birthday party and her big brother helps him out.
57. Fallen Far From the Tree by [ @sadaveniren ] (41k)
Harry and Louis go through the ups and ups of pregnancy.
58. everywhere (i wanna be with you) by [ itiswhatitisbutterfly ] (42k)
Harry and Louis meet because they have terrible friends, they fall in love because something feels right in a world of uncertainty and shifting grounds. Louis is an actor and Harry is a model at the top of his game, the best things in life are the most unexpected ones and the things that hit you when you are least expecting it.
Featuring winter in London, nights in Paris, early mornings in New York, burning heat in Monte Carlo and an enduring love spent transcending four corners of the globe.
59. I'll Be Here Waiting on Forever by [ sweaterpawstyles ] (46k)
Harry made Louis feel like he was walking on air. He was beautiful in every way and it constantly amazed Louis. His eyes could melt Louis' heart at a single glance, his soft hands made Louis' heart race with a simple touch, and the words from his cherry red lips were so captivating that Louis held onto everything he said.
There was a constant buzz in Louis' veins when Harry gave him that look, the look that spoke more than words ever could. It was a soft fond that Louis fell in love with so easily. Too easily.
Louis was in love with the boy he could never have and show off to the world.
Or
A Romeo and Juliet AU where Louis is an alpha prince who falls in love with Harry, an omega prince from the neighboring kingdom
60. Temporary Fix by [ HazzaMyLou ] (49k)
Harry's been hurt too many times before and doesn't want to fall in love.
Louis doesn't believe in love and doesn't want to settle down.
But a chance meeting, a drunken night, and a pregnancy test might change their plans.
61. Hideaway. by [ arrowtomyheart ] (52k)
Harry is in a borderline abusive relationship which ends after the news that Harry's pregnant. He is homeless for the night and travels 3 hours on the train to turn up at his best friend's Liam's house unexpectedly for somewhere to stay. He meets Louis, Liam's flatmate, and they discover that they have more in common that anyone would expect. They fall in love.
62. In Any Universe by [ @chelsea-frew ] (55k)
Harry and Louis are happy. Yes, they are closeted, but they love each other and love their jobs as members of One Direction. Their happiness is shattered when they are in a car accident and Louis wakes up having forgotten the last five years of his life. He doesn't remember being on The X-Factor, being a part of One Direction or, most devastating, Harry. Estranged from the love of his life when Louis retreats to what he does remember, Harry discovers that he's pregnant. What will he do if Louis doesn't recover his memory, and he's faced with being a single parent? What will he do without Louis?
63. Smokescreen by [ Arvernii ] (57k)
Louis rules the school; guys want to be him, girls want to do him. He's the coolest guy in school and if you don't agree with him, his crew will make you change your mind. Spending most of his afternoons smoking cigarettes while on the back of his motorcycle, Louis has it all: popularity, money, fear and respect. However his bad-boy image is just a smokescreen, when a new out and proud gay student named Harry suddenly shows up, everything is immediately thrown into chaos.
What is the price of love?
64. Two + Two = Four by [ @chelsea-frew ] (58k)
In the middle of the Where We Are Tour, Harry and Louis find themselves feeling a little amorous after attending Louis' mum's wedding. After indulging in some unprotected sex on an L.A. beach, Harry ends up pregnant, expecting twins just weeks after the end of their On the Road Again Tour.
Not only do the boys find themselves facing the daunting prospect of becoming parents at the height of their fame--not to mention during a worldwide stadium tour--but the boys are still closeted. Their lives are about to change, but though the changes are stressful, and the road is just a bit rough, they can't wait to welcome their twins into the world.
65. Baby We Could Be Enough by [ @chloehl10 ] (74k)
Harry Styles has always wanted a family, but his boyfriend doesn’t. When an unexpected pregnancy leaves Harry feeling alone and terrified, he feels he has no choice but to give up his baby. He finds a family with the adoptive parents, and maybe something more.
~
Louis Tomlinson and his wife, Jess, have been trying for a baby for years. Their hasty marriage after they first got pregnant has only led to a series of miscarriages that have put a strain on their already precarious relationship. When they meet a young man desperate for a home and someone to raise his child, Louis realizes that he may have been moving in the wrong direction all along.
66. One Night Stands by [ benniejets ] (77k)
Harry was always great at making decisions; he never did anything too risky and he never really did anything stupid. He played by all the rules, which led to him living a quiet life. However, one night when he decides to go out with a few friends and have some drinks and randomly hooks up with a man, his specifically planned out life goes to shit.
67. Half A Heart by [ Larry_Darling0124 ] (198k)
Scarlet Marie Styles.
Louis didn't know about her. Harry kept her a secret. Scarlet knows he left.
*
Eight years ago Harry Styles gave birth to a beautiful baby girl named Scarlet Marie. Now, at the age of 26, he doesn't expect to run into the only man he ever loved. The man that left him when he needed him most.
*
Eight years ago Louis Tomlinson made the biggest mistake of his life. Now, at the age of 27, that same mistake just got a whole lot bigger.
68. A Little Love by [ felixandtae ] (220k)
Harry and Louis are best friends, and when Harry's boyfriend breaks up with him, he's instantly depressed. Louis hated seeing him this way, so one thing leads to another and they wind up sleeping together, which causes a lot of problems.
Or, where Harry gets heartbroken, so Louis tries showing him love, but a bump is in the road. Literally.
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Eel River Inn (4/?)
In the morning, Bucky wakes to the sound of an Underwood typewriter clacking away and the smell of coffee. If it weren’t for the soft bed, he might have thought he fell asleep in the company Clerk’s tent again. But there weren’t gunshots there was only muffled swearing as you banged away. He smiled a little, Ah, the artistic process, he thought. So majestic. You groaned and he heard a soft thud that sounded distinctly like a forehead on a desk. It’s going well, he snorted.
He followed the sound down the hall, running his fingers through his hair and yawning, “Doll?” he said, nudging the door open, “You okay?” Your answering groan makes him chuckle as he leans against the door frame. You’re holding a cup of coffee and looking like you’re about to throw the typewriter out the window. The early sun is shining on your hair like a halo and you’re wearing a t-shirt and panties, a pencil behind your ear and a riotous mane of hair fall past your shoulders. His own grumpy and rebellious angel. You turn and look at him, your lips curling in a soft smile, “Did I wake you?” He crosses the floor to you, looking around your office, “I could have gone back to sleep. Clicking Keys and some swearing won’t keep me awake, I slept through worse in the army.”
You nod and pull him down for a good morning kiss, you taste like coffee and he sighs, “You taste like heaven,” he says huskily, “is there any more coffee?” You nod, “In the kitchen next to the fridge.” Bucky kisses you one last time and brushes hair out of your eyes. You look so beautiful all sleep rumpled and rosy-cheeked. He leaves you to your work and heads downstairs. Your house is cozy. He didn’t spend too long sightseeing last night but now as he sips his coffee, he’s curious. He looks at the framed photos. You with various teams. One where you have a lab coat. One where you’re lighting a cigarette with a torch with grease on your face. You look too young to even be smoking in this century but it suits you somehow. You look half feral. He wonders what you studied. He wonders why pictures seem to be missing, there’s a gap noticeable only by the length of your hair. He wants to know why you’re a writer that doesn’t seem to have spent much time writing before recently. He hears your feet on the stairs and he tried to look nonchalant but you’re smiling and it’s knowing. It makes him blush.
“You’ll never in a million years guess what I studied in college,” you tease. You smile at him over a fresh cup of coffee and he cocks his head, looking from you to the pictures, “Something with grease,” he guessed? You smile, “Next-gen mechanical engineering.” you tell him. Bucky quirks an eyebrow, “No shit?” You laugh, “Nope,” you say, “Been working on a proper solar sailor out in the barn for the last 5 years... it helps break up the writer’s block.” The look on his face, trying to play it cool but internally screaming makes you giggle. “Gimme a minute to put on pants... and some shoes. I’ll show you.” Bucky doesn’t know what a solar sailor is. He doesn’t really care. But he wants to see it. He wants to put together your puzzle.
He follows you upstairs, watching as you pull on clothes. Torn jeans and a black t-shirt. Sturdy work boots. He pulls on his own clothes and pulls you into a slow kiss, “I always liked smart girls,” he says smiling. You grin, “You ain’t seen nothing yet, handsome.” You take his hand and lead him to the barn. It’s unassuming. Bucky had thought it was just a storage shed. A place where you kept a lawn mower and maybe some old junk. He didn’t expect what he saw when you rolled the doors open.
It was a fully functional workshop. Nearly on par with Stark’s. You pull levers and counterweights release, lowering the skeleton of your Solar sailor to the work table. It looks like a surfboard with a sail on it. The fabric of the sail glitters with tiny golden sequin looking things and he looks at you in askance. “I really loved the movie treasure planet as a kid,” you say shrugging. Bucky smiles a little, he doesn’t know what that is either but you’re looking at your creation with pride. “What does it do?” he asks. You smile up at him with a look that just screams “trouble”. “It flies,” you say, “Or at least it will. Maybe another 300 odd hours of fabrication.”
Bucky tilts your chin up and kisses you, “So, this all begs the question... How do you go from Next Gen Mechanics to Young Adult Author.” He’s smiling until he notices a flicker of uncertainty in your face. The woman who spills neuroses and insecurities on paper as characters in a story is hesitating to tell him. He waits patiently. God knows there are things in his past he doesn’t want to tell you.
“That is a very long story,” you say softly. “I got time, baby,” he says, kissing your forehead. You nod, turning away from him, going to your work table. The soldier pulls up a stool and folds his arms, watching your hands. They’re aimless, seeking distraction. But he waits until you find your voice. “I always loved science,” you say. “I was fascinated by it. By the idea that we put a man on the moon with less technology than I had in my gameboy. That I could make those things if I had the plans... I started with shop classes and shit. Moved on to robotics. Studied everything I could get my hands on.” Bucky smiled a little. He could see that. A cute little girl in a baseball cap covered in grease under a car, gleefully tearing it apart to see how it worked.
“I skipped a couple grades, and my high school trig teacher slipped me a flyer one day. Something for a bot battle. So I put a crew together, me and a couple dumb asses from my shop class you know? I just needed them to lift shit really. Lift shit and look scary. I was all of 5ft tall and about 100 pounds with a backpack on... And 15. Having some muscle on my team didn’t seem like a bad idea.” That made Bucky chuckle. You were still small but there was about a decade of lean lithe muscle packed onto your frame. He’d felt it when he’d carried you to bed. “So we went. And we won... And we kept winning. Scored me a full ride to MIT. At least in theory.” You reflexively grind your teeth, “My funding got pulled about halfway through but I stayed the course. I pulled out loans. A lot of loans.”
“So when the government think tank offered me a job, I said fuck yeah.” you snort. “First thing they did was pay off my loans. All 150,000 worth. Like that. I should have known better.” You sigh and glance at Bucky, “I was barely 21. They offered me money, good money. More money than I was gonna make anywhere else. More money than I knew what to do with after growing up on welfare and free school lunches.” Bucky wants to wrap his arms around you but he doesn’t. He stays still and waits. The story is about to take a turn, he can feel it. It hurts already and he doesn’t want to know.
“They wanted results. Weapons. Defense tech. Anything they could get. Anything we could make. It was merciless. Endless. And I couldn’t take it. What they didn’t know... What I didn’t know. Was that the mood shifts I’d been self-medicating with Adderall and nicotine gum weren’t just a personality quirk. It was an unchecked bipolar disorder with a dash of ADHD and generalized anxiety thrown in for fun. When I dropped my basket I didn’t just drop it... I lit that shit on fire and laughed.” You chuckle darkly, “I’d been awake so long I hallucinated a giant purple weasel named Terry... That fucker still owes me $50 for surviving jumping off the catwalk railing.” Bucky tenses, an old instinct to kill rising. They’d trapped you and drove you to insanity. The fucking bastards.
“Turns out, unbreakable contracts break pretty easy when you lose your mind,” you say shrugging, “And I’m not the only one... I spent two years getting put back together. Some of my team is still locked up.” You swallow hard and take a deep breath. “The books came later. Shit I hallucinated. Shit I wanted to read. Anything to keep my mind occupied when I couldn’t sleep. An old teacher of mine sent some of the stuff I’d written to a publisher after I talked to her about it and here we are.” You smile a little and look up at him uncertain and shy. Scared. “If you want to run, I wouldn’t blame you. My life is a mess.”
Bucky stands slowly and holds his arms out, “Sorry, Doll,” he says, “If you think a mental break down is gonna send me running you got another thing coming.” When you close the distance between you he hugs you to him and kisses the side of his head, “I spent the better part of 70 years a brainwashed assassin,” he murmurs, “There’s nothing hiding in your mind that could possibly scare me more than the things I don’t quite remember.”
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Way Down Below/ Sinister Kid 2- TEASER
.. As I pulled out the deck and looked over the old cards. I swear I could smell the scent of cigarettes coming from them, lingering like a ghost. It’s funny how such a small thing can trigger memories like the taste the humid air in my hotel room, and felt a slight pulse of history and power older then this country was. I could almost hear a deep musical, slightly accented voice speaking…
I shook my head to clear the memory. Echoes of memory starting to fade in my mind. Think of the question. Otherwise, the cards will give me one hell of a strange answer.
I took a deep breath trying to clear my head save for my question which I focused on more, and more and more. As I did this… I started to shuffle. First cutting the deck into three piles and then sorting the deck in those three piles. Then I started shuffling the cards like I was dealing poker or something. Once, twice, three times. I knew the cards couldn’t tell me an address, much less coordinates but… At this point, I would take a hint, ask the audience, phone a friend, anything. Hell, I was close to calling a psychic I had met during an LA trip to pull out her damn spirit board (as much as I hate those things) and talk to dead people. So anything the cards could tell me would be enough.
Finally, I took a deep breath, brought the cards up to my lips and blew across them like I was blowing out a candle.
Tell me where I can find him. Where I can find Michael Langdon. If not… Tell me what his plans are… Please.
As soon as I lost my breath I could swear the cards themselves pulsed like they possessed a heartbeat. It was an odd sensation but one I was used to, in fact, I have to admit I almost forgot how much I missed it. I sat the deck on the cover before me as I crossed my legs. Very carefully I pushed the deck so the cards lay face down, fanned out upon the bedspread. Their colored backs of moons, suns, and stars showing perhaps even more vivid when compared to the muted brown of the hotel sheets. Yet it was oddly fitting contrast. I chewed a little on my lip as I decided something really quickly.
3 card spread, I decided. It would be a good start for now. If I need to do something a bit more extensive later, I would. But with this deck, it was always good to start pretty broad and go from there. These cards have been pretty faithful when I used it back when I was with the Coven and I had a feeling it wouldn’t let me down.
Gently, I ran my pointer and middle finger over the top of the cards, lightly brushing their top corners. It's… Hard to describe what I was looking for when I did this. I guess the closest I could say would be a strange calling, a tug of sorts is but that’s not quite right either. I suppose it was instinctive, like the sense you had when you chose to walk a particular street at night as opposed to taking your familiar shortcut home.
Just a third of a length of the deck was I felt it, that strange sensation I was looking for. One I knew meant I had found the card I was looking for. Carefully I pushed the other cards around this particular card aside and set it aside. I didn’t turn it over though. Not yet. I did this strange ritual once more. This time from the other side. My fingertips didn’t have to skim that many cards this time though, as I felt it almost at the very end of the deck.
Just as before I pulled the card out of the deck and set it with the other. And then I turned to the deck one last time and skimmed it with my fingertips from the start. This time I was at least 2 thirds of the way down the length of the deck until the final card captured me. I set it with its sisters before I pushed the deck together to either shuffle to put back in the box… We would find out soon enough.
I breathed in deeply, letting it out slowly. Wondering where that strange unease, that strange buzzing in my blood, was coming from but deciding not to focus on it. For now. I turned to the first card and flipped it over.
Instantly I was met with the image of a cloaked woman in a rowboat. Her hood was drawn and back to me. At her side was a small child rowing with her. It looked like the kid was just about to look over their shoulder but the image was frozen at that. Leaning against their seat, and laying on the floor of the boat behind them were several swords. I could count at least six of them.
Huh? I thought looking at the card in my hand. For a moment, I could swear I saw the waves of the river the women and child were traveling ripple. But when I blinked the image was still. I decided not to focus on it as it meant it wasn’t important… But the message…
Can’t say I saw that one coming… I thought.
This wasn’t what I was expecting for the start but I quickly filed the information away as I turned to the next card. Well… If I thought the last card was odd it was nothing compared to this one.
I was met instantly with the image of a vivid orange wheel of fortune and fate, with various symbols I recognized from past spell books on its face. The wheel was hung like a sun in the blue skies above but this was certainly no sun. On the left of the wheel was a golden snake, on the right was a jackal-headed man, and on top of it sat a sphinx looking directly at me. In the corners of the card were angels, and other winged creatures like bulls, lions, and eagles. For a moment I could have sworn I saw the wheel turn but I think it was just a trick of the light with foil.
Once again I found myself utterly puzzled. Did I mess something up? The cards weren’t answering like I had thought they would. Plus I was getting the feeling that this may be… Something else at work.
But what?
I reached for the last card and flipped it over.
“You gotta be kidding me…” I couldn’t help but say aloud when I looked at the last card.
There before me was the image of a naked man and women, looking to each other longing, like lovers, in a beautiful garden. Behind the women was a tree of strange colored fruits, a serpent coiled in the branches, meanwhile behind the man was a strange flaming tree that wasn’t burning despite the blaze. Above the couple a blazing bright being was in the skies, wings outstretched, face hard to make out but the fiery halo most certainly wasn’t hard to see.
No way.
No way in hell this was about Michael. Then… Was this a message to me? But about what? Did I not focus on my question enough? No, that didn’t feel right. Maybe I had to be more specific? I tried to keep the cards and their order in mind as I reached for the deck about to shuffle them in and ask again.
Later I would wonder if the burst of cold air from my cracked open window was just a coincidence or fate. Either way, I had completely forgotten about opening it to get rid of that musty smoky scent tinged with cleaning supplies. I was remembering now as my cards fluttered across the bed and I saw one fly off to the floor.
“Shit!” I cursed, leaping off the bed and running to the window to slam it down.
I sighed as I turned to the mess. Well, I guess I won’t need to shuffle too much on some of the deck, I thought as I walked over to the bed and walked around it to see how many cards had flown off. I could see a few of them there on the floor still faced down and on top of them was….
Wait…
It was face up.
My head started to spin, thinking I was getting a head rush I knelt down, trying to steady myself. I tried to ignore the strange feeling that had erupted in the pit of my stomach as I looked to the card before me.
There was the image of a being that was… Well, not a man but not a beast rather a strange mixture of both.
A great pair of wings came from it’s back, white feather’s singed and falling off as if the wings were mid-transformation to the veiny membrane of a bat; Like a moth shedding its cocoon. In one hand it held the chains that led to the collars of a man and women at its feet, in the other a blazing torch of black flame that stood out from fiery scene behind them. Its face was shark pale white… Well one could say hauntingly beautiful with angelic features and a face like a marble statue come to life, another could say horrifying with those red eyes…
Great horns coming from his head and the shining inverse pentagram that blazed like a star on the black background.
It’s not upright or upside down, I couldn’t help but notice. Interesting as most of the cards around it seemed to have fallen horizontal. Was this coincidence? Maybe, but if I were to read it then it showed that this one was in flux. Torn between the normal and reversed spread.
It could be read either way.
I suddenly felt cold even as I could feel my palms get sweaty. My heart starting to hammer. Calm down… I told myself. It’s just a card.
Yet I couldn’t help but feel like that wasn’t the case. Not in the least bit.
Taking a few deep breaths I swallowed down the strange fear and slowly started to reach for it, almost like it were an animal that could tear my hand off if I weren’t careful. Hand getting closer and closer. I could feel myself start to shake and I noticed something the air around the card… It was charged like a summer storm just dying to lose control.
I had felt that once before, a few years back. I had never forgotten it and never thought I would feel it again.
Oh hell, I thought pausing before...
Fuck it.
My fingertips touched the card. I barely had time to gasp when suddenly I was all but jerked away...
… Before me the figure in the card stood over the small boy, wings outstretched, feathers falling away to reveal large bat-like wings, behind him, red eyes glowing prideful as a black clawed hand set itself on the shoulders of the boy…
Or was that a boy?
No… Was they a man?
I couldn’t tell, all I knew is the boy was in between, tilting off the edge. I could see something in his hand bleed down his arm vivid crimson. I could see blood on his face as he pulled it away from his lips…
No…
Oh god no…
I knew what the boy had in his hand. I knew what he had done and I could feel my stomach turn.
“Father…” I could hear him say in a voice that sounded so hauntingly familiar but I couldn’t place as it was so soft yet it echoed like in a whisper hall…
“I am with you now.”
Sudden the boy looked up, looked right at me I… I couldn’t see his face but I could see his eyes.
My heart turned cold as beautiful startling blue became darker and darker until they were jet black…
And I found myself falling painfully on my ass in the real world, breathing hard.
“What the fuck?!” I all but screamed as soon as I caught my breath.
No one answered me.
I swung my legs around and faced the card head on as if I were going to pound the damn thing into the floor. But the air around it was gone. Faded like a morning fog yet the image lingered.
What the hell was that?
I reached over and tentatively, as if it were going to shock me, touched the card once more…
Nothing.
I took a few breaths before I picked it up off the floor and off the small pile of cards it sat on. Staring the creature dead in the eye as if challenging it do it again. Yet… The red eyes didn’t glint, didn’t blink. They were just a flat image printed on cardstock… Not the monster I saw just moments ago standing above that kid.
It was then suddenly my phone started to buzz. Pulling me out of my thoughts like a slap. I got to my feet and was about to grab it off the bed when suddenly the ring tone started...
More Coming Soon!
#michael langdon#american horror story#supernatural#spn x ahs crossover#michael langdon fan fiction#michael langdon x reader
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Yay! My first request for you :3 I need fluff so can I have a Christmas Date with MC for the RFA + Minor Duo? ❤️
Hey Stacy!!! Merry Christmas~!
Here’s your Christmas fluff!!! Special thanks to the amazing @rainydayswriter, who I wrote this collab with! I couldn’t have written this without her
Merry Christmas guys! I hope you like this! :)
Yoosung
Christmas is one of his favorite holidays!
And now he gets to spend it with his favorite person!
He plans it all out waaaaay ahead of time, and can hardly keep from spoiling the surprise he has planned
Lol ask him what he has planned and he’ll get so flustered, trying so hard not to accidentally give you a hint
Matching couple sweaters!!!
Starting with a walk through the park and drinking hot cocoa
Admiring all the lights and the songs, holding hands the entire time~
Then, when you’re both red-nosed and huddled together for warmth, it’s time to head back home to make lunch together!
You put on holiday tunes to jam to while cooking
And half the time you two are trying to out-carol each other by singing louder
Some of the food almost burns because you can’t hear the timer
After a lovely lunch together, it’s back out into the cold to catch a holiday movie together
A romantic movie, of course
Good thing its plot is predictable, because you spend half the movie snuggling Yoosung and peppering his face and neck with little kisses while he tries to stay quiet~
The later it gets, the more breathtaking the decorations strung up around the streets, and when the snow starts falling
You can bet Yoosung is dragging you to the most romantic spot he knows
Just so you can share that White Christmas kiss~
At last, you’re both back home to enjoy the last hours of Christmas together
Zen
For Zen’s part, I think it’s pretty similar to First Snow, so I hope you don’t mind!
Jumin
Christmas used to be just another holiday for him
Sometimes he’d spend it with his dad but most of the time he’d spend it with Elizabeth the 3rd
This year though, he takes you to his private rest house in Pyeongchang
And it still amazes how wealthy your husband is
Because damn the rest house was huge; not to mention gorgeous
He has the entire day planned though: skiing or ice skating in the morning, whichever you preferred
Then an afternoon tour around the area
You stop by a frozen lake and admire the view together
But when he has his back to you, you sneakily grab a snowball and throw it at his back
He stops and turns around
“Is that a challenge, my love?”
And you hurriedly scoop another handful of snow and roll it as you run because Jumin is making snowballs of his own
Then you’re squealing and laughing as his snowball hits your shoulder
Lol the bodyguards don’t know how to react like this is really sweet but omfg Jumin Han is running around throwing snowballs
You accidentally slip though and he lunges forward to catch you and the two of you end up on the ground
With you on top of him
Cheeks flushed, a smile on your face, the afternoon sun casting a halo around you
And he can’t help but think about how beautiful you are
His Christmas angel
You come home to a lavish candlelit dinner filled with your favorite dishes and a glass of your favorite wine
And then curl up against each other by the fireplace afterwards
But if you need extra warmth, rest assured, Daddy Jumin will take good care of you ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Saeyoung
Reunited with his brother and officially in a relationship with you, he can finally try turning his view of Christmas around
That being said, he decides that staying in for a date, where the two of you can do your own thing…
That sounds heavenly~
You work together to decorate the living room and achieve maximum romance
Saeran complains for days after about all the cat-shaped lights strung all over the place
Oh goodness, the holiday puns
“MC you are sleighing in that dress!”
“Heeeey no taking down the cat decor, Saeran! Don’t be such a Rude-Olph!”
“MC did you see Zen’s latest topless selfie in the chat??? I swear that guy is such a ho ho ho!”
You laugh at every pun though, because you absolutely think Saeyoung is hilarious
“Let’s make a snowman!”
You two convince Saeran to make a snowman with you and you take so many photos of the twins
You totally don’t mind having Saeran with the two of you because you know how much it means to Saeyoung
That evening though, Zen and Yoosung take Saeran out so you and Saeyoung could have the place to yourselves~
And you two snuggle up against each other on the couch and get ready to watch a Christmas movie
…but you have the bunker all to yourselves
[[ God Seven has blocked access to this part of the headcanon ]]
You two end up in bed, Saeyoung’s head resting against your chest as you hold him and he has his arms wrapped around your waist
“MC?” he whispers
“Hmm?”
“I…I always hated this holiday. Because I was always alone.”
He looks up at you, a small smile on his lips
“But now the Christmas carols are starting make sense. Thank you for choosing me. I promise to always make you happy and spend every Christmas with you for the rest of my life.”
And he pulls you close and captures your lips in his
[[ God Seven has blocked access to this part of the headcanon again ]]
Bonus: “Will you two STOP fucking and go to bed already?!”
“We’re making Christmas magic, Saeran~!”
“FUCK YOU SAEYOUNG!”
Saeran ended up sleeping at Yoosung’s that night
V/Jihyun
He spent the past Christmas reminiscing about the past, looking through old photo albums alone
But no way are you going to let him stew in what once was
“Bundle up, Jihyun, we’re going out!”
Practically dragging him by the hand, you begin leading him around with such a huge grin he can’t help but laugh
DATING…START!
Window shopping!
Warm sweets and drinks!
Can someone say a visit to the art gallery?
“Jihyun, I’d hold your hand but that sign said not to touch the artwork.”
“There’s no sign saying I can’t seduce the artwork, and yet here you are.”
And the whole time you’re snapping photos with your phone, while he’s coming up with more ridiculous Christmas phrases to smile to
“Say Santa’s pants!” “Merry Chrysler!”
Of course you use as many Christmas filters as possible
You’re an absolute dork and so is he
You tie up the date by gifting him a new scrapbook, totally blank for him to create new memories
He smiles and holds your hand in his
“MC, I’d like to thank you.”
“You’re welcome! I’m glad you like the scrapbook!”
He shakes his head
“I really appreciate the scrapbook. But –I guess what I’m trying to say is, thank you for giving me the opportunity to create more beautiful memories together. With you.”
He reaches out and strokes your cheek with his other hand
“You are the greatest gift of all. Thank you for choosing to stay with me.”
You throw your arms around him and he holds you close
“I love you, Jihyun. Merry Christmas~”
Saeran
He has never celebrated Christmas before
Maybe when they were kids, when Saeyoung and him would have a little celebration on their own after their mother had fallen asleep
But not a proper celebration
Even worse, he has no idea where to take you for a date
And there’s always so many people everywhere
But he doesn’t want to keep you cooped inside the house as well, because he always makes you stay home
He’s getting frustrated and impatient because he couldn’t think of anything to do so he reluctantly asks his brother for help
And for once, Saeyoung doesn’t joke around and offers him legit advice
He takes you to an outdoor ice skating place
You make sure he’s bundled up because he gets sick easily
And he blushes when you wrap a scarf around his neck
Then you smile and slip your fingers through his and you two glide forward on the ice
Turns out, you loved ice skating
And he did not
Saeran lets go of your hand as he slips on the ice and falls flat on his butt
And you see his irritated expression and can’t help but bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing
You help him up and teach him how to skate and when he finally gets the hang of it, he starts enjoying himself
He also loves how you don’t let go of his hand
A kid suddenly cuts in front of you and you lose your balance and nearly fall but Saeran manages to catch you before you hit the ice
But then he glares in the kid’s direction and speeds towards the kid, who screams and tries to skate away
Saeran no ;;;
You stop him from killing telling off the kid, saying you’re alright
“Thanks, Saeran,” you say, smiling
“You’re my hero~”
Then you kiss his cheek and he turns red
Deep down he’s giddy and happy that you seem to be enjoying yourself
And he’s glad you chose to spend Christmas with him
Because you are the only he wants for Christmas
Vanderwood
Oh God, he hates Christmas
The carols, the gift giving, the freaking weather
Don’t even get him started on the fucking weather
It makes his hair frizz okay
But he finds out that you love Christmas
Fuck Fuck FUCK
He has no idea what to do or where to take you okay
And worse, he has a mission lined up a week before Christmas and he didn’t know when he’d be back
He makes sure to finish his mission quickly though
Lol he was a monster on the mission, slaying enemies left and right without even blinking –all he could think of was coming home to you and spending Christmas with you
Hohoho here comes my taser motherfuckers
When he comes home on Christmas Eve, just an hour before midnight, he’s ready to apologize
But when he steps inside, he hears soft Christmas music playing
And there’s a meal set up on the dining table
A meal for two
“You made it!”
He grins and drops his bag, opening his arms wide as you run to him and throw your arms around him
And he holds you fiercely in his arms, breathing you in
God he loved you so much
“I’m home, baby.”
And then he’s kissing you and one thing led to another~ if you know what i mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
You’re both curled up on the floor by the couch, wrapped around each other’s arms with a thick blanket over your bodies
And he kisses your forehead, lazily rubbing a hand up and down your arm
“Sorry I was late, baby.”
You shake your head and smile up at him
“You got here just in time. You being home –being here with me on Christmas is the best present ever.”
And a blush creeps up on his cheeks
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be with than right here with you, MC.”
You kiss him and smile
“Merry Christmas, Vanderwood.”
He pulls you close, his heart overflowing with happiness
“Merry Christmas, MC.”
Christmas becomes his favorite holiday~
There you have it! :) Sorry this took so long! Things have been crazy lately ;;; But I promise I’m writing everyday :)) And I’ll post more soon! :)
Check out @rainydayswriter‘s works, guys!!! She is AWESOME
Check out my other works here!
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!!!! :D
#mystic messenger#christmas#fluff#mysme#mysmess#mm#hc#headcanon#christmas headcanon#mm hc#mysme hc#mystic messenger hc#collab#yoosung#zen#hyun ryu#jumin#jumin han#v#jihyun#saeyoung choi#saeyoung#seven#luciel#saeran#saeran choi#unknown#vanderwood#vanderbae#merry christmas!
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Just Like You, Only Sweeter
Words: 1976
Pairing: wouldn’t u like to know jk it’s Thomas Jefferson x Reader with a surprise
World: Modern AU
Warning: Sexy, sexy things in here mhm (not smut tho, but pretty suggestive), also profanity and actual dickbaggery, angst
A/N: Hey hey hey hey hey so on this episode of “shouldn’t be writing this because I have requests to fill but still wrote it anyway” So I’ve been listening to my old music playlist back in 2010-ish? and ya kno how teenagers are w their edgy music and #Relatable lyrics. This fic was the love child of listening to All American Rejects and Fall Out Boy. Points if you can guess which songs inspired these lmao
Thomas groaned in pleasure, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you peppered kisses down his jaw to his neck. God, you were beautiful. So, so beautiful.
“Who has to know?”
You murmured against his skin as you mounted him, your black-lined eyes half-lidded and the stink of alcohol unmistakably heavy on your breath.
He knew this was just a one-night stand. A rebound. And he was perfectly fine with that. Your ex, Alexander Hamilton, had actually grown a pair big enough to come crawling back to Eliza, the woman he cheated on, leaving you to rot in your head for weeks on end.
You had planned on sulking around your apartment watching Friends reruns and binging on ice cream. Thomas had suggested getting drinks.
“He told me he would make it right with me.” You had sobbed into your multicolored drink, tears smudging your mascara somewhat. Your dark-skinned companion tried not to stare too much, but found that he couldn’t help it. You were mesmerizing even when you looked like a blotchy raccoon. His heart clenched. “He said he envisioned a future with me! A family an-and kids!”
“Hamilton’s an idiot, [F/Name].” He murmured matter-of-factly, instinctively using his thumb to wipe your tears away. He felt her skin jump at the contact. “He had the most scintillating woman in New York City, and he let it go. It’s his loss.”
His breath hitched when you looked up at him through damp lashes, still managing to look enticing despite crying for over three hours. His mind went into overdrive, desperately trying to keep the trickle of feelings at bay.
He watched with controlled interest as you worried your bottom lip, his heart beat pounding loudly in his ears. He can’t allow himself to give in. It was better this way, he chanted in his head like a mantra.
But oh, how her eyes shined iridescent against the dark.
“Would you have done the same, Thomas?” You whispered, leaning into him ever so slightly. His control was hanging by a thread. “Would you have left me like he did?”
He stared into your eyes once more, losing himself in them as he all but gave in to his desires.
“Never.” He whispered, voice strained and thick with want.
You closed the gap between you two, pressing your lips hungrily against his. You needed the friction, the intimacy. You wanted to feel wanted. And when you reached completion late into the night, your head thrown back in bliss as his hands still gripped your hips tightly, you’d like to think you were.
You never saw him around in the weeks following your drunken tryst. It was as if he never existed. He wasn’t in his apartment, or his favorite bar, or the library. You even tried visiting his workplace, but all you got was his secretary telling you he had opted to work from home.
Oh.
The silent walk back to your apartment was filled with sniffling and attempts to choke back your sobs, going through your memories of that night.
Did you say anything wrong? Was the sex bad? He had seemed so eager to bed you, and the morning after was spent lazing around and cuddling his apartment. What did you do? What changed that night after you went home?
You tried to ignore the tightening in your chest as you reached the front steps of your apartment building, but there was only so much you could do to reign in your emotions. Collapsing onto the steps, you sobbed uncontrollably into your hands.
Why is this happening to you? Didn’t Thomas like you? Didn’t Alexander like you? Did anyone like you?
“[F/Name]?”
You looked up from your pathetic, curled position, tears still streaming down your cheeks. Your heart seemed to heal instantly as you recognized those head of curls.
“Thomas.”
Thomas Jefferson was not an emotionally intelligent man.
He was cunning, and crafty, and wise beyond his years. But you’d be damned to think he was, in any way, in complete control of anything that doesn’t involve his head.
After your pity romp, he was a mess. The moment you kissed him had opened the dam that held all the things he felt for you at bay. It flooded out into every kiss, every stroke, every breathy moan he made because of your ministrations. It seeped into everything he touched.
And he was terrified.
He wanted to be with you every second of every day so badly it hurt. He wanted to care for you, support you. Be the reason for your smiles and laughter. The need to be yours never used to be this intense. It was jarring.
So he left.
It was much easier to be your friend. He could occasionally flirt with you without consequence, and you could spill every thought and opinion to him when even Alexander had trouble wheedling it out of you. Nothing was complicated, nothing was at stake. You both worked better that way. It was better that way.
Wasn’t it?
A month had passed, then two, into his self-imposed isolation and he began to doubt himself. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he had let himself overthink your situation. But…
God, he was a jackass.
He had left you. You came to him in your hour of need and he took advantage of it. He left you for dead after being so intimate with you. You needed him, you were in pieces. And he left you.
You probably hated him. No, he was sure you hated him. With everything he’s done, he wouldn’t be surprised. He left you after explicitly saying he wouldn’t.
He’s definitely fucked up this time.
Grabbing his jacket, he made his way to the door. He didn’t know what he was going to do, or how to do it, he just knew he needed to make this right somehow.
You nervously picked at the assortment of flowers on your lap, your stomach churning with anticipation and nerves. Of course, you’ve practiced this whole thing plenty of times before. But actually being here, today, was definitely more than you bargained for.
“Hey,” You turned your head to acknowledge the voice, smiling slightly as you see the familiar face of James Madison. “It seems like almost everyone is here.”
The smile on your face was shaky at best, the anxiety in your eyes shining through. “Yeah? That’s-that’s good…”
James smiled at you reassuringly before stepping into the backseat with you. His warm presence enveloped the car, giving you a slight confidence boost. “You’re nervous.”
You laughed. “Is it that obvious?”
“It’s normal.” He answered, taking the bouquet from you before you pluck all the petals out. “What’s worrying you?”
“God,” Exhaling, you looked up, tears inexplicably welling in your eyes. “I don’t- This is insane. I never would have thought…”
The man beside you simply nodded in response, letting you have the moment to express yourself.
“Two years ago, I never would have imagined…” You trailed off, fanning your face in an attempt to blink back tears. “He’s everything I’ve hoped for and more, James. I-I’m scared that I’ll wake up and find myself on the front steps of my old apartment again…”
You were seated on a park bench, sun shining like a halo on you, as Thomas watched you laugh. Your hair fluttered gracefully as you threw your head back. He smiled, memorizing every curve and hollow of your face. He reveled in the fact that he was right. You were beautiful through and through.
His hand wandered slyly to your thigh, making you turn to him with an unreadable gaze. He smiled innocently, those pearly whites of his shining unabashedly. You rolled your eyes as your hands found his and laced your fingers together.
How could he have been that lucky?
He leaned over and whispered in your ear, causing you to turn red and shift in your seat. He pulled away to look at you, his eyes darkening with desire. Oh, how he wished to be the friction in those jeans you wore.
You leaned in to press a passionate kiss on his lips, your hands coming up to cradle his cheeks. He pulled you closer by the waist, nibbling on your bottom lip gently before separating.
With the grace of a cat, he pulled you up with him and brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face, murmuring how he wanted to get you home and in bed as soon as possible.
How could you have been this lucky?
James led you to the huge cathedral doors, your gown flowing easily around you, while the veil you wore drifted to and fro at every move you made.
“Are you ready, [F/Name]?” You looked up as a fresh pool of tears made its way to your eyes.
“Thank you, Jemmy… For everything.” You whispered, throwing your arms around him in a tight, tearful hug. He returned the hug just as fiercely, your head tucked under his chin.
“I would never leave you alone like that, [F/Name].” He murmured, his voice thick with emotion and an edge you couldn’t describe. “Now go, Mulligan is waiting to walk you down the aisle.”
Nodding, you reluctantly let go of the man you had quickly considered a best friend within the two years you’ve known each other for. Straightening your back, you walked through the cathedral doors, entering the small lobby just before the main hall.
“And [F/Name].” James called out, causing you to turn slightly while Hercules fussed with your gown. “Remember, this is real. It’s real, and you deserve this.”
You beamed at him, watery and emotional, before being led away.
James stared into the cathedral, watching you float down the aisle like a cloud. Your back was turned to him but he could feel the happiness radiating from you as you passed friends and family.
A few seconds later, without as much as a turn of his head, he called out a name that hasn’t crossed his lips for a while now.
“Thomas.”
Without missing a beat, a figure loomed behind the smaller man before taking his place beside him.
“James.”
The Virginian, like his companion, stared straight into the cathedral, watching you finally reach the man who had helped you pick up the pieces. The man he saw making you laugh that day at the park. The lucky bastard who now gets to spend his days with you, build a family with you, grow old with you. All the things Thomas could now only dream about.
“Gilbert will make her happy.” James said, as if hearing the other man’s thoughts. They always did have an unnerving knack for reading the other. Thomas rolled his eyes.
“He has the most scintillating woman in New York City. Of course he’ll make her happy. He’d be an idiot not to…”
The other man said nothing, merely coughing into his handkerchief as silence fell over the pair of them.
“You know why she’s taken such a liking to him, right?”
Thomas opted not to reply, instead choosing to watch you recite your vows. He knew you were beautiful even on a normal day, but today you were simply breathtaking, even from his perch by the large, ornate doors. What he wouldn’t do to be the man standing at the altar with you.
“You left a bad taste in her mouth, Thomas.” They continued to watch the wedding, watched as you exchanged rings, watched as the priest gave people like Thomas a chance to speak. “Gilbert… He’s just like you. Only, sweeter.”
Silence filled the air of the cathedral as they waited for anyone to protest the union.
Thomas finally turned to James, his eyes brimming with tears as a few already trailed down his cheeks.
“I know.”
#hello darkness my old friend#why am i like thiiis#hamilton#thomas jefferson x reader#thomas jefferson imagine#thomas jefferson#lafayette x reader#lafayette imagine#marquis de lafayette#hamilton imagine#hamilfics#hamfics#hamiltrash
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Multiverse Overload
It seems unreasonable to think I was finishing up Nightmares & Dreamscapes yesterday morning and a little over 24 hours later I am back, having just finished one of King’s longest novels, Insomnia, in one cycle of sleep. But here I am. Let’s get into it.
I suppose I wasn’t kidding that I was ready for a novel but I didn’t realize how hungry for this story it was. Or maybe call it boredom - 3 day weekends with 95+ degree temperatures don’t lend themselves to my pasty irish ass spending any time anywhere other than the couch.
I knew little of this story headed in. Actually a little embarrassed to say I thought it somehow related to the Christopher Nolan movie of the same name. Once I cracked the spine and read the teaser copy, I knew this was not true. Also, I was worried. Really, really worried. Exhibit A:
Ralph Roberts is seeing some strange happenings in Derry, Maine.
He sees auras around human beings that show him the horror threatening them.
He sees a nice young research chemist like Ed Deepneau turn into a savage wife beater.
He sees Charlie Pickering with blood in his eyes and a gleaming knife in his hand.
And he sees three little bald doctors in the homes of the dying - and he begins to suspect who they really are.
No wonder Ralph stays awake all night. You would too.
INSOMNIA
“JFC, if I’m stepping into another Tommyknockers I’m going to scream” I said to the cat, who was chasing a bug around the hotel room and has no fucking clue what the Tommyknockers are. Little bald men. Aliens for sure, right?
Well I was, thankfully, wrong in my assumptions. Making an ass outta u & me, or however that old saying goes. I’ve complained before about whoever is responsible for writing these teasers, deceiving readers into believing that Gerald’s Game was a spooky bedtime story, Pet Sematary scared King himself, or that Insomnia is about a dude with, well, insomnia.
In reality, this book is as close to a Dark Tower book as it could get without actually being one. I’d rack it against The Talisman in Dark Tower adjacency, and although not as an enthralling tale as The Tailsman, a good chapter in the mythology all the same.
Ralph Roberts, a senior citizen residing in our favorite vacation destination, Derry, Maine, loses his wife to cancer and spills into a depression as one would do when your companion of 45 years is snuffed out of the living. What begins as minor bouts of insomnia quickly evolves into an inability to catch more than 2 hours a night. As someone who has suffered from depression-induced insomnia and sleep paralysis, a terrifying phenomenon I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, I feel for Ralph. Sleep deprivation is no joke, even if you’re awake watching Arrested Development for the 400th time at 3am. Ralph’s understandably exhausted, and assumes his mind is going when he starts seeing brightly colored auras surrounding humans, objects, street lights, you name it.
(Side story: Once I went on a date with a guy who - after I expressed discomfort in discussing the difference between irony and paradox 5 minutes into our first date - told me I had an unclean aura. I told him to go fuck himself (certainly something someone who’s aura is a little dirty would say) and he gathered his coat and left without a word. Anytime someone mentions auras I can’t help think of this guy - do you think he ever found a gal with a nice looking aura and the ability to discern the difference between irony and paradox? We will never know.)
In any case, Ralph does find himself a lady by the name of Lois, who in fact, does have a real pretty aura. And turns out she’s caught the insomnia and can see the auras too, along with other things that most humans can’t process. Turns out insomnia in Derry can flip a switch to entering worlds that aren’t our own.
Without going too far down the rabbit hole that is the plot of this novel (which squarely lies in the top ten of longest King tomes - say that 10x fast), Ralph and Lois team up on a quest against evil, as so many of King’s protagonists do. I was obviously committed to learning how it ended as I stayed up past my bedtime last night and reached for my paperback copy before I had even poured myself a cup of coffee this morning.
The key conflict in Derry of 1994 revolves around a war between pro-lifers and pro-choicers over a feminist speaking in town about women’s rights. Probably the hardest part of this story to swallow - the realization that 25 years later we’re still having the same argument in America with similar violent and tragic results.
This book is not without it’s faults - King called it “stiff & trying too hard” which is pretty accurate. It is way too long. It reads like a first draft that probably needed a stronger editor hand (or two or three) before publication that it just did not get. King’s ability to paint a picture in your mind is, as always, on point; but the writing describing the aural states seem to clog up the storytelling every ten pages or so. The initial painting of these ethereal halos was beautiful; after the 15th or so description they were just in the way. The use of italics for dialogue was distracting; I had to work to keep my eyes from skimming to the dialogue lines and ignoring the rest of the text on the page.
But it also had so many of my favorite things. For one, the connections to other King stories was strong in this one. Like when I am watching Castle Rock, it makes me feel like an insider to notice the little things that connect King’s worlds together. Like a hipster that listens to a band “before they were cool” - don’t you hate those people? Yeah me too. But here we are.
Derry, and all it’s history covered in depth in the pages of IT is rehashed here. We have mentions of the sewers, the Black Spot Fire, the post-Pennywise storm of 1985. The darkness that hangs over this town lingers, even though we were hoping that the Loser’s Club vanquished the darkness in the mid 80s.
Because something else dark is connected to Derry. The Dark Tower lore sits squarely and open here; we see Roland in children’s drawings and travel between worlds like in The Drawing of The Three. We also are introduced to The Crimson King; the guardian of The Dark Tower, Roland’s adversary and ruler of the highest level. He appears here in our world first as Ralph’s dead mother then as a catfish. I mean, IT was a clown living in a macroverse created by a barfing turtle, so I guess that all makes sense. We also learn Ralph and Lois’s quest is to save a young boy named Patrick Danville, who we’re told is very important in the land-o-the-tower. God, I can’t wait to get to the fourth Dark Tower book.
Other than the obvious references to IT and the DT books, we get a quick mention of the untimely death of Gage Creed in Ludlow. There is also a mention of “Aunt Sadie” in Dallas, and my mind wandered to lovely Sadie Dunhill of 11/22/63. I don’t know if King had the foresight (or the initial manuscript) to reference a character that wouldn’t hit the bookstores for another 17 years, but if so, Bravo Mr. King. Bravo.
By far my favorite photo of King that I’ve randomly stumbled upon on the internet.
My remaining questions are really around the nature of Derry - how can Pennywise and The Crimson King exist (in whatever universe) in or around Derry, without bumping into each other? Why so much evil in this one little town? Are they somehow connected? Are they the same person? Like my friend that claimed my aura needed a good washing, we may never know.
7/10
First Line: No one - least of all Dr. Litchfield - came right out and told Ralph Roberts that his wife was going to die, but there came a time when Ralph understood without needing to be told.
Last Line: And she saw, the long white scar on his right forearm was gone.
Adaptations:
None to speak of - another one of King’s works that’s been discussed in depth but never pushed into any kind of actionable development. All the best I think - a movie version could very easily veer into LSD trip territory.
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Fading light -Part 2- 5/6
PART ONE - Chapters 1-6
PART TWO - Chapter one Chapter two Chapter three Chapter four
PART TWO
CHAPTER FIVE
I am so much later than I wanted to be and guilt prickles at me as I make my way along one of the endless corridors that leads to Scully’s room. If it weren’t for the numbers on the doors, there would be absolutely no way of differentiating one floor from the next. My hand is throbbing sickeningly beneath the piss poor attempt I have made to dress and bandage it with the one fully functioning hand I have at my disposal. First aid isn’t exactly my strong point, because after all, Scully is the doctor in this partnership and I’ve lost count of the amount of times she has had cause to patch me up over the years when I’ve fallen headlong in to one dangerous situation after another.
Mostly though, the injuries have either been caused by the actions of another or by my own occasional blindness to the risks surrounding me as I jump my size tens straight in to danger.
Self-inflicted injury is rare. Although not unheard of for me when the pressure builds inside and demands release. Oh yeah, I’ve punched a few walls in my time and in the battle between man and solid object, solid object has usually prevailed; but I’ve generally been able to hide it from Scully. Who wants to admit to their partner that they have lost control just enough to make bruising their knuckles preferable to the kind of mental castigation I had become so adept in meting out to myself? That the prospect of physical pain was far, far less damaging than its mental counterpart?
But smashing a mirror with my bare hand? That’s a new one on me and I was actually taken aback by how much it fucking hurt. And as I thrust my bleeding hand under the cold tap in Scully’s bathroom, the sight of the blood from the deep cuts mingling and swirling with the water as it circled down the drain caused me to almost lose the precarious hold my stomach had on the crappy hospital food I had shovelled down earlier in the day.
I was exhausted, emotionally and physically from the events not just of the previous day, but of the weeks and months that came before and perhaps for the first time I admitted to myself that I was precariously balancing on the edge of reason. That at any point I would come crashing down and God knows who I might bring down with me. I had already proven today that my thought process was pretty screwed, first with that cancer ridden bastard and more crucially, with Scully’s Mother. I should have at least tried to justify Scully’s need to protect her from the worst that this disease could bring. To make her understand that this is Scully's attempt in some way to preserve a memory of her that wasn’t tainted by blood and pain and the desperate fear of death.
For Scully I should have made her understand.
But instead I had just stood there and said nothing. Not one fucking word of comfort did I offer a woman who, like her child, has remained allied to me even in the face of so much heartbreak.
Bill Jr once stood before me and called me a sorry son of a bitch; and I hadn’t found any good reason before or since to disagree with him, least of all today.
But despite the dread I feel at facing Scully, who, sick or not will surely require an explanation as to why my battered knuckles are swathed in a loosely tied bandage that the blood had continued to seep slowly through to bloom like a red rose on the cloth surface, there is one small light on my horizon, a light as always that came straight from her.
A call as I was engaged in trying to pack a bag for her. News that she was being moved out of the ICU and in to a general ward. Her vitals were all good. Oxygen saturation levels back within normal range. And while she still felt tired and nauseous, a few hours sleep had more or less returned her back to normal. Or at least whatever passed for normal these days.
But it was good news. The best news I could have hoped for given the circumstances and I had grabbed hold of it and held on, because it meant we were one step closer to her coming home. That this time, the darkness had been held at bay and whether we held it back for a week or a month or a year, each small victory was precious and to be quietly celebrated; small battles to be won even if we would eventually lose the war. And I would take each of those battles and store them away so we might draw strength from them the next time. Because, while I’m unsure of some things, I do know with a certainty that almost swallows me whole, that there will be a next time. That the battles will keep on coming until eventually the fight becomes too great and the battle too exhausting.
But for now, for now, we are winning.
And I will hold on to that.
I’m so deep in thought that I walk straight past Scully’s room and have to backtrack a few feet. The door is slightly ajar but I still tap lightly to alert her to my presence. I think I expected her to be sleeping, or at the very least resting atop the bed. But in fact, she is standing at the window, forehead resting against the cool glass, as she observes the hustle and bustle of the grounds beneath her. The room is bathed in weak winter sunshine and it surrounds her body like a halo, blending the lines of her body in to an aura of white light; a perfect living silhouette against the bright light behind the glass. The effect is mesmerising, almost angelic. And I am quite literally rooted to the spot.
Scully is a deeply spiritual person. She holds her faith before her like a protective force and while i don’t share her belief I can appreciate what it means to her; to be able to draw on that same faith in much the same way I have always found my own particular faith in the truth. But just for a moment, I can appreciate what having Scully’s faith might mean; that even in the midst of so much darkness, the brightness of light will always prevail.
Dana Scully
My guiding light
And then she turns, smiling as she realises it’s me. She is perhaps the only person on this earth who has ever smiled at me like that when she sees me, a smile that affirms every single time I see it that I am wanted. That I am still worthy enough for someone to be pleased I am there with them.
I dump the holdall on the bed and cross the short distance that separates us, scrutinising her face carefully even as I cup my hands either side and drop a gentle kiss on her lips. She still looks tired, frighteningly pale, the billowing hospital gown she wears serving to make her look so much more fragile than she really is. And of course she is shoe-less. The thin hospital issue socks on her feet add nothing to her height and I try to force back the realisation of just how weakened she looks. But her eyes are clear. Those beautiful blue eyes that on occasion, have almost severed my head from my body when I’ve got myself in to a stupid situation; eyes that can change from blue steel to soft velvet dependent on her moods. Scully’s eyes, the windows to her soul and like me, the only part of herself that cannot lie, which is probably why in the past we have turned away from each other so many times. To hide truths from each other not ready to be spoken.
But today, now, I see nothing within them to mar their clear beauty. Her mind is peaceful. She isn’t in pain. I don’t need anything else.
But then as my lips track upwards, lingering for a moment on her forehead before I rest my chin on the crown of her head, dropping my hands to her waist as I tighten my grip on her, drawing her against me, I feel a subtle shift in her focus.
“Mulder your hand..”
Busted.
“It’s okay. It’s nothing.”
But she won’t be deflected, stepping out of the embrace as she catches hold of my wrist, brow furrowing as she takes in the blood soaked bandage, her doctors training, her need to nurture, to protect immediately rising to the fore and not for the first time I can’t help but think what an amazing Mother she would have made. But that chance has been taken from her. Like so many other hopes and dreams have before.
I once told Scully that I had never seen her as a Mother before.
But now that she can’t have it, sometimes it’s all I see.
She guides me to the bed and pushes me gently in to a seated position, her deft fingers unwrapping the bandage that has loosened since my clumsy application. And she frowns as it becomes obvious that with each layer she removes, the more blood is apparent. Until finally the bandage is off, discarded carelessly on to the floor below and I can’t help a strangled hiss as her fingers press around the edges of the deepest wound. An inch long, deep cut that starts at the base of my index finger and curves its way in a near perfect half moon around the knuckle of my middle finger. The skin at the top of the knuckle is missing and I am suddenly struck by the way it resembles a question mark.
“Mulder this needs stitching. What did you do?”
I refuse to look at her, ashamed suddenly that in the midst of everything she is fighting; her focus is for me and me alone.
“Would you believe me if I told you your bathroom cabinet fell on to my fist?”
I try to keep my voice light but obviously my pathetic attempt doesn’t fool her for a second because her eyes are suddenly so filled with sorrow I could scream.
I allow her to draw me towards her, feel her hand cool on the back of my neck tracing circles with her thumb, and even though I am aware always of that tiny ridge of scar tissue, she doesn’t notice. And for that I am infinitely thankful.
“I’m sorry Mulder.”
Her admission is unexpected because I can’t think of a single thing she has to be sorry for. Until....
“My Mom came by. She told me what happened.”
And then I understand.
“I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I’m sorry.”
I nod, keeping my eyes closed as I rest my face against the soft pillow of her breast. I am so tired I just want to remain there forever. Safe, protected, fulfilled in the arms of the woman who makes the very universe make sense to me. She doesn’t mention my other visitor and I can only assume that Maggie had more important things to discuss with her.
Maybe I will tell her later.
Probably I won’t.
“It’s okay Scully.” I say, even though nothing is really okay right now.
I feel her lips press in to the crown of my head and she remains there for a few seconds, breathing in the scent of my recently washed hair. And I’m not surprised by her whispered entreaty.
“Lets go home Mulder. I just want to go home.”
XXXX
Despite Dr Zuckerman’s protestations to the contrary, Scully had refused to be deflected. I could have told him he was wasting his time even as he quietly laid down all the reasons why it would be better for her to remain in the hospital just for one more night. One more night to ensure she was strong enough to return home.
He obviously had no concept as to just how strong this woman really is. And while I know Scully holds him in great regard, both as her Doctor and as a human being, she had made up her mind. Eventually though, she had reached a small compromise – she would remain resting in her room for as long as it took me to be processed through the ER and to receive treatment on my injured hand. He had raised his eyebrows questioningly when faced with the jagged mess of cuts and bruises that criss- crossed my bloodied knuckles and I had almost snorted out loud when Scully explained that the damn bathroom cabinet had fallen off the wall. Sometimes, just sometimes, she is so damn adorable I could cry with laughter at some of the things she says. It was one of the reasons I fell in love with her I think. Her ability to deliver the most outrageous reasoning while maintaining a perfectly straight face.
So I had obediently made my way down to the ER and tried to patiently wait it out as I was put through the rigours of the system; triage, X-Rays, stitches and a further wait at the hospital pharmacy to collect antibiotics to stave off infection. And it was over 4 hours before we were finally able to leave.
Scully refused point blank to leave in a wheelchair. She was perfectly capable of walking she insisted and the harried nurse finally shrugged in a ‘suit yourself’ kind of way and left us to it.
As we left the main building, I glanced at our reflections in the window. Scully was dressed now in the clothes I had brought from home for her; dark blue jeans, a soft cream turtleneck sweater and her brown suede jacket. And just for a second, I could pretend she wasn’t sick at all. The holdall was slung over my shoulder, held lightly in place by my injured hand. It hurts like hell but it means my other hand is free to entwine fingers with Scully. Her hand feels warm in my palm and it’s a good feeling.
We stop briefly outside the doors, breathing in the chill air, our breaths turning to vapour, mingling together for just an instant before disappearing up in to the darkness of night and as her fingers tighten slightly I stop and look down at her.
“You okay?”
She smiles at me then, and it’s a smile that is tinged with sadness, because we both know she isn’t okay. Not really.
But then her expression clears, her eyes catching the light from the lamps that border the hospital entrance.
“You promised me cake right?”
I laugh.
“Yeah. I promised you cake. And candles. Lots of candles.”
“And ice cream?”
“Sure if you want.”
Scully nods, considering my words.
“Cake makes everything okay Mulder”
And I think that tonight at least, she might just be right.
Continued chapter 6
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Innocent Until : Chapter 3
Also on AO3
The 100
Murphamy
Explicit
Summary:
Sequel to Proven Guilty
Bellamy's a cop who got the love of his life falsely arrested, Murphy's a journalist who's just trying to piece his life back together after the aftermath of his ex-boyfriend turned serial killer's killing spree, that he'd ended up in jail for. His relationship with Bellamy died when he locked him away, or at least, he thought it had, but now, two years later, after a chance meeting in a coffee shop, they decide to give it another try. But Bellamy's got a big case that he has to go undercover for, just as his relationship starts going well. Will they last this time around? Will Bellamy survive this case? Will Mbege discreetly poison Bellamy? Maybe, but maybe not.
Beginning
<- Previous Chapter
“So, any luck yesterday?” Mbege asked as he put away the last of the dishes. They’d finished lunch and were ready to start tackling more wedding planning as soon as Craig and Drew woke up. They’d stayed up all night playing Halo and had crashed around eight that morning, so they’d decided to let them sleep for a while. Once they were up, they could focus on the wedding, but for now, they may as well work on other projects, like finding Murphy an apartment and a job.
It wasn’t that Mbege minded Murphy staying with them, not at all, but Murphy seemed hellbent on finding a place before the wedding because he was afraid things would be awkward after Craig and Mbege were married. It didn’t matter how many times they assured him it wouldn’t be, he didn’t budge. He was going to move out and get his own place sometime soon. He had to, he missed his independence, and no matter how much he loved his friends, he needed his own space again, it was like a stepping stone to rebuilding his life.
Murphy sighed and made his way into the living room, flopping down on the couch before answering, “Not good. I can’t seem to find a decent place that’s in my price range and as for jobs, well, nobody wants to hire a murderer, ya know?”
He had a budget, a small one, and finding a place that he didn’t have to share with rats and roaches on that budget was hard as hell. He’d have better luck if he had a job, because then he’d have a higher budget, but no paper in town wanted to hire a murderer, falsely accused or not. He knew how word got around, too. It was that bitch Alie. She’d spread the news of his arrest to every paper in town so that he couldn’t get a job. She was cruel and horrible, and he hated her with every fiber of his being. Why she couldn’t just fuck off and leave him alone, he didn’t know.
But, even so, he was determined to find a job and an apartment somewhere within the next month and a half. He’d rebuild his life, it was slow progress, but he would do it. It would just take some effort and a little bit of faith, like Jaha always told him, as stupid as it sounded.
“How about that one place on eighth, you went there yesterday, right?” Mbege asked, taking a seat next to Murphy and settling in so he was facing him.
“Well, not exactly…” Murphy trailed off. He hadn’t finished his apartment search because of Bellamy, not that he regretted it for a second. He could still feel Bellamy’s hands on his skin, it was burned into his memory, he’d never be able to forget it and all he wanted was more. No, being with Bellamy was definitely worth missing out on an apartment viewing.
“What's that supposed to mean?” Mbege asked, raising an eyebrow. Murphy had been excited to see that place, it was a little over budget, but it was nice and wasn’t a studio apartment, which was good, because Murphy needed more space.
“It means I may have spent the day with Bellamy...?” Murphy tried to force a smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. He knew how Mbege felt about Bellamy, and he knew he was in for a lecture, but dammit, he loved Bellamy, more than he had ever loved anyone, romantically, at least, so it didn’t matter what Mbege thought. He was in love and he was going to hold onto it for as long as he could, which, if he was lucky, may very well be forever, the thought of which sent a wave of butterflies loose in his stomach.
“With Bell- John fucking Murphy what the hell is wrong with you?” Mbege demanded, sputtering. What the hell was wrong with Murphy? Had he hit his head? Had he forgotten what Bellamy had done to him? How stupid could he be?
“Lots of things,” Murphy mumbled, picking at a loose thread on his jeans. He knew Mbege would be mad, he’d prepared himself for it, but faced with the look of disappointment and exasperation he currently wore, Murphy felt like an idiot. Which he probably was, if he was honest. Bellamy had screwed him over royally, but even so, Murphy had given him a second chance. He loved him, he couldn’t just lose him forever. He’d regretted letting him walk out of that prison for the past two years, he wasn’t just going to let him slip through his fingers a second time, no matter what he’d done.
“No shit. Is that- That's who you've been dating?” Mbege asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was insane. This whole thing was insane. Had Murphy forgotten the week he’d spent curled up on the couch, crying his eyes out? Had he forgotten how he’d lost his job, his apartment, his reputation, everything? Because Mbege hadn’t. He remembered exactly what shape Murphy had been in and he’d swore he’d never let that happen to his little brother again. Ever. But now, Murphy was going to get himself hurt all over again and there was nothing Mbege could do to stop it, because nobody was more stubborn than Murphy and if he thought he was in love, then nothing could change his mind. But that wasn’t going to stop Mbege from trying.
“Kinda,” Murphy admitted.
“Are you out of your mind?” Mbege nearly screeched. He took a deep breath, calming himself, he didn’t want to wake up Craig and Drew.
“Probably.” He was probably clinically insane, actually. He really needed to see a shrink at some point. Not just over this, but over everything. Maybe once he had insurance he would, but that required a job first.
“He ruined your life!” Mbege burst out, his voice too loud. He pursed his lips and sighed, shaking his head at Murphy. “You lost everything.”
Murphy sighed, “I know that, but Begsy-”
“No, don't 'Begsy' me, John,” Mbege shook his head again. “You can’t do this to yourself. You deserve better and you know it. You can’t just keep giving people second chances, especially when they don’t deserve them.”
That wasn’t fair. Bellamy did deserve a second chance. He hadn’t meant to hurt Murphy, not really, and yeah, he had, but he had apologized, sincerely, and he’d done everything he could to make it right. He deserved a second chance. And even if he didn’t, Murphy loved him, so he’d give him that chance, and he’d trust him not to hurt him again. “What do you want me to do? It's not like I chose it. I love him and he's not going to hurt me again-”
“How do you know that?”
“I trust him not to.”
“You trusting him is exactly what got you into trouble the first time!” Again, he was too loud, but he figured that the Thomas brothers were too exhausted to wake up just because he raised his voice. Besides, maybe if he said it loud enough, Murphy would actually hear it.
“I know, okay? I know it's stupid and I'm an idiot, but I really do love him and it's all fucked up but he's trying, and I don't know if it'll work this time, but I know I want to try. I want to try, Mbege.” It could end terribly, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that it might not. It might end up being everything he ever wanted. It might be perfect, or well, maybe not perfect, but right. Bellamy was everything he needed, even if he hadn’t been looking for it when he met him. Even though it had gotten him hurt, he was glad he met Bellamy. He needed him in his life, he loved him, and that was enough reason to try again.
Mbege sighed, giving in, “I'll stock the freezer with ice cream.”
“It's not gonna end badly.” He had to believe it would work out. He had to believe it would go right, that Bellamy wouldn’t hurt him. He needed to believe that. He needed something good in his life, something stable, something that made all the pain he’d gone through worth it.
“And add goldfish to the shopping list.”
They fell into silence for a moment, Mbege fidgeting with the remote, flicking through stations without actually caring what was on.
“Are you mad at me?” Murphy asked after a moment, his voice quiet and apprehensive.
Mbege looked at him, concern etched on his face, but no trace of anger, “No, god no. I think you're a colossal idiot, but I'm not mad at you.”
“But you are mad at him.”
Mbege didn’t say anything, and that was enough of an answer for Murphy.
“So, I guess I shouldn't bring him by the house anytime soon, then?” He didn’t want Bellamy getting killed.
“Oh, no. You're bringing him to dinner Saturday,” Mbege told him. At the very least, if Murphy was going to date him again, Mbege was going to put the fear of God into him. Maybe that would help things. Or at least make Mbege feel better about the whole thing.
“Don't kill him.”
“No promises.”
._-*-_.
Bellamy smiled to himself, thinking about Murphy and how well their last meeting had gone. Sure, he’d wanted to go slow, but he was more than happy that Murphy had had other plans. Just thinking about the faces Murphy had made or the sounds that came out of his mouth as Bellamy got him off had him ready to go again. Maybe he should call Murphy after work and see if he wanted to come over. There was so much more he’d wanted to do to him, but they hadn’t had the time. Plus, Bellamy was more than interested in exploring exactly how kinky Murphy was. He was more than willing to indulge him in anything.
He steered his thoughts back towards the case as he entered the doorway to Monty’s computer lab, ready to find a lead, or, if he was lucky, enough for a warrant. Flash drive in hand, he walked into the room, expecting to see Monty typing away at his keyboard, no doubt doing something of questionable legality. He was pretty sure Monty had hacked into at least four government agency databases at least once in his career.
Instead, however, he found him curled up on the couch in what looked to be the most uncomfortable pile of people ever, despite the content looks on their faces. He recognized Miller, that wasn’t unusual, everyone knew about their relationship, try as they might to hide it, but the other kid he didn’t know. He had dark hair and boyish features and he looked so peaceful nestled between Miller and Monty that Bellamy would have found it cute if not for the pressing matter at hand.
He cleared his throat, attempting to get Monty’s attention.
It worked as Monty’s eyes slowly opened, blinking at Bellamy in confusion. “What’s up?”
“I need you to go through a flashdrive for me. It’s important to my case.”
“It’s probably just your suspect’s porn collection, I’m calling it now,” Monty yawned, untangling himself from the other two, who hadn’t even stirred at Bellamy’s intrusion. He groaned, “I need a bigger couch.”
“So, who’s the kid?” Bellamy asked as he handed Monty the flashdrive.
“Bryan. He used to work nights, but they finally switched him to days, so his sleep schedule is off,” Monty explained, plugging the flashdrive into his computer.
“So, how long’s this been going on?”
“About a month. He’s sweet and charming and Miller fell for him first, but after a couple times meeting him, I had to agree he’s adorable, so we just kinda, added him. Polyamory is a glorious thing, you know.”
Bellamy snorted as he watched Monty go through the files, “What’s on it?”
“Files. Stuff like bank statements and money transfers and basically a shitton of financial records.”
“So, not porn?”
“Not porn. Just finance stuff. How boring,” Monty sighed. “Anyway, I don’t know if it’ll help your case, but it looks like this is all the records for the drug trafficking. However, they’re using shell companies and fronts, so it all looks legit. I can keep digging and see if I find anything suspicious, but I doubt it. These guys are good.”
Bellamy nodded, disappointed. He’d hoped to get a warrant. It looked like he was just going to have to catch them in the act. “Does Kane know?”
“About the flashdrive?”
“About Bryan.”
“Oh. Does Kane need to?”
“Yes.”
“The correct answer is ‘no.’”
“He's going to find out. He probably already has.”
“Probably, but until we know for sure, I'm going to pretend he doesn't,” Monty said with finality. He wasn’t going to tell Kane. He’d only complain about how his station was a circus and probably try to staple Monty to a desk or something. It didn’t sound pleasant.
“Well, I’m gonna go. Gotta file paperwork for a stakeout and see if our rat can tell me when the next drop is going down,” Bellamy said, turning to leave.
“Have fun!” Monty called with a wave as he made his way back to the couch.
Bellamy was walking back to his desk when his phone went off, and he smiled as he heard that stupid song play. He picked it up and looked at the text from Murphy.
Hey, uh, got plans for Saturday?
no why?
Mbege has invited you to dinner.
oh
Do you want to come?
Not really, Bellamy didn’t want to face Mbege’s wrath, but, he needed to. He had to apologize and try to get Mbege to understand. Plus, if he didn’t, Mbege would probably convince Murphy not to see him again, and the thought terrified Bellamy.
sure
Okay, great. I’ll let him know.
Bellamy sighed. He was going to invite Murphy over tonight, but he wasn’t sure that was a good idea anymore. He was too anxious now, and he didn’t want Murphy to see him as nervous as he was. He’d see it plenty on Saturday.
He had no idea what was going to happen, but all the possibilities terrified him. What if Mbege decided he wasn’t good enough for Murphy and made him break up with him? Logically, he knew Murphy could make his own decisions, but family was a big part of his life and if Mbege didn’t like him, Murphy was probably going to see his point eventually. He had to go and he had to be on his best behavior.
._-*-_.
Bellamy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, fighting the urge to run away and never look back. He’d been standing outside Mbege’s front door for the past five minutes trying to convince himself to knock. He just couldn’t work up the courage. No matter what, this evening was not going to go well, not at all. It couldn’t. No matter how much Murphy loved him, Craig and Mbege hated his guts, and with good reason.
Mbege was going to kill him and he deserved it. It didn’t matter that Murphy loved him, he was sure Mbege was going to do his best to convince Murphy not to date him, and Bellamy was terrified that Murphy would listen.
He let the breath out slowly and raised his fist, knocking on the door. Within seconds, the door opened and the same sandy blonde-haired man he’d seen with Murphy at the coffee shop stood there grinning at him.
“I wondered how long you’d stand out here before getting the balls to knock. Murphy and I were taking bets. He said you’d stand out here at least fifteen minutes and I said that you wouldn’t even knock, you’d just ditch us and run like at the coffee shop.”
“I was just-”
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Mbege is a scary guy, but I’m glad I lost the bet. Murphy’s right, now that I actually get a chance to see you when you’re not running away, you’re pretty,” Drew laughed.
“Don’t try to steal my man, Drew, I’ll kick your ass!” Bellamy heard Murphy call from the living room.
“I’m not interested in your man, bitch. I don’t need a dick, I’ve got my own!” Drew retorted, motioning for Bellamy to follow him into the house.
“It’s more fun with two, though,” Murphy shrugged, waving at Bellamy.
“I wouldn’t know, and I don’t plan to find out,” Drew shook his head, sitting down in one of the chairs.
Bellamy took a seat next to Murphy who immediately curled up next to his side, his feet tucked under him and Bellamy’s arm around him. He smiled down at Murphy before pressing a kiss to the top of his head, Murphy sighing in contentment. As much as he feared Mbege, he loved Murphy, so there was no way he was ever going to run, no matter how bad this evening ended up being.
“Fucking straight people,” Murphy muttered.
Drew just snorted and shook his head before turning his attention to Bellamy, “I’m Drew Thomas, by the way. Nice to meet you.”
“Bellamy Blake. You’re Craig’s brother, right?”
“Yeah. I’m here to help with the wedding. I can’t believe my little brother’s getting married. And to the grumpiest asshole on the planet, no less.”
“I heard that,” Mbege said, walking into the room. He stood next to Drew and crossed his arms, staring Bellamy down.
Craig was soon to follow him, wiping his hands on his t-shirt and leaving patches of water behind. “Dinner’s done.”
“Great! What are we having?” Drew asked, launching himself from the chair and flailing a little bit as he trailed to regain his balance while upright. “Please tell me it’s nachos.”
“Stir fry,” Mbege said without shifting his gaze.
Bellamy began to feel a little bit like a suspect. He wondered if this was how drug dealers felt when being interrogated by Kane. Except probably not, because Kane wasn’t as terrifying, and he couldn’t ruin their relationships with the people they loved as easily as Mbege could. All he could do was turn them into sock puppets. Bellamy kind of wished he could turn into a sock puppet right then.
“Not as cool, but okay,” Drew accepted it. “Let’s go eat, then. Come on, Mbege, he’s not going to spontaneously burst into flames just because you stare at him hard enough, the force is not with you on this one, leave him alone.”
Bellamy silently thanked whatever god was out there that Drew was there. At least he had one unbiased ally. He had Murphy, of course, but he was in love with him, and something told him that he didn’t really count in this war, for either side.
“Fine,” Mbege huffed, stalking away to the kitchen, Craig and Drew following suit.
Murphy rose from his seat and stretched, his shirt riding up to expose his lower back and Bellamy had to fight the urge to reach out and grab him and pull him into his lap. God, he wanted him so bad. It was like he’d had a taste and now he was hooked.
Murphy noticed his staring and smirked, “If you survive this and no one dies, then I’ll get you off in the back of your car tonight, sound good?”
Bellamy’s mouth went dry as he stood up, “Seriously?”
“No, I’m lying. I definitely don’t want your hand wrapped around my throat while you jerk us both off in the back of your car while any of my friends could walk by at any time and see. There’s nothing I want less,” Murphy snarked.
Bellamy felt heat stir in the pit of his stomach and he couldn’t help but reach out and pull Murphy close. He placed one hand on his neck and leaned down to kiss him, rough and hard and Murphy had to fight back a moan as Bellamy bit his bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood. This man was going to be the death of him, Murphy was sure of it.
“Bell,” Murphy breathed out when the kiss broke. “You can’t just do that. Not here.”
“Why not?” Logically, Bellamy knew why not, but he didn’t care.
“Because it’s not like I can just take you up to my bedroom on a whim. You can’t just get me all worked up and have no fucking follow through.”
“Now you know how I felt that day when you got me hard and then decided not to fuck me,” Bellamy told him, pressing kisses to his neck.
“Stop it, before somebody notices,” Murphy told him, but there was no real conviction in his voice. He wanted nothing more than for Bellamy to continue. Ever since Tuesday he’d been dying to have Bellamy’s hands on him again, but, unfortunately, this was neither the time nor the place.
“Hmm,” Bellamy hummed, pressing on last kiss to the corner of Murphy’s mouth before pulling away. “Fine. But Mbege’s going to murder me anyway, so I may as well die happy.”
“You’re not going to die. It’s going to suck and be awkward and he’s probably going to insult you, but you won’t die. I won’t let you,” Murphy assured him, taking his hand and pulling him into the kitchen.
“Took you long enough. What, you have to give your boytoy a pep talk, so he didn’t shit himself in fear?” Craig asked, venom in his voice. Gone was the happy, loud, slightly insane squirrel chaser and in his place stood a stone cold, venomous, angry replica of Craig. Craig had always made him a little worried, but this time he it was for a whole new reason, and he didn’t like it one bit.
“Fuck off,” Murphy rolled his eyes, taking a seat at the table.
Bellamy set down beside him in silence, unsure what to say. He knew this would suck, of course it would, but he hadn’t anticipated just how much. He’d liked Murphy’s family. They were a little crazy, but in a good way, and he’d found them to be enjoyable, but this time around, he felt completely unwelcome, despite the invitation he’d been issued.
“What, your pretty boy can’t handle the consequences of his mistakes? Poor baby,” Craig sniffled sarcastically.
“That’s fucking enough,” Murphy snapped. “You don’t get to act like a bitch just because you’re angry. I was the one who got hurt, not you, and if I can forgive him, so can you.”
“Do you, though?” Mbege asked, sitting down. “Do you forgive him? Honestly?”
Murphy hesitated for a second and Bellamy felt his heart sink. Of course, he knew Murphy had a right to not forgive him and asking him to was more than he deserved. Even so, it hurt knowing Murphy didn’t forgive him.
Finally, Murphy nodded, “I do, yeah. I forgive him. He didn’t mean for me to get hurt and he did everything he could to fix it, so yeah, asshole, I forgive him. Now grow the hell up, both of you, and stop being little bitches.”
Bellamy couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Murphy forgave him? He didn’t deserve that, not at all. He took Murphy’s hand under the table and gave him a smile. Murphy returned it and squeezed his hand, mouthing ‘I love you’ to him.
“Sorry,” Craig mumbled after a minute.
“Stop doing it and we’re good,” Murphy shrugged.
Craig nodded and reached for the bowl of rice on the table, putting some on his plate before passing it to Drew.
“Ah, yes, rice. I hate rice. Rice is disgusting. Here, you have it,” he said, passing it to Bellamy.
Bellamy snorted, and Drew gave him a smile, “Thanks.” He meant for more than just the rice and Drew nodded, understanding.
The dinner was nothing like the first time. There was no joking or banter, it was cold, and Bellamy swore he could feel them looking straight into his soul and he wondered if this was what it felt like when faced with the underworld’s council like in his books, being judged before they determined his fate. Knowing him, they’d sentence him to eternity in Tartarean hell, to be tormented until the end of time. And honestly? He deserved it. They were right to hate him. He even hated himself, which wasn’t really a new thing, but now he had another reason for it.
They finished eating in silence, Drew fidgeting in his seat, bothered by the quiet. He didn’t see why it was such a big deal. Murphy loved the guy, they should be supportive. But, then again, he hadn’t been around to see the fallout, so maybe they had a good reason to hate him. Still, it wasn’t fair of them to act the way they were. It was only going to hurt Murphy in the end if they didn’t support him. He’d have to talk to them about it later, he decided.
“So, anyone wanna play board games after this?” Drew asked, forcing himself to remain cheerful despite the tense atmosphere that surrounded them.
No one answered, so he shrunk in on himself, deciding it was best to keep quiet and not disrupt the proceedings until later. He volunteered to help Mbege clean the kitchen, which was good, because Bellamy wasn’t sure he’d be able to help again, even though his manners made him want to offer. It was best to avoid being alone with Mbege for the time being.
Craig, Murphy and Bellamy retreated to the living room where the silence continued, Craig biting his tongue to keep his comments to himself. He didn’t want to start a fight with Murphy, no matter how much he hated Bellamy. But seeing Murphy cuddling up to the man who had destroyed his life was nearly too much to take. Murphy could forgive him easily enough, but he was going to hold onto his grudge until Bellamy proved beyond a shadow of a doubt he was never going to hurt Murphy again. Then and only then would he think about maybe being nice to him. And even then, only maybe.
Once the dishes were done, Drew popped back up, a bowl of popcorn in one hand a few DVDs in the other. He set the popcorn down on the table and read out the titles for everyone, so they could choose. Nobody said anything, instead Mbege and Craig chose to stare Bellamy down some more, which was really getting old in Murphy’s opinion and Bellamy chose to focus all his attention on Murphy, running a hand through his hair as he lay in his lap.
“Just pick one, Drew,” Murphy sighed, glaring back at his friends.
“How about Home?” Drew smiled, opening the DVD case. “Nobody can be mad while watching Home. It’s impossible. Besides, we all need a break from wedding planning and a movie will fix everything. Home okay, Bell?”
Bellamy just shrugged, not really caring. All he wanted was to leave and take Murphy with him. On one hand, he loved being around Murphy and he could stay in this position forever, but on the other, he was getting tired of being stared at and eventually he was going to snap and make things worse. So, it was probably best if he just left. But only if he could take Murphy with him. He was sure he’d be more comfortable at his place where he wouldn’t have to listen to the lectures Bellamy was sure he was going to get when he was gone. But, as long as he didn’t fuck anything up, they wouldn’t be able to find anything new to complain about.
The movie fixed nothing, much to Drew’s disappointment, though Mbege and Craig finally stopped glaring at Bellamy and instead turned their attention towards each other, Craig having crawled in Mbege’s lap so that they could not so quietly shit talk Bellamy.
“I don’t know why he likes him. He’s just an asshole with a badge. And Murphy fucking hates cops, do you know how many cop cars he’s vandalized?”
“I have half a mind to throw a brick at his windshield, myself. While he’s in it.”
“Now there’s an idea,” Craig muttered, giving Bellamy another glare.
Bellamy just sighed. This was the tensest movie he’d ever watched. As cute as it was, it was no match for the hatred coming off of the two of them. He was beginning to wonder why they’d invited him if they were only going to glare at him. At the very least they could grill him about his relationship with Murphy or something. Anything. Hell, they could grill him about the one time in sixth grade when he’d stolen test answers for a girl he liked. He hadn’t been caught, but the guilt was enough to make him nearly turn himself in. Nearly. They could grill him about anything, as long as it broke the tension.
Finally, Craig let out a groan and got off of Mbege’s lap. “I’m done. Come on, Murphy, let’s go look at invitations. We’ve got to send them out by the end of next week, so we might as well order them now.”
Murphy sighed and looked up at Bellamy apologetically.
“It’s fine. Go,” Bellamy smiled down at him.
As Murphy raised up he pressed a kiss to Bellamy’s lips, keeping it chaste and sweet despite how much he wanted to put heat behind it just to show off in front of Craig and Mbege, just to prove how much he loved Bellamy, but he knew that would only cause problems, so he didn’t. He’d save all it for later tonight.
He stood and followed Craig towards the study, Drew crying out, “Take me with you!” as he followed after them.
A tense silence fell around Bellamy and Mbege, both of them having been left behind. Bellamy cleared his throat, trying to find something to say, “So, uh-”
“That damned little alien is fucking adorable,” Mbege said, cutting him off.
Bellamy just nodded, realizing Mbege didn’t want to make conversation.
But, it wasn’t really that. Mbege just didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to outright insult Bellamy, but he wanted to convey exactly how much he’d hurt Murphy, how much he’d fucked up, and why he didn’t trust him, without being a complete ass. He wanted to have a respectful conversation, but he wasn’t sure where to start. He didn’t outright hate Bellamy, not like Craig seemed to, but he didn’t trust him, especially not around Murphy. However, Murphy was stubborn. When he loved someone, he loved hard and nothing could change his mind. So, there was nothing Mbege could do. No matter how much he trashed Bellamy or how many lectures he gave, Murphy wasn’t going to budge. So, there was nothing he could do to keep him from getting hurt. He’d just have to make sure he was ready when Bellamy flaked out on him.
After having enough of the silence, Bellamy sighed. “Look, I know you hate me, and you have every right to, but I’m sorry. I really am. I regret what happened every day. I’m so sorry.”
Mbege looked at him for a long moment, not glaring, just studying him, like he was trying to understand him and why he’d done what he did. Then, “He cried for days, you know. He trusted you and you broke him. Because of you he lost everything, and yet for some reason he took you back.”
“I know, I know. And I have no idea why he took me back, but I love him and-”
“He loves you, right. It's so romantic, just like a movie. But it's not a fucking movie, it's real life and he worked so fucking hard and you ruined that,” Mbege snapped. Bellamy had ruined Murphy’s life. He’d destroyed everything he worked so hard for just because he was too selfish to tell him the truth. If he had been upfront about it, sure, maybe he would have lost Murphy, but instead, he’d kept it a secret and Murphy had lost everything. It wasn’t fair of Bellamy to treat this like some kind of romance novel when it wasn’t. As far as Mbege was concerned, they were in the middle of a horror story. A fucking Stephen King novel, minus the homophobic undertone and oversexualized female characters. It wasn’t going to end well for Murphy and as his brother, Mbege had the right to try to stop that, and if he couldn’t get to Murphy, maybe he could get to Bellamy, except it seemed he was just as hardheaded and stupidly deluded as Murphy was. Fucking idiots were perfect for each other.
Bellamy shook his head and held his hands out, trying to get Mbege to understand. “I tried to stop Kane-”
“Not hard enough. You let Murphy fall in love with you, you let him believe he had a future with you, and then you fucked it all up.” And it wasn’t fucking fair.
“I know, I wanted to tell him, but I just couldn't.”
“Why not? What was so important that you had to lie to him and let him get attached to you instead of being straight with him?”
“I didn't want to lose him.” It was so simple, so stupid, and Bellamy hated himself so much for it. If he’d only been straight about it, if he’d just trusted Murphy to understand, things would have been so different. Maybe he would have lost him, but it would have been worth it if it would have prevented all the pain Murphy went through, but Bellamy hadn’t thought about that. He’d only thought about himself and how much losing Murphy would hurt him. He hadn’t even considered what would happen to Murphy if things turned out like they had. He was so stupid.
“So, you broke him instead.”
Bellamy sighed and nodded, giving in, “I fucked up.”
“Yeah, you did,” Mbege said, leaning back in his chair. This wasn’t going to work, he could tell that right now. He wasn’t going to be able to convince them not to see each other. He wouldn’t be able to prevent the pain Murphy would go through this time. All he could do was try his best to be supportive and prepare for the inevitable.
“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I never wanted to hurt him, and I know I did but I never meant to and if I had known what would have happened I would have never started a relationship with him.”
“Yes, you would have.” Of course, he would have. It wasn’t just because he was selfish, but because, and Mbege really believed it, no matter how much he hated it, Bellamy really did love Murphy. Those two fools were destined for failure, but they just couldn’t help themselves. Mbege felt sorry for them. He knew what it was like to be in love, and he would have been happy for Murphy, if he were in love with literally anybody else.
“You're probably right.” Bellamy probably would have pursued a relationship with Murphy. He needed him in his life, he couldn’t bear the thought of going another day without, let alone the rest of his life. He’d been drawn to the boy since he met him, even though he’d hated him, it was the only reason he’d even spoken to him instead of ignoring him like he did ever other reporter. Something about him made him want to talk to him, even if it was just to call him a vulture and tell him to fuck off. It was no surprise he’d fallen for him, he was exactly his type. He was beyond perfect, every one of his flaws only made Bellamy love him more. Of course, he would have pursued a relationship with him, he just would have done things differently. He’d have told him the truth from the beginning and prevented this whole mess.
“Of course, I am.”
Bellamy chuckled and nodded. Mbege was quite wise for someone so young. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, but he spoke with the wisdom of a sage. Even though he hated him, Bellamy still found himself liking the guy. He was glad Murphy had someone like him in his corner, even if he was currently working against Bellamy.
After another moment of silence, this one much less tense than the last, Bellamy asked, “Are you going to punch me again?”
Mbege raised an eyebrow, “Should I?”
“Probably,” Bellamy admitted. He hadn’t done anything to deserve it this time around, but he still deserved a lot more than one punch for his mistakes last time.
Mbege just snorted and turned his attention back to the movie.
._-*-_.
“Fucking finally,” Murphy said, closing the door of the house behind him. “It took us a whole ten minutes to pick out the right invitations and then another twenty for Craig and Drew to argue about how he was treating Bellamy, during which time my opinion wasn’t allowed because I was quote unquote ‘biased.’”
Bellamy laughed and put his arms around Murphy, “Well, you kind of are.”
“That’s not the point! If anything, my opinion should count more because I’m the one dating you, which means I’m the one who has to undo any damage they do.”
“They didn’t do any damage.”
“Liar.”
“Okay, so there was a little damage done, but I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, but if they keep it up you’re just going to get tired of it and leave me,” Murphy sighed, resting his head on Bellamy’s shoulder. “I don’t want that.”
“That’s not going to happen, baby. Not ever. I love you, regardless of what they think. And I can take a lot more than that, honestly. I’m a cop, remember? Do you know how much shit suspects say to me on a daily basis? I’ll be fine. I’m not going to leave you just because they don’t like me,” Bellamy assured him.
“You promise?” Murphy asked quietly.
“I promise,” Bellamy nodded.
Murphy smiled and raised his head to kiss him, putting into it all the passion he’d held back throughout the day. His hands found Bellamy’s chest and worked at the buttons, trying to rid him of his shirt as quickly as possible.
Bellamy pulled back with a laugh, “You can’t just take my clothes off right here.”
“Then get in the car,” Murphy said, walking backwards towards Bellamy’s car. He didn’t stop until his back was pressed against the back end of it as he waited for Bellamy to unlock it. “Hurry the hell up.”
“Pushy, pushy. Since when are you the boss of me?” Bellamy asked, raising an eyebrow at him as he unlocked and open the car door. He didn’t get a chance to say anything else before Murphy was shoving him into the back seat and climbing in behind him.
“Look here, asshole, I’ve been fantasizing about you fucking me since last Tuesday. I’ve been horny all fucking week because of you and if you think I’m going to wait another fucking minute for you to do it again, you’re fucking nuts. Now get your fucking clothes off and fuck me,” Murphy demanded, pulling off his own shirt and straddling Bellamy’s hips. “Now.”
Bellamy chuckled, resting his hands on Murphy’s hips, “That’s not how this works, sweetheart. I’m in charge here, remember? And if you don’t behave, I’m going to cuff you to the grab handle, get you so worked up you’re begging me to let you come, and then I’m going to go back inside and play checkers with Drew until I think you’ve learned your lesson. Understand me?”
Murphy let out a whine, “Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, sir,” Murphy said, feeling heat stir in his groin. He needed Bellamy so badly and the thought of him tying him up and leaving him hot and bothered was too much for him. “Please, Bellamy, I need you to touch me.”
“Then take your pants off, baby,” Bellamy instructed.
“You don’t have to call me baby,” Murphy said, sliding off Bellamy’s lap and unzipping his jeans.
“What do you want me to call you, then?” Bellamy asked, watching Murphy. “Boxers, too. All of it off.”
“Yes, sir,” Murphy nodded, pulling off his shoes and clothes and letting them fall into a pile on the floorboard before turning back to Bellamy. “You’re still dressed.”
“I am. I’ll fix that,” Bellamy said, looking down at himself, he’d been so busy watching Murphy that he’d forgotten about himself. He began to take off his clothes, leaving his shirt on, though unbuttoned. When he was undressed enough, he turned back to Murphy. “So, what do you want me to call you?”
Murphy shrugged, looking anywhere but Bellamy, “I don’t know. Just, whatever you want to, I guess.”
“Murphy,” Bellamy ordered, taking Murphy’s chin in his hand and forcing him to look at him. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, not about anything. I already told you, I’ll give you whatever you want, and I mean that, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what it is. So, what do you want me to call you?”
Murphy struggled not to shrug again, “Just like, if you want, maybe-”
“Murphy,” Bellamy demanded, his voice harsh and rough.
That snapped Murphy out of it. He swallowed hard, “Whore?”
“You want me to call you a whore?”
“Or slut. Bitch, maybe. Whatever you want to, unless you’re uncomfortable with it, then baby is fine,” Murphy said, toying with the seatbelt. He had no choice but to meet Bellamy’s gaze, but he wanted nothing more than to climb under a rock. Usually the guys he went home with already knew what he wanted, or at least had some idea, and he rarely told the guys he dated this soon, if at all. He’d never told Richards, he wasn’t able to, he knew Richards couldn’t give that to him, but Bellamy, he could, it was just a matter of whether or not he was willing.
Bellamy nodded, “Alright, then. Whatever you want, Murphy.”
“Yeah?” Murphy asked, perking up a little. “You don’t think it’s weird?”
“No, not even close,” Honestly, Bellamy had been in relationships with people with weirder kinks. He’d even done something similar to this before, and apparently, he’d been good at it, so he was more than aware of what to do. The only reason he hadn’t completely taken charge was because he didn’t really know Murphy’s limits, yet, nor all the things he was into, and he didn’t want to fuck up. They’d have to have a discussion about that sometime soon. Really soon.
Murphy smiled and relaxed, “Then fuck me already.”
“Then get your ass over here,” Bellamy ordered, adjusting himself so that Murphy could comfortably sit on his lap. “And say please next time. You will show me respect, or I swear, I won’t touch you at all and I’ll make you get yourself off while I watch.”
“Sorry, sir,” Murphy mumbled, crawling onto Bellamy’s lap. “Please touch me, Bell.”
“Not yet,” Bellamy smirked, resting his hands on Murphy’s thighs, so close to where Murphy wanted them, just to torture him. “So, what was that that you didn’t want me to do?”
Murphy squirmed, feeling Bellamy’s hands burning into his skin. “I wanted you to, fuck, can you just-”
“No,” Bellamy said harshly, taking his hands away completely and making Murphy whine. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to jack me off, both of us at the same time, with your other hand around my throat so I can barely breathe. Want you to call me a whore, call me yours, and make me beg to be allowed to come,” Murphy told him, reaching out and running his hands across Bellamy’s chest. “Want you to do that thing you did last time, where you kept going until I begged you to stop. Want you to keep going until I can’t stand it. Please.”
“Okay, okay. But you gotta tell me if I go to far. Do you have a safe word?” Bellamy asked, running his fingers across Murphy’s hips, letting his fingernails gently scrape his skin, drawing a shiver from him.
Murphy shrugged, “Not really. I like the stoplight system. It’s easier to remember. You know what that is?”
“Green for okay, yellow for slow down and discuss, and red for stop, right?” This wasn’t the first time Bellamy had done this. He had quite a bit of knowledge about this kind of thing. Hell, he liked it, even, he just didn’t get much of a chance to do it. Murphy being interested in this was like a dream come true, honestly.
“Yeah,” Murphy said, squirming as Bellamy let his hands wander closer to his dick. He wanted him to touch him, he was already half hard and it wouldn’t take much to get him ready to go. “Please.”
“Alright, baby. You want me to keep going, right? Till when?” He needed to know when Murphy wanted him to stop, a limit to keep him from hurting him.
“Until I can’t take it. Until I say red. Is that okay?” Murphy asked, closing his eyes and moaning when Bellamy finally ran a hand across his dick.
“Of course, it is, Murphy. Whatever the hell you want, baby.” Bellamy said, taking Murphy into his hand and stroking him lightly, feeling him harden the rest of the way.
Murphy tipped his head back, letting out a quiet moan. “Bell, stop teasing.”
“No,” Bellamy smirked, leaning forward to press a kiss to the side of Murphy’s mouth before trailing kisses down his neck, whispering as he went, “I’m going to tease you until you can’t fucking stand it. Until you’re so hard it hurts. Until you’re begging me to stop and just let you come. And you’re not going to fucking complain about it, are you? Because you’re so desperate for me to touch you, you’re practically gagging for it. Because you’re such a fucking whore that you can’t even go a week without needing to be fucked.”
Murphy whined and bucked his hips, Bellamy’s words going straight to his dick. All he wanted was for Bellamy to grip him hard and stroke him off, rough and fast, but he wasn’t going to get that. He wasn’t going to get what he wanted. He was at Bellamy’s mercy and he fucking loved it. He wasn’t allowed to complain, he had to behave himself for Bellamy, had to be good.
“Sit still or I’ll bend you over my fucking knee and teach you a lesson, you little bitch,” Bellamy growled, tightening his grip for a moment and running a fingernail across the bundle of nerves on the underside of Murphy’s cock, making him jerk and buck his hips again.
Murphy moaned, precum leaking from his dick. “Bell, fuck, please stop teasing. I need you, I can’t fucking take it. Please, detective, I’ll be good, I promise, just please stop teasing me.”
“You’ll be good, hmm? I bet you will. You’ll do anything I say, won’t you? If I told you to drop to your knees, you’d do it, wouldn’t you? If I told you to get yourself off for me right now, give me a show, you’d do it. You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you? Because you’re a whore. You’re my whore, aren’t you?” Bellamy asked, using his free hand to tangle in Murphy’s hair, holding him still so he could suck a bruise into his neck. Bellamy was hard himself, his erection straining against his stomach, begging to be touched. Every moan he drew out of Murphy, every time he begged, it went straight to his dick. He wasn’t going to be able to tease Murphy for too long before needing to get them both off. “Tell me, baby. Tell me you’re my whore.”
Murphy groaned and arched his neck into Bellamy’s touch. He swallowed hard and bucked his hips again, unable to help himself. He needed more stimulation, he needed Bellamy. He wished they had time for Bellamy to pin him down and fuck him, rough and hard without caring about Murphy’s pleasure, just using him to get himself off. That’s what he wanted. He wanted Bellamy to use him, needed him to.
Bellamy growled and tightened his grip on Murphy’s hair, pulling it hard to the side to expose Murphy’s neck so that he could mark him up, claim him as his own, drawing a loud moan from the boy. “Tell me, Murphy. Say it!”
Murphy opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a whimper as Bellamy bit down on his neck hard enough to leave a bruise. He felt his dick twitch in Bellamy’s hand and reached out, taking Bellamy’s cock into his hand and stroking him, wanting to please him. He tried again, panting out, “I-I’m your whore. I’m yours and yours a-alone. Yours to fuck, to use. I’m your sl-slut, always ready to be fucked by you. I belong to you, Bell. I’m your whore.”
Bellamy smiled and began to suck another mark into Murphy’s neck, biting down as hard as he could and drawing another whimper from the squirming boy. He drew back as Murphy once again bucked his hips into his hand, trying to get more friction as Bellamy teased him. “Think you’ve had enough teasing?”
Murphy nodded, rasping out, “Please, sir, I want to come. Let me, please. I need it so badly. Been fantasizing about you all fucking week and getting myself off isn’t enough.”
Bellamy smirked at him, letting go of his cock and reaching for his hips to pull him closer so he could jerk them both off. “Yeah? You got yourself off thinking about me? Tell me, how many times did you do it? How fucking hard were you thinking about me?”
Murphy groaned and dropped his head to Bellamy’s shoulder, reaching down to touch himself but Bellamy slapped his hand away. “Hand behind your back. Now!”
Murphy obeyed, reluctantly putting his hands behind his back and whining because he could no longer touch himself or Bellamy. “Please!”
“I’ll touch you when you answer my question. Tell me how often you got yourself off thinking about me. I bet it was daily. Got yourself off thinking about my cock in your ass. Filling you up and fucking you so rough and hard that you feel it for days. You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you? Such a fucking slut, baby,” Bellamy told him, rubbing circles into his hips, “Now, answer my question.”
“Daily, yeah. Sometimes more than once. Got myself off in the bathroom of a bar last night thinking about you. Couldn’t wait to get home. Thought about you ordering me to my knees right there in the stall so I could suck you off,” Murphy told him, a little shyly. He’d been so hard thinking about Bellamy’s fingers in his ass and his hand around his cock and he hadn’t been able to make it home, he’d gotten so hard that he’d had to go to the bathroom to take care of it, biting his lip to keep back his moans as he thought of Bellamy ordering him to his knees on the floor and fucking his mouth, using him like the slut he was. He’d came so hard knowing that anyone could have guessed what he was doing, even though he tried to be discreet.
“Yeah, baby? Want me to fuck you in public? Where anyone could walk in on us and see you getting fucked like the whore you are?” Bellamy asked, running his hands up Murphy’s sides and across his chest until he reached his nipples. He ran a finger over each other buds, drawing a shudder from Murphy who whined out another plea to be touched as Bellamy leaned forward and took one of them into his mouth, licking at it for a moment before biting down, Murphy gasping above him.
Murphy had to fight to keep his hands behind him as Bellamy’s mouth worked at his nipples, licking and biting and teasing him some more. “I th-thought you said you were d-done teasing me?” He gasped out, his voice breaking as he fought to be able to speak.
“Hmm, did I?” Bellamy hummed, pulling back. “Alright, then. Tell me what you want me to do.”
“I want you to wrap your hand around my throat and choke me while you jerk us both off,” Murphy told him, impatient as his cock strained against his chest, purple and leaking. He was so hard it hurt and all he wanted was to come. “Please, detective, I need to come.”
Bellamy just nodded and raised his hand to Murphy’s throat, gently stroking his skin as Murphy sucked in a shuddery breath, the anticipation killing him.
“Please, Bell, please,” he whimpered.
“I don’t know. Something tells me if I keep going, you’ll come without me even touching you. Think you can?” Bellamy teased.
“Bell.”
“Alright, baby, alright. If I go too far, or you start to pass out, let me know. If that happens, I want you to tap my hand twice, okay?” Bellamy wanted to make sure Murphy was safe. He’d done this before and he knew what to watch for, but he wanted to make sure Murphy had an out, just in case he couldn’t use the safe word.
Murphy just nodded, his pupils blown, and his face flushed. He looked so desperate that it made Bellamy’s own dick ache.
Bellamy tightened his grip around Murphy’s throat, squeezing the sides and putting enough pressure to cut off the blood flow but not enough to hurt his trachea. He didn’t want to have to drive him to the hospital, that would be a nightmare.
Murphy gasped as his head grew foggy, the feeling pleasant and terrifying all at once. He loved being at Bellamy’s mercy. If he pressed any harder, he could hurt him, and Murphy loved the thought. Bellamy was in charge, he was so good at this, making Murphy feel like a whore, hurting him just enough to make him beg to come. He was better than any dom Murphy had ever been with and he got to do this regularly now. Bellamy belonged to him just as much as he belonged to Bellamy.
Murphy nearly screamed when Bellamy finally took their dicks into his hand, the contact sending a wave of pleasure through Murphy’s body. Finally, finally he was being touched, not just teased. Bellamy set a brutal pace, rough and fast and Murphy saw stars. He felt lightheaded and dizzy and he never wanted the feeling to go away. It was a rush, a high like he’d never had before. As much as the teasing tortured him, the payoff was amazing. He wasn’t going to last long like this. Not with as much as Bellamy had already put him through. He tried to tell Bellamy that but all that came out were raspy half words that made no sense.
“I know, baby, I know. It’s okay,” Bellamy said, speeding up his pace. He was so close himself, watching Murphy writhe in pleasure was tipping him over the edge much sooner than he’d anticipated. That was okay, he didn’t mind. He knew he could last longer if he tried, he could go for quite a while, actually, but with Murphy being so close, there was no need. “You look so pretty like this, you know that? All fucked out and desperate, like a cheap fucking whore. Makes me wanna pin you down and fuck you like one. Wanna put my dick in you, fill you up so good. Bet you’d be so tight for me. Bet you’d be such a good little slut and let me fuck you any way I wanted. I’d fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk the next morning. Leave bruises all over you, mark you up, claim you as mine. You’re my whore, aren’t you, baby? My little bitch. Such a pretty little slut, so desperate to get off. It’s okay, you can come. Come for me, Murphy.”
That was all it took. Bellamy’s pace and the filthy things he said had Murphy spilling over his hand, his eyes closed and his mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. Bellamy let go of his throat and Murphy gasped, sucking in air, the flood of oxygen sending a rush to his brain that made his orgasm that much stronger.
Bellamy watched him, reveling in the faces he made and with a quiet moan, he came, following after Murphy. He let go of his own dick and focused all his efforts on Murphy who was panting and squirming under his ministrations, the overstimulation driving him crazy.
“Bell, I can’t- Oh, fuck, Bell, please,” Murphy moaned, dropping his head to Bellamy’s shoulder, his hands still behind his back.
“You can use your hands now, Murphy, it’s okay,” Bellamy told him, speeding his pace back up. He ran his thumb across the head and rubbed on the little bundle of nerves until Murphy tried jerking away, his body fighting against him.
Murphy whimpered, “Bell, please, I can’t take it. You can’t- Oh, fuck, Bell!” He brought his hands up to hold onto Bellamy as he shook, the overstimulation becoming too much.
Bellamy slowed his pace a little. “If you want me to stop, you gotta say it,” he whispered, using his other hand to steady Murphy.
Murphy shook his head, not yet ready to give in. He loved the pain that mixed with the overwhelming pleasure and racked his body, but if was quickly becoming too much for him to handle. He held out a few more seconds before rasping out, “Red.”
Bellamy stopped, his hand stilling. He let go of Murphy who lay against him, panting and shaking. He brought his arms up to wrap around him, holding him close as he caught his breath.
Murphy pressed his face into Bellamy’s neck, bringing his arms up and pressing his hands against Bellamy’s chest, reassuring himself that he was real and there, and it hadn’t been a dream.
“You okay, baby?” Bellamy asked quietly, stroking Murphy’s hair.
“Yeah,” Murphy whispered against Bellamy’s skin, sending a shiver down his spine. “’M fine.”
“Need anything?”
“Water?” Murphy asked, pulling back and trying to sit up. He managed after a moment, his hands still on Bellamy’s chest for balance.
“I’ve got a couple bottles under the seat. Give me a second.” Bellamy groped under the seat for a bottle, finding one and pulling it out. He twisted the cap off and held it out to Murphy, who took it gratefully and gulped it down, downing half the bottle before stopping to catch his breath. “Are you alright?”
Murphy nodded, wiping his mouth. “We need to clean up.”
Bellamy looked down at his hand and chuckled, “Yeah, I guess we do. Here, I’ve got wipes in the console.” He leaned forward and opened it, awkwardly pulling out the package of wet wipes he kept stashed there for occasions when he spilled something, or someone got blood in his car. His car wasn’t meant to transport suspects, but there were times when it was unavoidable.
He opened the package and pulled a few out, wiping down his hand and stomach before grabbing a clean one and wiping down Murphy who hummed in contentment.
“I love you,” Murphy murmured when he was done, leaning back against his chest and adjusting his legs so he was more comfortable.
“I love you, too, baby. So much,” Bellamy told him, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
They stayed like that for a while, Murphy curled up against Bellamy chest with Bellamy’s arms around him, content to just lay there.
“So, was it alright?” Bellamy asked after a few minutes.
“Oh, yeah,” Murphy laughed. “Honestly, you’re the best I’ve ever been with and I’m not just stroking your ego.”
Bellamy smiled, “Good, cause I wanna be your last.”
“I can live with that,” Murphy said, pressing a kiss to Bellamy’s chin. “But I’ve got to get dressed and go inside before they think you kidnapped me.”
“I could kidnap you, if you want me to,” Bellamy offered.
“I’d love to let you, but I can’t. If I ditch them tonight they’ll never forgive me. We’ve got to finish deciding what decorations we need so we can meet with the venue coordinator and get a general game plan going. She’s got a team to put them up, and they supply them, but we’ve got to decide what we want and if we need to order anything specific and it’s all a big mess and please, please kidnap me,” Murphy begged.
“It sounds like you need to go help Craig. I wouldn’t want him to murder me because I stole you away from an important project,” Bellamy laughed.
“He won’t kill you. And he’s not actually that angry at you. He’s just terrified because of the wedding and how short notice it is and how much there’s left to do. He’s just being bitchy. I promise, it’s not just you. He’s been snapping at everyone for the past two months. In fact, he nearly punched me one day. The only reason I didn’t kick is ass is because he’s basically my brother and I love him, but damn, he’s getting on my nerves.”
“Bridezilla?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, put your pants on and go slip some whiskey into his coffee and all will be good,” Bellamy joked.
“No way. A drunk Craig is even worse to deal with. If he’s going to be drunk, I’m going to be drunk, and I can’t get drunk because I have to go look at an apartment at nine tomorrow,” Murphy sighed. “Maybe a Xanax, though.”
“That’s illegal,” Bellamy scolded.
“So’s murder. Which is worse?”
Bellamy just laughed and shook his head.
“Alright, fine, I’ll go, but you’re taking me out Friday,” Murphy told him.
“Where am I taking you?”
“Anywhere. I don’t care. Be as cheesy as you like.”
Bellamy grinned, “I think I know what we should do.”
“Yeah? What?” Murphy asked, pulling away from Bellamy and grabbing his pants.
“Oh, no. I’m not telling. It’ll be a surprise.”
“You and your goddamn surprises,” Murphy grumbled.
“You like my surprises, though,” Bellamy said, pulling on his own pants.
“Yeah, well, I’d like to know what the hell we’re doing, so I know how to dress for once.”
“Dress like normal, it’s fine,” Bellamy told him. “But wear your hair up. You look sexy like that.”
“I thought I looked sexy all the time?”
“You do, but the ponytail makes you look sexier.”
Murphy just grinned and pulled on his shirt. He pressed a quick kiss to Bellamy’s lips and opened the door. Bellamy grabbed his hand before he could leave and pulled him back. “What?”
“That’s not a fucking kiss,” Bellamy grinned.
“Then show me what a proper one is,” Murphy smirked.
“You do realize what that stupid smirk does to me, right?” Bellamy asked as Murphy turned back to face him.
“I’d imagine it does a lot of things to a lot of people. Mostly inspires annoyance or irritation, sometimes rage. Tell me, what does it do to you?” Murphy asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Makes me wanna wipe it off your stupid face,” Bellamy told him, pulling him into a kiss. He nipped at Murphy's bottom lip, much more gently than usual and ran his tongue across it to soothe the pain. Murphy parted his lips, so Bellamy could deepen it. Bellamy wrapped his tongue around Murphy’s and tangled his hand in Murphy’s hair, pulling gently. Murphy let out a quiet moan and reached up to rest his hand on Bellamy’s neck. Bellamy explored his mouth lazily, like it was something he did everyday before withdrawing and giving one last nip to Murphy’s lips before pulling away. “That’s a fucking kiss.”
“Was it? Maybe you should go ahead and do it again, I didn’t quite understand the first time,” Murphy said, that stupid smirk back on his face.
“Get out of my car, asshole,” Bellamy laughed, shoving him gently. “Don’t you have a wedding planning party to attend?”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Murphy groaned, climbing out of the car. “It’s not fair, you get to go home and do whatever the fuck you want, I’ve got to deal with bridezilla.”
“Give him a break. Planning a wedding is hard and getting married is even harder. He’s going through a lot right now, just try to keep him calm and help him as best you can. He’ll go back to normal once it’s all over. It’ll be alright. And, I mean, if it doesn’t help, you can go ahead with the Xanax idea and I promise not to arrest you,” Bellamy joked.
“Good, cause you’ve done enough of that to last a lifetime,” Murphy snorted.
The smile on Bellamy’s face disappeared for a moment, but then he shook his head and it was back, “Go, try to have fun with it. It’s not everyday you get to plan a wedding.”
“Yeah, well, if I’m ever this bitchy while planning our wedding, you’ve got permission to punch me in the face. Repeatedly,” Murphy sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I hope we finish soon, I need a nap.”
Bellamy just grinned. Our wedding. Murphy had really just said that. He wanted to comment on it, but he wasn’t sure what to say, so instead he just climbed out of the car and wrapped his arms around Murphy, giving him a peck on the cheek before pulling away and saying, “Goodnight, baby. I’ll see you later.”
“Night, Bell. I’ll see you Monday.”
“Gonna show up at my work?”
“Yes. I like it there. Miller and Monroe are cool, and Harper’s nice. Plus, there’s fish.”
“You come for the fish?”
“No, I come for you. I stay for the fish,” Murphy laughed. “Alright, I’m gonna go in before they realize why I was gone so long.”
Bellamy looked down at his watch, “You’ve only been out here for thirty minutes, I don’t imagine they’ll think much happened.”
“I’ll just tell them I was doing damage control and make them feel guilty for being jackasses.”
“You don’t have to. I get it, it’s fine,” Bellamy shrugged.
“What happened after I left the room, anyway?” Murphy asked.
“I’ll tell you some other time, okay? Give me some time to process it, because I’m not really sure what happened, to be honest.” He wasn’t sure if Mbege was going to murder him or if they were on their way to repairing their relationship. He needed a few days to really think about what he’d said so he could figure out where they were at. “Ask me in a couple weeks. I’ll tell you then.”
“Okay, but on Wednesday I don’t have any apartment viewings or potential interviews, so I’m coming home with you after work. We’ve got some stuff to discuss.”
“Do we?” Had he done something wrong?
“Don’t look so worried. We just need to figure out where we’re at with the whole kink thing,” Murphy assured him. “Just so we’re on the same page.”
“Ah, okay. Yeah, that’s something that needs to be discussed. I need to know your limits,” Bellamy agreed.
“And we need to discuss yours, too. And whether or not you actually want to be my dom.”
“Of course, I do. I’m your boyfriend, it’s not like I’m going to let you go find someone else to do it.” Bellamy smirked, “Besides, I like watching you squirm.”
“You fucking sadist,” Murphy huffed. “You just-”
“Murphy! What the hell is taking so long? You two going through the whole of the Kama Sutra in that backseat or something?” Drew called from the doorway.
“We’re just talking,” Murphy called back. “I gotta go. Goodnight, Bell. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Murph. Best of luck with bridezilla,” Bellamy told him, giving him a quick kiss before he walked away.
Murphy sighed and rolled his eyes at Drew on his way to the door. “We were just talking.”
“I believe you,” Drew grinned. “But I don’t think the others will.”
“Why the hell not?” Murphy snapped.
“Because your shirt wasn’t backwards when you left.”
“Fucking shit,” Murphy grumbled, pulling his shirt off and fixing it. “Stop laughing, asshole, it’s not funny.”
“Don’t worry, Murph, I’m not gonna tell anybody. If you wanna screw your boyfriend in the backseat of his car, go right ahead. It’s a free country. You have that right.”
“Actually, sodomy and all forms of gay sex are forbidden in several states,” Murphy informed him.
“Yeah, well, this is Cali, my flamboyant friend, the land of gay pride, where everyone shoots rainbows from their asses and owns a minimum of three pride flags,” Drew told him, walking into the house. “Even I own a few.”
“And for some reason, they’re in your living room. Along with a very tasteful portrait of a feline alien queen. Your interior decorating skills are unparalleled,” Murphy snarked.
“Damn right, they are.”
Murphy just laughed as he followed him into the study.
Next Chapter ->
#the 100#murphamy#murphamy fanfiction#john murphy#bellamy blake#my fics#100 fic#murphamy fic#innocent until fic
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