#jade stands at your bedside when you sleep at night and he watches you
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some thoughts about jade leech as a stalker.
(cw: yandere, nsfw, stalking, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, mentions of death/strangulation)
Jade does not love often. In fact, he has a rather small supply of love, which is reserved for his hobbies and family, so when he loves something other than those two things it can only mean trouble. When Floyd has something special and doesn’t share... Well, naturally Jade’s going to want it. He’s never been inherently greedy. Rather, he’s always let Floyd have everything: the larger half of a bluefin tuna, the shinier stone, the bigger seashells, the slice of cake with more frosting, his uniforms whenever Floyd’s were dirtied or damaged. And in return Floyd has, for the most part, shared his things with Jade. This has always been their normal.
But this time Floyd makes no mention of sharing when it comes to you. In the past, when they were particularly interested in someone, they would share them. Or, in other words, torment that person in equal succession. Azul has been their prime target for years now, and it doesn’t look like either of them will stop their relentless pursuit in seeing how fast they can get Azul to grouse or groan or sigh. You might think they live to see Azul’s misery, but truthfully they want to accompany Azul as he carves misery into the hearts of the poor, unfortunate souls who thought it wise to do business with deep-sea beasts. Teasing him is just a bonus.
When it comes to you, Floyd is his usual authentic self: blunt and honest to a fault, dangerously so. But that’s what makes his twin so fun. Floyd won’t sugarcoat the obvious. If he dislikes you, he’ll make it known. Jade, on the other hand, will speak syrupy sweet lies in an effort to maintain proper goodwill, even if he detests you. You’ve never really interested Jade, so he can’t say he hates you. But he can’t say he loves you either. To him, you are just a powerless human in a habitat that does not suit you. Really, even with all of the tricks and traps you pulled to beat Azul at his own game, you remained boring to him. He didn’t pay you much mind after everything had been resolved and you’d been free to return to Ramshackle. That should have been the end of his story with you.
But then, some time later, you start to make frequent appearances at the lounge. It doesn’t take Jade long to learn that you only show up when Floyd’s on shift, and it also doesn’t take him long to theorize that you might have fallen for his brother’s unique charms. It’s sweet, in a way, how Floyd lights up when he sees you, how you smile a little more brightly when he speaks to you, how your laughter is so very buoyant when Floyd lifts you into the air and spins you happily. Jade’s content to watch from the sidelines, pleased to know that his brother has found a friend in you. That might make it easier to trick you into a contract.
He’s so set in this way of thinking, only viewing you as a pawn or a stepping stone towards some bigger end goal. But when Floyd brings you back to the dorm and you become more than a constant in Jade’s life, he starts to wonder what makes you so special. What is it about you that has his brother so enamored? What makes you irresistible? What parts of you are appealing? Jade thinks it might be how quick it is you submit when Floyd’s got you pinned into the mattress, face first, rough hands spreading your thighs apart, so he can sink into you more easily. Floyd likes that; he likes the weak things that crumble under him. He likes to push things to breaking. He likes to mark and bite and bloody and bruise and shred.
Jade likes to fix. He likes to mend, and then break, and then mend all over again. He likes the process, the psychological science behind a simple gesture, much like how he takes great pleasure in playing god over the plants in his terrariums. They say a budding serial killer starts small—with animals like rabbits or squirrels or cats. Jade starts with plants. He’ll put them in stressful environments—in soils with nutrients that don’t quite work—and he’ll watch them wilt, mottle, mold, and decay. He’ll watch them struggle to adapt, he’ll watch them yearn for water or sunlight, and only when he’s certain they’ve had enough he’ll give them proper, healthy care. It’s fun, the way he has so much control over something as dynamic as a plant. But plants cannot protest, cannot fight back, cannot act in the same way humans do.
But it’s quite satisfying to pluck dried petals from a withered flower, almost like a morbid game of effeuiller la marguerite, and not hear a single scream.
So Jade is fully expecting Floyd to tire of you, to break you enough until boredom sinks its fangs into him and he moves on with his life. And what Floyd breaks Jade fixes, so he’s very ready to glue your heart together when Floyd shatters it. He’s ready to offer a handkerchief and his ear should you need to vent. He’s already prepared his speech: “I must apologize on behalf of Floyd. You know very well how he gets. If I can be of assistance in any way, please let me know.”
Unfortunately, you remain intact. Months pass, Floyd continues to love you, and your relationship unfolds like a lotus in early morning. Jade continues to observe. Floyd has never been one for privacy, so he’s seen every kiss, every bite, every inch of exposed skin. Hell, he’s sat at his desk and tallied Mostro Lounge’s monthly expenses while Floyd fucked you dumb on the other side of the room. He’s even made eye contact with you when you happened to gaze his way while his twin was buried balls-deep in that tight hole of yours. He wonders what goes on in that head of yours. Perhaps there’s nothing substantial within. Floyd’s scrambled your brains enough, so you could just be useless now. Though that wouldn’t be very fun, would it? He knows there’s more to you than you let on, especially when you play top and take every inch of Floyd, riding him so skillfully, and all Floyd can do is dig his fingers into your hips to guide you along to the rough, erratic pace the both of you have set.
Jade watches fondly from the shadows. Floyd likes to have access to your neck and shoulders; he likes to take you from behind while leaning down to bite into soft flesh. But Jade thinks it would be much nicer to gaze upon your face, to kiss salt from your eyes, to pepper your jawline with tiny pecks, all while peering into eyes that house a beautiful soul. He thinks it would be nice to hold you down, have your legs wrapped around his waist or thrown up onto his shoulders, while he bottoms out. If it were Jade, he’d take you in every position, but he’d find the most pleasure in eye contact. There’s something intimate about it, much like how there’s intimacy in the hands that wrap around a throat. You have to be close to someone when you’re restricting their airflow; you have to squeeze until veins pop, until your hands are sore, until your fingernails have burrowed so deeply into skin that the crescent moons color crimson. It takes minutes to strangle someone, and every minute is spent staring into the wide, terrified eyes of a desperate soul on the verge of death.
Jade likes the way you smell, the way you speak, the way you laugh, the way you are, in every meaning of the word, so very filled with life. Even down to the way you breathe and gasp and moan and cry, you are life itself. Jade wants to bottle that for himself—pluck you from Floyd’s flower pot and place you in a terrarium with the most potent elements just to see how long you’d fare. He wants to save you from those same conditions, sandwich your face between gloved hands when he’s kneeled to your lowered height, and whisper about how it’s okay, about how you’re safe, about how he’d never truly hurt you. Jade knows that loving someone is a very special thing, but the way he loves you is not quite pleasant. The love he has for his hobbies and family is natural. Normal. Simplistic and familial.
The love he has for you is murderous and frightening. Some days he looks at you like you’re prey he’s not yet devoured. Like you’re to be his first victim.
Jade starts small. He takes tiny trinkets—a keychain, a pencil, an accessory. He stores these in a shoe box under his bed. When Floyd brings you over and clothes are cast aside, he swipes your undergarments for himself. He won’t wash them until he absolutely must. He’ll have the soft fabric wrapped around his dick later that same evening when Floyd’s fallen asleep and he’s up late contemplating love and lust and life and death, and he’ll cum to the thought of you. Sweet, adorable, oblivious you.
He’s what one would call a persistence predator—a hunter who gradually wears his prey down over time. He takes from you, watches you, listens to you fret about missing things to Floyd, who promises to find the bastard who’s messing with you and squeeze them until they’re blue and purple. Jade smiles at that. Floyd wouldn’t really do that to him. Sure, they’ve hit each other when they’ve fought and roughhoused on occasion, but the punches were never truly meant. Sure, they might have been thrown playfully or angrily, but they were all temporary bouts of strength. Floyd wouldn’t truly hurt him, so to hear these determined promises and to see how you relax around him... It’s really cute. Jade wonders how much more he can take from you.
And he wonders how much more you can take before you’re splintering.
Really, you got lucky that Floyd picked you first. He’s far more merciful. Far more sweeter. Far more loving. At least Floyd is honest with his (at times) rough nature. At least he makes it known that he wants to bite you until you’re bleeding. But Floyd can’t stand whining. He hates it when people cry about things he can’t bother to care about, and lately you’ve been whining about this stalker you think you have for weeks now. Floyd’s told you you’re just being a scared shrimpy—that there is no stalker, that you’re probably just misplacing or losing these items, that none of them really matter because they’re replaceable.
Jade gets lucky when Floyd finally washes his hands of you, officially fed up with your whining. And what Floyd damages Jade fixes. So when you’re in tears, distraught over the break-up and your missing items and your stalker and the fact that the door to Ramshackle was left unlocked again and that you feel like someone’s living in your shadow, Jade arrives to rescue you from your fear. You don’t even hesitate to cling to him and cry, spilling your worries in waterfalls. Perhaps it’s because he’s a familiar face. He is a reflection of Floyd, after all.
“Oh dear,” he’ll whisper, stroking your back, allowing you to bury your face in his chest and sob. “There, there.”
You can’t see his expression, but there is a smile spreading on his lips. And his eyes are alight with cruel glee.
“Would it make you feel better if someone accompanied you to your classes?” Your feeble nod is all he needs. “In that case, shall I spend a few days at Ramshackle with you? I’m certain whoever’s pursuing you won’t get very far if I’m around.”
And he’s right. Your stalker never takes anything again. They never leave the front door unlocked. They never trail behind you, taking shelter in your shadow. That’s because he’s your stalker, though you never managed to figure that out, and this time he doesn’t have to dwell in shadows or on the sidelines. This time he can stand before you as a friend, a soon-to-be lover, and perhaps a lifelong mate.
Jade does not love often, but when he does it is as beautifully painful as tearing the wings from butterflies.
#meraki mumbles#yandere twst#n/sfw#i think my favorite thing about writing yandere jade is how brutal and remorseless he can be#it's probably because he grew up in the harsh environment of the sea#which would naturally harden anyone and make them more predatory than a prey#it's probably also why he (and floyd and azul) see nothing wrong with murder#yes it's morally wrong and very much illegal#but in the ocean it's eat or be eaten and really do you think jade is going to let some other predator snap his darling up? :)#challenge: write one yan jade thought without it spiraling into a thought about his murderous rizz#challenge failed </3 he is a walking danger you cannot tell me he wouldn't think of the most horrifying things when it comes to darling#more jade thoughts!!! consider an artist (painter/sculpter/etc) jade who is absolutely obsessed with you (the nude model from his art class)#because you're the one who has finally inspired him and broken his months-long artist's block#and also because he'd like to paint you in the most vicious red#or jade who has broken into your home and is living there in secret without you knowing#sometimes he sleeps under your bed just to hear your steady breaths#he never rearranges anything in your house but he does do the dishes or clean up messes you've made#you can never remember if or when you cleaned these things but you never think much of it#jade stands at your bedside when you sleep at night and he watches you#you'll happen to wake and you'll spot him but by the time you've scrambled to wake up and turn the lights on he'll already be gone#so you're left to wonder if he was ever there in the first place or if you were still dreaming#he is the terror that you will never see until it's too late
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Birthday Cakes & Vacations:
A/N: Hazel and Jade are involved in this one.
Jack had been slowing down on his birthday celebrations within the last few years, usually he and Urb did a joint birthday party but as Hazel and Jade got older and Urbans kids did too, the big blowout celebrations usually turned into a small dinner or get together.
Urban had expressed that this year he was going on a vacation with his wife and when Jack seemed bummed about it you took matters into your own hands, planning something for the two of you.
It was the morning of Jacks birthday and you had big plans but you needed him to wake up first. He had taken some melatonin the night before and he was still in a deep sleep, you tried to kiss him awake, shake him awake and nothing worked. You got out of bed and decided to wake both of the girls, reminding them it was Jacks birthday.
“I know mommy! We’ve been working on the banner remember?” Hazel handed you a rolled-up scroll from the side of her bed. You had explained to both her and Jade that their grandparents would be watching them for a few days while you and Jack went out of town and you needed their help announcing it to him.
Jade begrudgingly rolled out of bed, following you and Hazel into the bedroom as the two of them jumped on the bed to wake Jack. You had your phone in your hand recording the sweet moment, something you had learned to do over time.
“Daddy! Daddy! It’s your birthday!” Jade pulled on his ear softly making him lightly groan as the girls finally got him to wake up from his deep sleep.
“Let the birthday boy sleep!” He teased as he sat up to get a good look at both of the girls who were giggling uncontrollably. He winked at you, as he noticed you were recording. You stopped so you could walk over to him to kiss him.
“Do you want to do presents now or later?” Jade impatiently asked earning a wide-eyed look from her older sister.
“Now, of course!” Jack smirked as you walked over to the closet to pull out the presents you had poorly hidden, but it didn’t matter considering this year you wrapped all of them instead of putting them in a gift bag.
Hazel hopped off the bed to help you carry the gifts over to Jack. “Hand daddy this one” You gave Hazel the gift that she picked for Jack first.
“That’s my pick!” Hazel said proudly as she handed her dad a medium-sized box wrapped in polka dot paper before climbing back on the bed beside him and Jade.
You tied a garbage bag to the bedside table for Jack to dispose of his tattered wrapping paper and watched from your vanity chair as he got emotional.
“Cuff links? Hazey these are beautiful!”
“They are mine and Jade's birthstones!” She giggled wondering if her dad had even noticed.
“So you’re with me at every event? That’s so smart” he hugged her and kissed the top of her head as she collected the pieces of wrapping paper for him.
You stood up and handed him a bigger box that was from Jade. “She picked this all by herself” You smiled, knowing it wasn’t something Jack would usually wear but because Jade picked it he would be rocking it at least once.
Jade giggled excitedly as Jack opened the clothing box to find a navy blue sweater vest inside, it had a design with sheep plastered all over it and he had sworn to have seen it before.
“Harry Tiles has one just like it!” Jade giggled hoping her dad liked it as much as she did.
“Oh? Harry styles huh?” Jack chuckled and looked over at you as you smiled and shrugged, standing up to hand him the last box.
“From you?” He smiled cheekily, wondering what you could have gotten him this year.
“But mommy? Aren’t you forgetting something?” Hazel had practiced that line all week just hoping she was convincing enough to sell it.
“You’re right! Silly me!” You handed Jack the rolled-up banner that both Hazel and Jade took turns making and decorating.
“Help unroll that please girls” you giggled as Jack looked at you through narrowed eyes wondering what you could be up to.
Jade and Hazel helped unroll the banner and you handed Jack his glasses while you held the other end.
Jack quickly put his glasses on and read the banner out loud “Happy Birthday Daddy! Have fun in T&C!”
“T&C?” He tilted his head wondering if he had misunderstood something. “Turks and Caicos?”
You nodded and he practically shot out of bed, embracing you immediately. “When do we leave?”
“Tonight! Your parents are staying with the girls for a few days while we go out there” You knew he needed this more than he’d care to admit, his eyes watered at your sentiment.
“Thank you baby” he whispered as he bent down to cover you in kisses.
“Did you like the banner daddy?” Jade interrupted making you both burst into laughter.
“I loved it! Especially the hearts! You both did a good job!” He hugged both of the girls and thanked them for the gifts and banner one more time.
“Hazel, do you want to get some plates ready so we can sing Happy Birthday to daddy and eat cake? Please and thank you?” You wanted another moment alone with your husband.
“Okay! Let’s go Jadey!” Hazel grabbed her little sister's hand and helped her off the bed before they skipped off to the kitchen.
Jack immediately kissed you like his life depended on it. “Thank you for always making my birthday special” he hummed as he kissed you again.
“Wait until you see what I packed” you winked before you were interrupted by the girls.
“Mommy! Daddy! Let’s eat cake” Jade shouted from the kitchen.
“That's not the only cake I’m eating today” Jack mumbled as he grabbed a handful of your ass before you guided him to the kitchen.
“Jackman! Behave!” You whispered, your cheeks growing warm with embarrassment.
“It’s my birthday, I don’t have to” he rasped quietly before the two of you made it to the kitchen.
#Jack Harlow#jack harlow x reader#jack harlow concepts#jack harlow imagines#jack harlow blurb#Jack Harlow fanfic#Jack Harlow fluff
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New Angel |One-Shot|
Summary: After finding Tom drunk and upset about Ruth, you do your best to be there for him. What happens when you both develop feelings for one another?
Warning: swearing, vomiting , Kai being a dick.
It started at the bonfire. You were busy chatting to your new boss Shirley when you noticed one of your colleagues, Tom, stumbling across the beach.
You had started your job a few days ago, doing maintenance. You couldn’t stand Kai, who was an arsehole to a lot of people, and he couldn’t stand it that a woman was doing maintenance. Tom, on the other hand, was very kind and patient with you learning the ropes.
Not long after you had came to the holiday park, there was an uproar between him and Kai. Tom found out from him that Tom’s ex girlfriend, Ruth was seeing Jade, another colleague behind his back.
Ever since then, Tom had not been in a good place.
“I’ll be right back,” you told Shirley, before you followed Tom to the other part of the beach, making sure that he didn’t do anything stupid.
You called out to him, only to be ignored. You went up to him when you noticed that he was watching something as tears ran down his face. You turned to find Ruth and Jade kissing. You quickly looked up at him, and put your hands on his shoulders, before moving him away from the scene. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
You steadied him, as you reached his mobile home.
You took his key, and unlocked the door, before going inside.
You gently sat him on the edge of the bed, before telling him, “I’ll get you some water.” You rubbed his arm, before heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water, when you heard Tom sobbing.
You turned to look at him, as you turned off the tap. You took the glass with you into the bedroom.
You squatted down in front of Tom, who was covering his face with his hands as he continued to sob.
You softly shushed him, before telling him, “Here, drink this.”
He moved his hands away, revealing his blood-shot eyes, as you passed him the glass. He took a small sip, before he began to blubber.
As you took the glass from him and put it by his bedside table, Tom wept, “I thought that we were happy together.”
You rubbed his arm, as he asked, “What did I do wrong?”
You placed your hands on his lap as you told him, “Nothing, you’ve done nothing wrong.”
You sighed, before telling him, “I know that I’ve only been here for a few days, but from what I’ve seen and how you spoke about Ruth, you’re nothing but a sweetheart. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”
Tom looked up at you, as he asked, “Really?”
You nodded when he asked, “Can I...kiss you?”
You were taken back by the question, but you firmly replied, as you sympathetically gazed at him, “No.”
“But, you said that-“
“I know what I said.” You sighed, before telling him, “Tom, you’re not thinking straight. And even if you were by a miracle, immediately over Ruth, I wouldn’t kiss you when you’re drunk. Or anyone for that matter. If I did that, I would be taking advantage. Okay?”
Tom silently nodded, as he sniffled.
“Why don’t you lie on the bed? Get some shuteye,” you suggested.
Doing what you suggested, Tom pushed himself towards his bed and began to lie down.
As he shut his eyes, you put a blanket over him and squeezed his hand, before telling him, “I’ll check in on you in the morning.”
As Tom went to sleep, you were about to leave when you gazed at his sleeping face. You sighed, before telling yourself, “Maybe I should stay, make sure that he doesn’t do anything daft.”
You looked over to the couch, before walking towards it and laid on it. You grabbed the blanket near your head and covered yourself with it, before going to sleep.
The next morning, you woke to the sound of vomiting. You sat up, before getting up to go to the bathroom.
You walked in to find Tom kneeling down in front of the toilet, throwing up.
You squatted down and rubbed his back, when he turned to you, and asked, “What are you doing here?”
You were about to respond when he asked, “Have you been here all night?”
You nodded, before telling him, “I thought that I should stay, just in case you got worse.”
You expected him to tell you to leave, but instead, he told you, “Thank you.”
You smiled at him, before he began to speak, “Look, about last night, what I asked you. I shouldn’t-“
“Don’t worry about it,” you interjected, as you rubbed his back.
As you stood up, you asked him, “Do you think you’ll be okay to work? I can radio Shirley-“
“No, no need,” Tom replied as he shook his head. “Kai will get teasy with me if I don’t come in.”
“Teasy?” You asked, furrowing your brow.
“Sorry, forgot that you’re still new to this place,” Tom lightly chuckled. “It means pissed off.”
“Ah, okay,” you giggled, before telling him, “Well, why don’t you have a quick shower and I’ll make you a cup of tea and some toast. Is the bread on the side still okay?”
“Should be,” Tom replied, before he took off his hoodie.
You were about to leave, when he called for you.
You turned to look at him, when he smiled at you and said, “Thanks. You’re an angel.”
You giggled, before telling him, “You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to it.”
You closed the door behind you, before making your way to the kitchen to make him toast and a cup of tea.
Weeks had past since the bonfire. Over time, you and Tom became good friends. However, after Jade and Ruth left, you were asked to cover their jobs until Shirley recruited more people, so you didn’t get a chance to spend more time with him at work. But it wasn’t so bad, at least you didn’t have Kai breathing down your neck constantly.
Whenever you had a day off though, you would visit Tom and offer to help him with his work, even though Kai wasn’t pleased about it, always telling you to leave, saying that you were just distracting him and Tom.
“Well, I was doing this job before I had to cover for the leavers,” you retorted, as you handed a bolt cutter to Tom.
“I wonder how long it’ll be until you leave him for another girl,” Kai spat. Before Tom could say anything, you slapped Kai across the face. You glared at Kai before you sternly told him, “My relationship with Tom, be it platonic or romantic is none of your business, nor is my sexuality.”
Kai glared at you, as you told him, “If you ever talk shit to me or Tom again, I’ll report you to Shirley. Understand?”
Kai silently grabbed his tool bag and left, rubbing his cheek.
You turned to a stunned Tom, and was about to speak, when he smirked, before telling you, “Looks like you might’ve put him in his place.”
He chuckled when you told him, “Yeah well, he shouldn’t said that, not in front of you.”
You were cleaning up the worktop, putting the tools and safety gears away when Tom cleared his throat, before asking, “Are we still on for tonight at your place?”
You nodded at him, before replying, “Yeah, definitely. As long as you don’t mind pasta.”
Tom chuckled, as he helped you clear up.
Later that evening, you and Tom were sitting at the table, having tomato and basil spaghetti. You both lifted your glasses of water at the same time, when you quickly put it down, before getting up as you said, “Nearly forgot.”
Tom watched you and started giggling when you came back with some slices of bread on a plate.
You took a couple of slices, leaving Tom the remaining slices. “Cheers,” he said, as started putting his spaghetti in between the slices.
You giggled as you watched him do it. “I still can’t believe you do that.”
You were about to dip your bread when Tom said, “You try it.”
You furrowed your brows, before you chuckled, “Do you dare me?”
Tom laughed, before taking a bite of his spaghetti sandwich. “Alright then,” you said, as you added your spaghetti in between your two slices of bread. You could hear Tom’s muffled laughter as you picked up your spaghetti sandwich. You giggled, before you took a bite of it, which made Tom cheer.
You giggled after you took a bite when suddenly, Tom got up and leaned forward as he said, “Hang on, you’ve got something...”
He wiped the sauce off your cheek with his thumb, and sat back down. You wiped your cheek with a tissue and thanked him, as he sucked the sauce off his thumb.
After dinner, you both sat on the couch, watching a film, Carousel on the television. Halfway through the film, you grabbed a blanket from your side and placed it over yours and Tom’s legs. “Thanks,” he said, as he sat up straight.
As you both continued watching the film, Tom suddenly asked, “Do you believe in guardian angels?”
You turned to him, and asked, “Why do you asked?”
Tom shrugged before replying, “Just got thinking.” He then turned to you as he asked, “So, do you?”
“Well, I believe there’s something or someone looking out for us.” You giggled, before telling him, “My Nan told me years ago that she had a guardian angel.”
“Oh yeah?”
You nodded, before explaining, “She left her purse on the bus, with the money she needed for the rent. She said that was so distraught that she couldn’t go home and tell my grandad, in case he got angry. She was sitting on a bench when a man went up to her and gave her her purse. Weird thing was, not only did she not have any photo identification, but she never saw that man on the bus. After he left, she went after him to thank him, but when she turned a corner, he was gone. Just vanished.”
“Shit,” Tom exclaimed as his doe eyes widened.
“I know it sounds unbelievable, but stranger things have happened.”
Tom giggled when you asked him, “What about you? Do you believe in guardian angels?”
Tom sighed, before telling you, “Well, to be honest, I never really believed in all that. That is, until I met you.”
Your eyes widened, hearing what he told you. Tom gulped, before confessing, “Since you came to the park, you’ve been so good to me. And if I’m honest, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come here.”
You silently gazed at him, as he continued to confess, “Look, I’m still not completely over Ruth, I mean, I’ve been with her since we were fifteen. But... I really do like you, and I’d like us to be...more than mates.”
You gasped, as you looked away from him. You were in shock after what Tom confessed. Suddenly, tears ran down your cheeks, feeling confused. You liked him, but you didn’t want to be with him while he was still healing.
You heard Tom sniffle, before saying to you, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it...”
You heard the couch creak, before hearing footsteps heading to the door. The next second, you heard the door open and then slam shut.
A short moment later, you looked up, as you heard Tom cuss in the distance. You quickly went up to your window, as you sniffled, and watched a weeping Tom marching to his home.
A few moments later, Tom forcibly opened his door and slammed it behind him, before he sat down on his bed and uncontrollably sobbed.
He hadn’t meant for the confession to slip out. He still loved Ruth, even after what she did. But he also had developed feelings for you. Who wouldn’t? You had been so good to him after what happened with Ruth, but he was now wondering if he mistook your kindness for romantic feelings.
Suddenly, he heard pounding on the door. “Whoever that it is, just go away!” He sobbed, when the pounding continued. Tom got up, and shouted as he opened the door, “Are you fuckin’ deaf?! I said-“
It was you.
Tom murmured your name when you suddenly wrapped your arms around his waist, as you burst into tears.
“I’m sorry,” you apologised, as you buried your face into his chest. “I’m sorry, Tom.”
Tom wrapped his arms around you, as he asked, “Why are you apologising for? I was the one who fucked up.”
You shook your head, as you confessed, “I really like you too. But it wouldn’t be fair to pursue a relationship with you while you’re still healing.”
Tom brought you inside, bringing you in the warm, before he shut the door while holding you.
He stroked your hair, before he sat you down on his bed.
He held you, as he asked you, “Do you mean it? That you like me, as more than a mate?”
You looked up at him, as you nodded, before telling him, “But like I said, you’re still going through a healing process. And I don’t want to be a rebound.”
“I understand,” Tom replied, as he wiped your tears away. “You really are an angel.”
You softly giggled, as rubbed your eye.
You both gazed at each other for a moment, before you cleared your throat. You then stood up, and were about to leave, when Tom grabbed your hand. You turned to him, thinking that he was going to ask you to stay over, but instead, he stood up, and said to you, “Let me walk you home.”
“Now who’s being an angel?” You giggled, making Tom chuckle.
A moment later, you and Tom were silently walking to your place. As you reached your door, you turned to him and thanked him for walking you home.
“You’re welcome, angel,” Tom replied, making you giggle at your new nickname. You hugged him, as you bid him goodnight.
“Good night,” Tom responded, as he reciprocated the hug.
Suddenly, you jumped at the sound of foxes shrieking. “Bloody foxes,” you sighed.
“You’ll get used to it,” Tom giggled.
Months had past since that night. The two of you remained close friends, even when things had changed in the park. Kai had gone to work somewhere else, which was a relief for Tom. Shirley found a few new employees, so that meant you were allowed to work in maintenance again with Tom, as well as a new colleague, who was much older than you two, but was far more pleasant to work with than Kai.
Another thing that happened was Tom had finally gotten over Ruth. Tom realised it when he was on shift one day, when the new colleague, Richard noticed how Tom was looking at you when he was supposed to saw a plank of wood, as you were sweeping the floor, gathering the sawdust with the dustpan and brush, before chucking the sawdust in the bin. “I’m surprised that you two aren’t a couple.” The older man lowly asked Tom.
“Sorry?” Tom asked, as he began to saw the plank.
Richard chuckled, before quietly telling him, “I see the way you two look at each other, lad. Even Shirley can see it.”
Tom quickly looked at you, as you put away the broom and dustpan, before turning back to Richard, who said, “Unless of course, this Ruth girl still has your heart-“
“I’m over Ruth,” Tom blurted out, before he quickly turned to you, finding that you weren’t there, much to his relief.
Richard then patted Tom’s shoulder, as he told him, “Well, since you’re over Ruth, it’s about time you told her.”
“Told who what?” You asked, as you went back inside.
“Oh,um...” Tom began to hesitate, when Richard said to you, as patted Tom’s shoulder, “That he wants to cook dinner for you tonight.”
“Oh,” you exclaimed, before you smiled and replied, “Okay. What time?”
“About six?” Tom asked.
You nodded as you answered, “I’ll be there at six.”
Tom smiled when you told both men, “If you don’t need me here, I’ll ask Shirley if there’s anything she needs me to do.”
As both men said goodbye to you, you waved as you left. Tom stared at Richard as he told him, “I can’t believe you done that.”
Richard chuckled as he retorted, “Well someone’s gotta give you both a push.”
You arrived at Tom’s place hours later. You were about to knock on the door, when it opened, revealing a smiling Tom. “Hi,” he greeted you.
“Hi,” you greeted back, as he let you in. As soon as you went inside and took off your coat, Tom took it off you and hung it up. You thanked him, when he said, “Have a seat. Dinner’s almost ready.”
As you sat down, Tom was gathering the plates, before getting a couple of glasses of water and placed them on the table. You watched him dish up Spaghetti Bolognese onto the plates, before adding slices of bread to the plates.
You smiled, as he brought both plates to the table. You thanked him, before taking a sip of water.
You watched Tom putting his spaghetti in between his slices of bread, before you did the same thing.
Tom giggled, as he watched you. “I didn’t think that you would still do that.”
“Well, what can I say? You’re a bad influence,” you joked, before you both took a bite of your sandwiches.
After chewing his sandwich, Tom asked, “You still working tomorrow?”
“Yeah, but Shirley’s given me the afternoon off,” you replied. “What about you?”
“I’ve got the day off. So, I’ll be going surfing in the afternoon.”
“That’s nice,” you replied, before chewing on your sandwich.
After Tom sipped his water, he suggested, “I can teach you if you like. If you haven’t got anything else planned.”
Your face lit up, as you responded, “Yeah, I’d like that. I’ve wanted to learn for a while, but I never got the chance to, you know with covering shifts, and also looking after Kippa and her nan while her grandad was in hospital.”
“At least now you can learn.”
You nodded, before taking another bite of your sandwich.
The next day, you waited at your place for Tom to arrive with a spare surf suit for you to wear. As soon as he came already in his surf suit, he gave you the suit and waited for you to get changed. After slipping into the suit, you asked Tom to help zip you up.
“Yeah sure,” he replied, as he went up to you and zipped you up.
He gulped as he gazed at you, when you turned around and told him, “Right, ready when you are.”
A moment later, you and Tom stepped out of your place and you closed the door behind you and locked it as Tom grabbed his surfboard. You then hid your key under one of your flower pots, before you both made your way to the beach.
After Tom taught you the basics, you both got in the water. “Shit! That’s cold!” You cried, as you felt the cold water covering your lower body.
Tom laughed, as he positioned his surfboard, before he helped you up on his board. You felt wobbly as you got on it, but Tom steadied you as you laid on your front and started paddling around, getting used to being on the surfboard, while he praised you.
When you felt confident, you slowly stood up, steadying yourself. But as soon as the waves came in, you started leaning backwards and fell off the board.
A worried Tom quickly swam towards you and lifted you up, bringing you to the surfboard. You coughed, as Tom asked if you were okay.
You nodded, as he rubbed your back while you moved your hair back, before Tom suggested that the two of you should head back to his home.
A few moments later, you were sitting on Tom’s couch, wearing his clothes that he lent you and a blanket around you. Tom sat down next to you and handed a cup of hot chocolate to you. “Thanks,” you said, before blowing on it, cooling it down enough for you to take a sip. As you put down your cup on the table, you told him, “Thanks again for lending me your clothes.”
“That’s alright,” Tom replied, when he heard you cough. He patted your back before asking you. “Are you okay?”
You nodded, replying, “I’m alright. Just not used to the sea water.”
You chuckled, as Tom rubbed your back. The pair of you gazed at each other for a moment, before Tom opened his mouth and began to tell you, “Listen, angel. There’s something I need to tell you...”
“Is this about your chat about Ruth with Richard yesterday?” You interjected.
Tom raised his eyebrows, as he began to ask, “How did you-?”
“I overheard you both,” you admitted, before you asked, “Is it really true? That you’re over Ruth?”
Tom immediately nodded, as he confessed, “Yes, I am. I think I’ve been over her for quite some time.”
You silently looked at him, when he confessed, “Look, angel. I don’t know if you still like me as more than a mate, but my feelings for you haven’t changed. If anything, they’ve gotten stronger.”
You gaped, as you continued to listen. “I understand if you don’t feel the same-“
��Ask me,” you interjected. A confused Tom asked you, “What?”
“What you asked me that night I took you home. If you remember?”
Tom remembered what you meant. That night when he was drunk, when he asked you if he could kiss you, which you rejected.
Tom took a deep breath, before finally asking you, “Can I...kiss you?”
You smiled, as you replied, “Yes.”
Tom grinned before he leaned forward and kissed your lips. You reciprocated as you cupped his cheek.
As you both pulled away, you both giggled when Tom asked, “So I take it that you...”
“Yes, I do,” you interjected. “My feelings for you haven’t changed either.”
Tom smiled again before you leaned in to give him a passionate kiss, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, before you straddled him. He then wrapped his arms around your waist, as you continued to kiss, when he suddenly pulled away, before he asked, “Do you want to stay the night?”
You nodded, as you replied, “Yes.” You then pressed your forehead against his as you happily sighed, before you kissed him once more.
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Chocolates & Heating Pads
A/N: 100% a self-indulgent fic written as I lay dying from cramps.
Ron had noticed the change in Jade’s demeanor throughout the last two days. He could tell she was forcing a smile when the other Lieutenants came to her for opinions on how to improve their flying. He could tell she was trying to get out of meeting with the Admirals to go over mission parameters.
A couple of nights before she had been out to dinner with friends but came back in a mood. She quickly headed to shower and went straight to bed.
As he’s watching her sitting with Dragon and Venom during their lunch, he knows what’s wrong the moment he sees her standing up slowly and placing a hand on her abdomen.
Slider goes to check his calendar and sure enough it was time for her menstrual cycle to begin. Everything from the last 48 hours clicked into place and made sense. The three showers in one day. The forced smiles. The taking pain medications every 4 to 6 hours. This was a bad period.
Normally she would be fine and experience minimal cramps. Slider knew Whiskey had a high tolerance for pain. He also knew she wouldn’t complain of pain, unless she felt really really horrible. However, it still didn’t mean it was easy to see her like this.
So what does he do for his girl? He leaves the base early and heads to the store before heading to their new apartment.
When Whiskey arrives home a few hours later, she’s already crying in pain and ready to just sleep and not see anyone for days. To her surprise, Slider is already home and waiting for her.
“Sli… I’m no-.”
“Shhh. It’s okay honey. I know. I’m not here for that. I’m here to take care of you. Go to the bathroom. Take a long shower. Then go to bed. I put pain relievers and water on your bedside table,” he says before kissing her tenderly.
Whiskey just cries some more of how much this tiny gesture touched her.
He pulls her in for a hug and rubs her back. “Go. I’ll have chocolates and a heating pad waiting for you.”
Whiskey obeys and goes to shower and once she’s in his sweats and a hoodie, she takes the pain relievers and sits up on the bed.
Slider returns to the bedroom with a tray and the chocolates laid out on their fancy serving plates, along with a cup of chamomile tea. “I added a shot of that lavender syrup Dragon made.”
“I love you Sli,” Whiskey says.
“I love you too, my beautiful lover.”
He makes sure she’s comfortable before going back to the kitchen to bring another platter. “This time I brought pizza and chips and cookies and wings… We can get back to working out next week. Today and tomorrow we let you rest and give in to your cravings.”
Whiskey’s eyes again tear up. “Why are you this amazing and perfect?”
“Because I learned from you,” he says, kissing her once more before turning on the tv.
- -
Discord 🏷 List: @callsign-dragonbaron @cycbaby @callsignscupcake @mtnofgrace @bayisdying @askmarinaandothers @cosmicshrine @breadsquash @callsignthirsty @mischief-siriusly-managed @persephonesportal
Forever 🏷 List: @callmemana
#mrsjaderogerswrites#top gun#the choas squad#the chaos squad fics#top gun fic#slider x whiskey#whiskey x slider#ron slider kerner#Jade Whiskey Rogers
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follow up to this ❤️💚
When he wakes in the deepest recess of the night, Cas is not asleep at his side.
He rubs the sleep from his eyes and glances around the room. He doesn’t need to turn on the light on the bedside table to know. The space next to him in the bed is cold, the room is empty.
He’s alone.
His stomach drops to the space between his knees as he pushes himself upright. His heart is a pitter-patter in his chest; the blood rushing in his ears a deafening roar.
“Cas?” Dean calls out uselessly. He swings his legs gingerly over the side of the bed and walks slowly to his door, turning the knob and stepping into the hall.
“Cas?!” He calls out again, louder this time, glancing down both sides of the corridor and listening for movement. He sees nothing, hears nothing.
His heart begins to hammer against his ribs, and his mind starts to race.
Shit.
He walks a little too quickly throughout the bunker, ignoring the pain that slams from his back through his chest at the movement, and checks the kitchen, then the library. When it’s empty too, he heads into the war room.
He spots Cas’s phone on the map table, and when he walks over to tap the screen, the time glares back at him.
2:32
Dean takes a deep breath. He thinks for a moment, and when an idea comes to him, he tosses on his jacket hanging on the back of one of the chairs.
He heads for the garage.
When Dean opens the side garage door, it creaks and groans loudly in protest. A quick scan of the woodlands behind the bunker finds Cas standing in the middle of a small clearing, wrapped in a thick, oversized blanket that trails at his feet in the frozen dirt.
Relief floods through him like waves on the ocean. His shoulders drop, tension ebbing from his muscles, and he shuts the door gently behind him instead of letting it clang against the frame.
Cas is looking up at the diamond-studded sky, and Dean smiles as he watches.
He zippers up his coat against the mid-winter chill as the breeze hits against him, swaying against the rustling branches high above. He inhales deeply, the scent of the cold air mixing with the towering bald cypress trees cleansing his lungs. He approaches Cas silently, hand reaching out to caress his back, palm gripping his shoulder gently as he stands next to him.
Cas sighs and lets his eyes flutter shut for the briefest of moments.
“Hello, Dean.”
A huff of breath escapes his nose in a chuckle.
“Hey,” he smiles, letting his hand squeeze Cas’s neck affectionately. “Leave a note next time, huh? Scared the crap outta me.” He keeps his voice gentle, teasing, and Cas turns his chin to meet Dean’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he says solemnly, eyes drifting to the ground before meeting his again. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
Dean smiles, rubbing soothing circles against Castiel’s shoulder blade. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m just sayin’,” he murmurs, and they both turn their faces towards the sky.
It’s a cloudless night. There are stars everywhere. The moon is high and full and shining. It’s beautiful.
“All things bein’ equal?” he continues, watching Cas’s reaction in his periphery, “I’d rather you wake me up than just wakin’ without you next to me.”
Cas thins his lips into a sad smile that doesn’t reach his eyes as he casts them to the ground. Dean tries again.
“I dunno if you’ve noticed, but...I don’t need to sleep with a gun under my pillow these days. So it’s not like I’ll accidentally shoot ya.”
Cas’s eyes close then, a rueful chuckle escaping his lips as his chin drops a little to his chest. Dean can tell he’s holding something back.
The former angel is crestfallen.
Dean’s brow furrows in concern, and he wraps his hands around Cas’s wrists to tug him towards him so that they’re face to face. He lets his hands travel to frame his cheeks.
When Cas’s eyes open, they glisten with tears.
“Hey,” he whispers, crowding closer into Cas’s space. “What’s goin’ on?”
Cas makes an attempt to shake his head, to try to dismiss Dean’s worry.
“No no—” Dean says gently. “Talk to me.”
Cas screws his eyes shut, tears falling in moon-bathed streams down his cheeks before he meets Dean’s gaze.
“I’m not an angel anymore,” he murmurs quietly.
Dean’s chest aches at the pain in Cas’s voice as he tilts his head in sympathy. He sounds so small and vulnerable, but there’s something else there, too.
Dean’s thumbs stroke against Cas’s cheekbones, feather-light. “I know,” he whispers, tears of his own sneaking into his throat.
But he has to be strong.
“I can’t imagine—”
“How can I ever be enough for you like this?”
Dean freezes mid-sentence. His heart sinks before it shatters, bleeding in the space between his feet. The crease between his eyes deepens as he frowns, eyes widening in disbelief.
“What?”
Cas steps out of Dean’s hold, and the fallen leaves crunch beneath his feet. He wraps the blanket tighter around him as he turns to face the sky again.
The roaring in Dean’s ears return, and he stares at Cas’s profile. Nausea starts to spread and twist like ribbons in his stomach.
“I don’t have the ability to heal. I can’t teleport. I can’t...do any of the things I used to,” Cas breathes, voice firm as stone. He’s not looking for pity, not looking for anything to challenge his thoughts.
He’s just being.
Dean’s head is spinning, and he’s so flabbergasted he can’t formulate words in his mouth.
Cas turns his head to meet him again. “How could I make up for that now?” As just a human goes unspoken; but Dean hears it all the same.
In that moment, he feels the rebar ripping through his gut all over again. He steels himself against the urge to double over.
“I don’t know how to be worthy enough,” he continues, voice solemn and jaded and numb all at once. “I don’t know how to be enough—for you—as just...this.” he finishes then, glancing himself up and down, hands stretched out in a shrug before crossing his arms with the blanket again. Cas sighs heavily as he rotates on his heel to stare up at the moon, his back to Dean.
All of the air leaves his lungs. His heart speeds up a little in a panic. He stares unblinkingly at Cas’s silhouette, and the wind gusts in the woods around them. He can hear the branches rustling above, and he can see Castiel’s thick hair swaying against the wind, sticking up every which way.
His stomach rolls. His mouth goes dry.
“Enough?” Dean mumbles in a hoarse whisper, more to himself than anything else. He strides forward, grabbing onto one of Castiel’s shoulders as he walks to stand in front of him.
Cas won’t meet his eyes. He just keeps staring at the world far beyond, hidden and cloaked in darkness.
Maybe he’s looking at Heaven.
Dean sniffles and reaches both hands on Cas’s shoulders.
“How could you ever think that you ain’t enough for me?”
But if Dean’s honest with himself, he knows. He knows he’s done a pretty shit job over the years of making Cas feel valued and wanted and loved —regardless of the status of his grace.
Cas closes his eyes and sighs heavily. When he opens them, he keeps them canted to the ground between their feet. The look Dean finds on his face scares him; it’s defeated, empty.
Broken.
His shoulders sag underneath Dean’s fingers.
Castiel looks exhausted.
“Okay, look…” Dean begins, shaking Cas gently to force their eyes to meet.
“I know...I know I’ve said things, an-and done things over the years that’ve hurt you. I know we’ve had our moments. But man…”
He trails off for only a moment, letting one hand slide down Cas’s chest to fist it into his shirt, the other reaching to grasp one side of his neck.
“‘M a wreck without you,” he grits out, green eyes boring into blue. “Losin’ you...an’ every time I’ve ever lost you it just—it always almost finished me.” He pulls Cas in closer by his shirt, and Castiel’s hands fall to grip Dean’s sides to prevent himself from stumbling.
“It was never about your mojo, Cas. Ever. ‘N I’m so sorry you ever thought it was.” Dean’s eyes are watering now, and he purses his lips as he lightly punches Cas’s chest.
“It’s just always been you.”
And maybe he’s not making any sense. But Dean’s never been good with words, and his chin is trembling, and Cas’s eyes are spilling over without a blink.
They’re so fucking blue.
And Dean’s heart is tattered in pieces on the floor of his ribcage.
“You’ve always been enough.” Dean whimpers, and he lets his own tears break free through the dam of his eyelids, falling in rivulets down his stubbled cheeks.
“Just you. I need you to see that.”
He rests his cheek against Cas’s temple and wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling him into his chest as he chokes back a sob. Cas’s arms come to wrap around Dean’s middle as he nuzzles his nose into the crook of Dean’s neck.
“Please, Cas. Please believe that.” Dean chokes out, and he knows he’s babbling now. But Cas squeezes him tighter, and Dean lets his mouth fall into the swath of skin where Cas’s neck slopes into his shoulder. He crushes Cas into him.
They cry together until there are no more tears to shed; they hold each other, mending their broken pieces and bones and marrow and flesh.
The cracks in their hearts begin to heal.
Dean doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Cas’s lips are against his ear, shushing him and murmuring sweetly against the shell, hands rubbing up and down his back.
They begin to sway in each other’s arms.
“You’re it for me, Cas,” Dean sniffles. “Just you.” Not your grace, not your wings.
He pulls away to rest their foreheads together. “You hear me?”
I love you.
Castiel nods, closing his eyes before meeting green. Dean watches as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and they meet in the middle in a chaste, open-mouthed kiss. Cas’s hands come up to frame Dean’s face.
“I hear you,” Cas whispers hoarsely as they part, and he runs a hand through Dean’s hair. Dean can’t help it when his eyes flutter at the touch.
A small, cold wet sensation stuns his nose then; Dean opens his eyes and tilts his head back to see thick, fluffy snowflakes beginning to fall around them. A small chuckle escapes his throat, and Cas follows his gaze. When another snowflake lands on the bridge of Dean’s nose, Cas’s index finger comes to catch it.
Dean’s eyes fall back to his. What he finds there is marveling.
“I dunno how y’do that,” he mumbles. “Make your eyes so friggin’ blue.”
Cas just smiles through those wonderfully thick lashes. He reaches to grab one of Dean’s hands, cupping it between his own as he brings it to his lips. “It’s a gift,” he quips.
Dean chuckles with a nod, and taking advantage of their height difference, he tugs Cas forward so he can press a kiss to the muss of velvet black hair. He inhales the scent of his own shampoo that mixes with the natural essence of Castiel: earth and rain and lightning. Dean grins as Cas snuggles into his neck, pressing a kiss to the skin there.
“Wanna go back in?” he mumbles against the thick strands. Cas lets out a yawn.
“Mm-hmm.”
Dean snorts as he reaches an arm around Cas’s neck, walking them both back towards the bunker. Cas must notice him wince slightly in pain at the angle, because then he’s reaching up a hand to cover his, and there’s an arm snaking around his waist.
“Lean on me,” he commands. And it leaves no room for argument. So Dean smiles, and lets his weight sink against the man against him, who accepts it all willingly.
Just like he always has.
They’re almost at the door when Dean stills, grasping the fabric of the blanket.
“Hey,” he says. Cas stops to look at him, letting Dean turn slightly in his hold.
“Merry Christmas, Cas.”
The smile Cas gives him is like the Star of Bethlehem. Cas leans in, mouth ghosting his as their foreheads connect.
“Merry Christmas, Dean.”
#I did a thing#supernatural#destiel#deancas#destiel fic#deancas fic#destiel coda#a sort of part 2 to my last fic#merry christmas everyone❤️💚
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Chapter two: one pretty fishy
Another chapter written by @mechamastermind with illustrations done by yours truly for our Coraline NSR Au!! I apologize for the lack of illustrations
POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING, Abandonment and Neo getting in trouble
Chapter one
Neo was returned back home later as his Daddy grabbed the last of the briefcases, before calling Neo back over.
“Neo! Come on, help me carry Papa’s luggage up to his room!”
Neo was stomping around angry cause of the way his father treated him, he got a proper scolding when he came home just for being over the hill with Yinu, to Neo he was out playing with a friend, but to Neon he was out far past where he could see him, and that demanded a scolding apparently.
Neo kicked his feet through the dry piles of dirt, the terrain so old and worn out that a mini cloud of dust filled the surrounding area, leaving Neo to cough and try to fan away the debris. When the dust settled though Neo looked down and saw a glint in the yard. Buried under the falling dust seemed to be a palm sized metallic object, and Neo's natural curiosity would drive him to pick up said object.
“Neo! Come on!”
He looked closely at the thing in his hands now, pressing a little button at the top as it sprung open, revealing a system of moving gears and clicking springs. A pocket watch. None like Neo had ever seen, it was clearly very old in design yet shiny despite its age. A jade ring around the minute and hour hands, and the X’s in the roman numerals were all made in gold.
“Woah…” neo simply said, before hearing his daddy call out to him a second time.
“Coming daddy!”
Neo pocketed the watch and ran after his daddy following him up the stairs. Neon carrying the big heavy briefcase with all of Nova’s shorts, and Neo carrying the small little snow globe with the solar system in it, gently shaking it as they walked up the creaking stairs, and past bits of wallpaper peeling down like the curled nails of an elderly woman. The second story was so much more quiet than the first, the wind blows outside and into the front door, but once it starts making its way upstairs it stops dead in it's tracks. The insects they refuse to chirp on the second story, instead they do their best to crawl through the walls of the mansion without disturbing a thing. Even the wood of the stairs as they go up begins to silence itself, as creaks become quieter and quieter with each step, until even the wood falls peacefully somber. The second story was so much more quiet, it was certainly peaceful in its own way.
But even silence has its own killer, and does not live forever. As the quiet and dull silence that has draped over the second floor is suddenly cut down in its prime by a deep gutteral animalistic growling, air flowing in and out of a mighty beast. Neo froze when he first heard the hall suddenly filled with the boom of something much larger than him making its presence clear, meanwhile neon had no such fear… as he simply opened up the master bedroom door to reveal the source of sound, being that of a passed out nova face down in the bed, his snores pouring into his pillow and shaking the bedframe.
Neon walked over to the dresser, beginning to unpack the briefcase of shorts he carried, while neo walked to the bedside with his snowglobe in hand. Placing it on the nightstand next to nova, as he turned the key on its side… playing Neo’s favorite tune. Neo looked to his Papa for approval, thinking it might rouse the beast from his slumber. But nova’s eye was still shut even if pointed at Neo… Neo reached up to tug on his papa’s sleeve. Tug tug. He was only responded to with a small groan as Nova laid their still asleep.
“Papa… Can you play yet?” Neo asked, and before he could get his answer Neon scooped him up under his arms and held him to his chest.
“No buts neo… If you want to play with someone so badly, let's go find someone then!”
“No No Neo, let Papa rest, he had a long night driving…”
“But…”
“I…” Neo looked down at his feet, kicking them softly as Neon took him out of this room, and watched the door shut on his sleeping father.
“...Can I go play with Yinu?” He asked,
“Oh neo no one lives around here but us in the mansion… Oh! How about we go meet our new neighbors! I hear there’s a group of young kids!”
“Yinu? I don’t know any Yinu here.”
“Oh! She’s the girl I met in the field!”
Neo pouted once more, he knew of the group his father was talking about, he overheard him talking with papa about the other mansion tenets, the people living on the first floor were a group of college students, still much older than Neo, but comparatively young to Neon. But he was already in daddy’s arms and he couldn’t quite reach the floor anymore, so it was off to meet the neighbors, to his disappointment.
First it was down the stairs, the first floor, past the entry room that led up the stairs to the other tenants. Neon stood in front of the first floor housing, with Neo in his arms. The door was the oldest one in the house, the tenants having done nothing to repair it even as it hung off its hinges. What they did do was manage to carve their initials into the front of it, “D, R, S, T.” there was also a newly installed doorbell made of sleek and shiny plastic, sticking out against the backdrop of the aging house. Neon reached out and pressed the button, making a horribly loud buzzing noise, as both Neon and Neo had a bit of a jump. Neo was set down at the door, as the crashing of foot steps came from behind it, door knob slowly turning, breathing heavy, shadow stretching out underneath the doorframe. Click.
Door swung open, and a tall man with blue skin, covered in large white orbs all across his jacket looked down at Neo, holding all the emotion in his face. For a few seconds there was just silence between Neo and this stranger. Neo’s eyes quickly scanning him up and down as his child mind raced to try and find anything comforting, but he looked so cold, and what didn’t help was the katana strapped to his back, worrying neo even more. The silence finally broken by Neon as he greeted the young man,
“Dodo! How are you?” Neo felt reassured by the sound of his Daddy’s voice, but the blue man would not respond… Neo still felt unnerved by his lack of a smile…
“I wanted my boy to see your fun project! Perhaps you can show him?” Neon said, and this lit up the blue man's eyes, as he looked down at the young neo with a smile of excitement now, he stepped out of the doorway to reveal a hall lined with fish tanks, and at the very end was a door with many flashing colors coming from underneath it. Neo felt his fear all wash away as suddenly he felt at ease seeing the man finally smile, and the beautiful tanks full of fishies behind him. Neon gently pushing him inside as Dodo lead him in.
Neo ran straight up to the fish tanks along the wall, bouncing on his toes with glee. He peered into the glass boxes, and into their bright colorful miniature worlds, each one designed specifically for them. Each one seemed to only hold a single fishy, and it was given the entire tank to play around inside of, filled with glowing castles, divers that created bubbles, and plenty of moving parts to keep the small fishes entertained.
Atop her shoulders in place of a head, there was blue ringed octopus instead, gurgling its tentacles out at neo much to his fright as he leapt like a cat into Mr. Dodo’s arms. The others extremely disappointed as well as their creation turned into a half fish, half human, half octopus monster of legend. So they gave it all a hard reboot, and once it was gone from their sight everyone slowly began to laugh at the experience. The girl in the pink hoodie hanging to Neo a poster, a design of what it was meant to be, and there on that poster was “Sayu”, a pretty mermaid girl with adorable features, bouncy hair, and a fish tail.
Mr. Dodo opened the next door, the sound of music bopping in the background as it led into a backroom, lit only by colorful nontraditional lights, like Christmas lights strung up against the wall, or the dozens of computer monitors sat around a small glowing table. Sitting at that table were three other kids, all college aged roughly the same as Mr. Dodo. There was a larger man in a yellow tee, wearing an umbrella hat. Next to him was a girl in a pink hoodie, her face hidden by her attire as she didn’t look much at Neo. And lastly there was a boy in a plaid shirt and shorts. Each one hunched over a monitor with a piece of recording equipment in front of them, a microphone, drawing tablet, and a simple mouse and keyboard. Everyone's eyes lit up though when neo walked into the room, the boy in the plaid shirt standing up. He began pointing at the others in the room, despite their silence they all seemed to be on the exact same page, they began to work overtime for Neo, as the table in front of them lit up like a mini projector beaming its light upwards at the ceiling. All the other lights were switched down until there was only the glowing of the projector. And suddenly the light began to move and form a shape, starting from the bottom neo watched particles fall together and form a fishy tail, a bright and colorful pattern along its scales, then the middle, the waist was made, the torso and the arms, of a pretty and thin little woman, dainty and elegant her form was, complimenting her bubble gum like skin… Neo was enthralled seeing this amazing light show turn the air into this pretty lady.
At that moment one of the monitors exploded, lights began to flicker, as the rest of the girl was rendered. Poorly.
Neo enjoyed the rest of the hour he spent with the Sayu Crew, even though they did not talk very much at all, they mostly sat around on their devices trying to remake Sayu again and get her modeling correct, occasionally taking breaks to drink sparkling water and stare at the fishes in the tanks for inspiration. Neo’s favorite part was the fish tanks, each fish seemed so happy in that little box, and shined so brightly.
At the end of the hour neon came back around to see a much happier looking Neo being brought out to him with a little mini bottle of lemon sparkling water. Scooping him up under the arms and holding him to his chest, Neon thanked the Sayu crew for their friendliness and carried his boy back outside and down the steps, towards the lower floor now, residing under the house itself.
Neon held neo in his arms, and stood in front of a painted door split down the middle in two coats of paint, on one half was white, and the other half was pink. To Neo the bright colors of the door were slightly alarming, they weren’t gently painted like the rest of the house, they were bright and vibrant, splattered on by paintbrush.
Neon took his hand and pounded it lightly against the door, only to find it slowly creak open…
Neon sat his boy down on his feet, taking his hand as he walked him into the bottom tenants housing, calling out to her.
“Miss Eve? Miss eve? Are you home?”
Neo looked around the hallway they walked in, to see the divots in the walls, and along those divots there rested statues of a woman's head, her skin tone split down the middle, pink and white, long blonde hair, her busts lined the walls.
At the end of the hallway Neon and Neo walked into a large dugout, surrounding this hexagonal room were even more statues of this woman, standing in various positions and holding various objects. And in the middle standing atop a ladder with a chisel and bucket of paint in hand, was the very subject of all these statues, Miss Eve herself. Neo was wandering around the room, excited at all the fresh buckets of paint, as Eve was mindlessly painting her latest statue.
Neo tapped a green paint can, expecting it full but finding it very empty, it shifted off the edge of the desk and fell onto the floor. The sudden sound shifted Eve off her ladder as she took a step off the ladder from surprise. The buckets of paint she was holding in her hands going flying and clattering against the floor completely recoloring the room.
Neon gave his boy a scolding look as neo began to rub his arms. He ran over to help eve up as she seemed quite upset.
“Did you not hear us coming in, eve?”
“Neon could you go fetch me more buckets, they’re in the back room.” Eve asked, Neon nodding as he went and fetched buckets.
“I was in my minds eye…”
She looked over at Neo, frowning at him as he shrunk in on himself…
Eve walking up the step ladder again, but when she walked up the top she looked down at the floor, and saw what the paint cans had fallen into, the paint splattered in a beautiful but completely random pattern, and this put a smile on eve’s face, suddenly from upset to very happy as she looked down at neo now, seeing a tiny artist.
She stepped off the ladder and knelt down in front of the boy with cupped hands against her cheek.
“Well hello there little artist! I’m afraid we didn’t get introduced properly… I’m eve.”
But neo didn’t respond back, he was still startled by the mess he made and worried about the trouble he was in. It was quite clear he was very close to crying… that’s when eve got an idea.
She went over to her fridge and pulled out one of her Artistic Juice boxes, neo’s eyes almost instantly lit up as he saw her pull it out.
She walked back over to him with the juice box in hand, as she looked down at the tiny artist,
“Perhaps you’d like some juice? I find juice helps me when I feel down…”
Neo bounced as he looked at the extremely tall woman with the juice. Reaching up with the grabbiest of hands, clamming up at her wanting the juice already.
She pulled the straw off the back and poked it into the top for him, kneeling down as she handed it off. His eyes sparkling for a moment as he took a long hard sip.
Neon walked back in to see his boy and eve giggling over two juice boxes, their feet covered in paint as they stomped around on the wet floor.
Neon darted over taking neo up into his arms, a mix of frustration and concern.
“Thank you miss eve for your hospitality but I think we must be going now.” Said Neon, as he took away neo and carried him back up to their floor, passing by the other boys as they all walked to their rooms for the night.
Neon set him back down in the kitchen as he sat him against a kitchen chair, pulling his shoes off as they were absolutely covered and ruined with paints.
Neon was upset for sure, so he left neo in the kitchen for a moment, coming back escorting a half asleep Nova into the kitchen, as Neon pointed down at his feet and the shoes on the floor.
“Look what our boy did, his shoes got ruined!” Neon exclaimed, as Nova began to frown at neo… Neo felt a new level of fear he didn’t know he had before… as he watched his large space dad kneel in front of him, picking up one of his shoes and holding it.
“Neo… What were you doing to make your shoes all messy?” Nova asked, as neo couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes.
“I was… painting with miss eve… and stepped in the wet paint…” Nova simply sighed as he shook his head.
“You can’t be ruining your shoes like this Neo… Your father will take you to get new ones in the morning.” He was so stern and direct, and Neo felt his heart sink…
“You mean… you won’t take me, Papa?”
“No Neo, i’ve got work to do.”
“...But I didn’t… get to see you all day…”
Neo felt his little heart twist as he was about ready to cry, he hadn’t spent time with his Papa in days it felt like, and it was just too much for him to handle… He tilted his head down as a few tears began to roll down his cheeks, hidden to both of his father’s… as nova simply turned away and went back to bed.
Neo felt the tears burst like dams holding back too much water, as Nova leaving felt like the last straw. He hopped off his chair with one arm covering his eyes, darting past Neon who was too slow to catch him. Neo ran to his room, eyes tucked into his elbow soaking his sleeve as Neon stood back and just watched him run, gently sighing as he felt pain in his heart as well…
Neo leapt into his bed, boxes upon boxes of unpacked toys and clothes stacked to adult height levels in his room, the only thing he had ready for him was a blanket and pillow, of which he held onto tightly as he poured the rest of his tears into it…
Minutes and one tear stained pillow later, neo was laying there clutching onto it still, as his sobbing turned to sniffling and all he could do was look at his door, wishing, waiting, hoping that maybe Papa would come back and apologize, and tell him they’ll look at the stars again together…
Neo ended up staring at the door for hours.
Waiting.
He fell asleep waiting.
Another time, another place… large fingers, massive like loaves of bread descended down carefully against a workshop desk. Atop this desk laid a small mouse, as if disassembled of all it's parts. One by one the pieces were picked up, cogs and gears, springs and levers, in such massive hands carefully putting it back together again. The eyes put back into place, a tail reattached. But when all the pieces came back together it looked like any other mouse, just with a small keyhole in its back. It was missing the final touch. The massive hands reached into the desk, pulling open the large drawer to reveal a collection of hundreds of keys, various shapes and sizes, materials and textures. It hovered over the pearl section for the longest time, sometimes switching back and forth between it and the silver keys… but ultimately deciding on the bronze keys, picking one up and rubbing it in oil and wiping it clean with a delicate rag, before slowly pushing it into the back of the mouse. Locking into place as it turned the key several times, winding up now…
The mouse sprung to life as soon as the hands let go, scurrying across the desk before leaping into a grandfather clock and disappearing.
“You’re coming home soon, neo.”
Chapter three
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⚬ pairing: seungcheol x reader.
⚬ word count: 4865.
⚬ warnings: drinking / smoking.
⚬ genre: mostly angst, fluff, some suggestive/borderline nsfw scenes. a casual life!au? (meaning he isn’t an idol)
✧✎ synopsis: seungcheol knows you’re no longer together, that he should’t be thinking about you as often as he does, and yet, you keep appearing. his heart doesn’t know how many times it can afford to split.
✧✎ a/n: i really wanted to write smth as i work toward finishing that other massive fic. so HERE. bc i miss seungcheol ;-; and idk i just like angst lol.
i.
Seungcheol doesn’t know if it’s right for him to be looking at you like this. It doesn’t necessarily feel wrong, but there’s a distinct craving in his gaze that spots him with doubt. You’re not together any more. The chapter where your lives were once romantically intertwined was coldly shut months ago, leaving little room for reconciliation or even the most surface-level of acquaintances. Yet, Seungcheol is struck with a sudden pining as his eyes inspect you from top to bottom across the room, finding it pure luck you were both at the same new year’s party.
There’s a doorway from the living room that leads into the kitchen. Seungcheol is sitting on the sofa with a jade-tinted bottle in his hand, though the amount of alcohol he’s consumed since first arriving has greatly subsided. He’s too distracted by you to even raise the bottle to his lips, nor does he adequately listen when Joshua attempts a conversation. You’re talking to some people he doesn’t recognize, your eyes rather milky and a shiny can in your hand. He stares at the side of your neck and thinks it would be nice if he were giving you a hickey right now.
“Hey.” Joshua bumps Seungcheol’s shoulder and the boy finally turns his head.
He sees Wonwoo and Hansol as well, who give Seungcheol a warm glance. He notes that Hansol is carrying his signature black lunchbox.
Joshua then leans toward Seungcheol’s ear in order to whisper over the music: “We’re going outside to smoke, you coming or not?”
Seungcheol shakes his head. “Pass,” he says, “I don’t really feel like it.”
He pays attention to the beer in his hand, titling his head back as he gulps down a significant amount of the tangy, bubbly flavour. It doesn’t taste that good, and the bottle’s not even cold at this point, but Seungcheol figures he should just finish it anyways. Joshua sees you in the kitchen, leaning generously against the sink while you attempt to smile at the strangers who converse with you. It was worth a try to get Seungcheol off the couch and away from lamenting at your lost relationship, but he’s unimaginably stubborn when he wants to be.
“Okay,” Joshua replies, patting his shoulder, “don’t get too hung up or anything.”
Seungcheol watches the small crowd weave their way through the congregation to reach the patio door, the last he glimpses of Joshua being his bright blue hat before he slips into the chilly night. Quickly, Seungcheol polishes off the remaining alcohol inside the jade bottle, heavily swallowing the deep burn that melts down his throat while deserting the glass on the arm of the couch. He senses a distant thrumming in his cranium, knows he’ll regret every sip by morning, but for now he cares so very little.
As he leans back in his seat, Seungcheol comes to focus on the body that’s suddenly standing right in front of him. It’s weird, who would do that? However, the breath instantly whisks from the boys’ lungs when he realizes that it’s not just some intoxicated, fucked up stranger who isn’t even cognisant of what room they’re in. It’s you. You’re standing in front of him, to which Seungcheol poorly hides the stupor that colours his face. Before he can stumble out a single word, you’re straddling his lap and settling your hands against his firm shoulders.
Evidently, Seungcheol doesn’t know what the hell is happening. Neither of you are in a sober headspace. Furthermore, he hasn’t touched you (let alone been this close to you) in almost three months. Out of habituality, he grabs the familiar warmth of your waist, the simple contact with your skin igniting an emotion that was once wholly repressed. Staring into your eyes, he sees how foggy they are. He knows his can’t look much different.
“W-What are you doing?” Seungcheol stutters, his cheeks hot and sunset pink.
At first, you don’t speak, only crack a small smile while wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing your faces in close proximity until you’re practically breathing the same air.
You blink at him heavily. “Kiss me.” You whisper against his mouth.
Seungcheol doesn’t believe he’s capable of ever denying you.
The next few hours seem to seamlessly blend together. Seungcheol remembers the intense make-out that ensued on the couch and the little regard he carried for the environment around him. Once he tastes the sharp liquor from your lips, he completely submits to that catastrophic buzz you give him. Feeling your weight push down against his lap, how your fingertips slip through his soft, onyx hair, the way it feels morally wrong to welcome your tongue into his mouth, but so physically right that Seungcheol can only pull your hips closer.
He remembers the warm, open-mouthed kisses he nipped to your sensitive neck, murmuring in a slurred, gritty tone: “let me take you upstairs, baby.”
Joshua might throw the remainder of Hansol’s stale bong water over his head if he discovered what you and Seungcheol did. Somehow, there’s an empty bedroom available at the end of the dim corridor. After falling onto the sheets, you hastily pull the white top over your head and fling it toward a dusky corner, reaching for Seungcheol as he climbs over top your body. While pressing more heated kisses against your throat, already bruising and marked with indents from his teeth, Seungcheol’s hand rubs a sweet friction between your thighs, right over your jeans.
He hears you release a small cry of his name, your nails dragging down his back.
Nothing has ever made his heart shake more.
ii.
Seungcheol is confused as to what time is it. There’s no alarm clock on the bedside table, and his phone is buried within the pocket of his navy green jacket slumped at the end of the bed. He can’t hear much from the level beneath him. Looking toward the blinds, he can only gauge slits of the night sky. All of a sudden, there’s a sickly coughing noise from behind the shut bathroom door, to which he views a small sliver of yellow light underneath. Seungcheol notes the empty space beside him. He hears another cough, followed by a pained and irritated groan.
Damn – you have to be hungover.
Stumbling drearily out from the bed, Seungcheol brushes away the black strands of hair that flop before his eyes. He almost topples over trying to get his boxers back on. The pounding in his head isn’t unbearable, and he figures he’ll be fine after getting some water in his system and dozing off to a few painkillers. Seungcheol taps his knuckles against the bathroom door.
“Hey,” he calls out, his voice still thick with sleep, “how bad is it?”
There’s a moment of silence. Seungcheol assumes it must feel bizarre to have your ex consoling you through a hangover, especially considering the history of last night.
“I don’t know…” comes your weak response, “I think I’m dying.”
Seungcheol leans his head against the wood and laughs. “You’re not dying, honey. Can I come in?”
The door swings open, and Seungcheol sees you half-dressed in your white t-shirt and underwear, a watery film in your eyes and a look of pure exhaustion draining your countenance. Then, you’re immediately collapsing back to the cold tiling, leaning your head against the side of the bathtub while the toilet sits across from you. This doesn’t feel like an unfamiliar scene. Seungcheol used to always nurture you through your intoxication, and at least this time you possess enough strength to stand without your legs trembling.
“You want me to get you anything?” Seungcheol asks. “Water? A wet cloth? Some pills?”
He doesn’t know where he’ll get the pills. It’s probably three in the morning, but he figures the convenience store in town might still be open.
You swallow tightly and wrap your arms around your knees, the fluorescent lights gleaming against your balmy, flushed skin. It seems as though you won’t look him in the eyes. Seungcheol understands. This isn’t supposed to be happening. Neither of you should be in this bedroom.
A poignant sigh escapes your chest. “What’s wrong with me?” You ask, the water glimmering bright in your eyes. “Why did we do this?”
Seungcheol stiffens. When he catches a glimpse of his body in the mirror, he can read the hazy extent of your night together. The bruises are tinted like cherry and violets, smudged against his chest, his collarbone and neck. Even now, as he really concentrates, Seungcheol can feel the cool air sting dully against his back, which he can only hypothesize is decorated in long, deep scratches that will possibly burn like hell in the shower. His body hasn’t looked like this in months. There’s a clandestine part of him that wishes the marks will never lose their vibrancy.
He doesn’t know how to soothe your conflict.
Instead, Seungcheol takes a seat on the edge of the bathtub and stares down at you tenderly.
“I don’t know,” he replies, “we don’t always make the right decisions.”
You tilt your head back and meet his eyes. Seungcheol’s chest flutters.
For a moment, you look like you want to say something; however, an immediate grimace wrinkles your face and a tight hand is curling around your stomach. You scoot close to the toilet, holding onto its rim while a heavy cough burns acrid against your throat and suddenly, you’re upchucking the potent, venomous liquor from last night. Seungcheol collects your hair in his hand, pulling it back from your face. Once the surges calm for a few minutes, you’re too energy-depleted to do much apart from hang over the toilet, Seungcheol rubbing your back.
It’s three in the morning, but he feels like he would do anything for you.
iii.
Seungcheol opens his wallet and forks out the bills necessary to cover his lunch. He slides out from the booth first, accompanied by Seokmin and Jeonghan who suggested they go out to eat after their basketball game. Seungcheol trails behind them on his phone as they walk down a slim corridor toward the front of the restaurant. He’s texting Joshua about what their fridge looks like, and if it’s necessary to ask Jeonghan about making a stop at the supermarket. The afternoon light is dull as they enter the front house, and Seungcheol sees it’s raining outside.
“Wait—,” Jeonghan stops them before they can leave. “Let me try the gumball machine. Does anyone have ten cents?”
“The gumball machine?” Seokmin laughs. “Are you a child?”
“Shut up.” Jeonghan tuts in response. “I want a pink one. Now do you have ten cents or not?”
“Sheesh, give me a second, I’m checking.”
Seungcheol has developed the skill of tuning out their innocuous banter. He looks through the windows and into the downpour, which ripples unforgivingly against the glass and slicks the pavement. For their sake, he’s glad Jeonghan was able to find a parking spot across the street. As the boy gets down on his knee and crams the small coin into the slot, cranking the handle, something manages to catch in Seungcheol’s peripheral vision. His heart skips a beat. You’re looking out the window while nibbling worrisomely upon your bottom lip.
“Are you freaking kidding? Orange? That’s the worst.”
“Why does it matter?” Seokmin quips. “They all taste the same.”
Jeonghan huffs petulantly. “But I wanted pink! Do you have another ten cents?”
Seungcheol hasn’t seen you since your wicked hangover at the New Year’s party. Though it’s a moment of the past, he remembers the situation so vividly, even more so how restless he felt afterward. He was unable to remove you from his mind, and he thought about you so often that he felt the ache with his whole chest. You haven’t noticed him yet. Seungcheol wants to approach you, though he’s not sure how kindly you’ll react or if you’ll brush him off.
“Awe, yes! Pink!”
Jeonghan stands triumphantly from the gumball machine. He holds the pink candy between his fingers and gets ready to pop it straight in his mouth, and yet, the slippery thing flings from his grasp at the last second. The gumball hits the floor, rolling outside into the rain just as someone runs indoors with their umbrella. Seokmin starts cackling, and Jeonghan just looks like he wants to go home. But Seungcheol can’t leave right now. He decides he has to talk to you.
“Meet you guys in the car,” he says, “I have to do something first.”
Seungcheol taps you on the shoulder. You jump slightly, and he feels bad about scaring you, but he’s relieved to see that your expression is cordial rather than aggravated. It blatantly feels strange. You don’t resemble a stranger, yet you’re not extremely clear to him either.
“Seungcheol? Did you eat here?”
The boy nods. “Yeah, I came here after basketball with some friends”
“O-Oh,” you stutter, looking off to the side, “I’m just waiting.”
You then gesture out the window, toward the grey, heavy rain. Seungcheol spots Seokmin and Jeonghan walking across the street, sporting their jackets pulled over their heads, looking somewhat like imbeciles who he has a soft spot for. At one point you were close with both of them, but now Seungcheol doesn’t even know if you still keep in touch. When you broke up, your worlds started floating apart, and that included contact with each other’s friends.
“Right,” Seungcheol snaps his fingers, “you’re still doing the tutoring thing at the library, huh?”
A timid smile pulls on your lips. “I’m tutoring someone today, but it’s so rainy out. I don’t think it’s gonna pass very soon.”
Seungcheol finds that he doesn’t even process what comes out from his mouth. There’s a sudden rush of giddiness in his veins, and he feels like his nervous, sophomore-self that once crushed on you before your relationship even started. At the same time, it’s an offer he used to make without thought when you were dating, and it warps into a conflicting, emotional mess.
“Do you want my windbreaker?” He asks, plucking at the black and white fabric. “It’s waterproof and stuff.”
Your mouth hangs open for a little bit.
“Uhm… I just—I don’t know, you don’t have to—,”
“It doesn’t matter, seriously.” Seungcheol replies, staring into your wide eyes with a soft expression. “Just give it back whenever we see each other again, okay?”
You lick your lips, swallowing tautly before nodding your head. Seungcheol removes his jacket and helps you slip into the material. It’s a little bit big on you, and the hood droops down far over your face, but, god, seeing you in his clothes engenders Seungcheol’s heart to beat so unbelievably fast. He experiences a concoction of different emotions, different memories. He remembers how it felt seeing you wear his t-shirt after the first time you slept together, how he felt when you’d set up a long distance skype call and you’d be dressed in his old hoodie.
Everything comes rushing back. He doesn’t want to walk away from you, but he knows it’s wrong to linger. You don’t belong to each other anymore.
But at least he’ll get to see you again.
iv.
Seungcheol bounces the basketball a few times against the lacquered floor, feeling the leather texture brush beneath his palm. Then, he takes a deep shot, watching the ball suction perfectly into the hoop just before it echoes against the ground. He was the sole person occupying the gym after a late-night practice. Seokmin was with him about ten minutes ago, but he ended up packing his things and heading off to shower stalls, wishing Seungcheol a goodnight. Even though Seungcheol said he would be leaving shortly, he didn’t know why he was still here.
He picked the ball up and tossed it again, hearing the satisfying swish of the net.
The gym doors suddenly squeak, loud and metallic, to which Seungcheol takes out an earbud assuming that maybe Seokmin forgot something. However, the face that smiles at him doesn’t belong to Seokmin at all, and Seungcheol feels his heart soar. You’re holding the windbreaker that the boy let you borrow during the downpour last week, and he hears a relieved sigh.
“I figured I might catch you here.”
Seungcheol smiles and sets his earbud back in. It astonishes him that you can recall the days he has basketball practice, though Seungcheol supposes it makes great sense considering you used to attend all his warm-ups and games. He grows oddly fond seeing you from the court again.
“Just put in next to that black bag on the bench.”
“I never got to thank you for letting me use it,” you explain while returning the windbreaker to the rest of his belongings, “it was really pouring out, but I was definitely less wet than if I had nothing. I wasn’t too sure if you would still be here. Of course, I knew when I saw Seokmin.”
“It must’ve been weird for him to see you coming back here.” He replies. You would never come to the court unless Seungcheol was there.
“He said hi to me,” you admit, scratching your arm, “he looked kinda nervous though.”
Seungcheol can’t help but note that you seem a little saddened by the interaction. The break-up between you two was all but civilized and pretty. There was shouting, tears, bitter and cold words shanked through the thick air with infinitesimal regard for the other’s feelings. Seungcheol remembers you pushing a picture frame of you two together off the shelf, how the glass cracked, different shards scattering far across the floor. He remembers storming into his bedroom and throwing all your clothes into one heaping pile, demanding that you leave, swearing that he hopes to never see you again. Now, everything feels so pointless and stupid.
The falling out crumbled an entire web of ties between you. Seungcheol understands why Seokmin would be nervous to see you, but he hates to know how it’s upset you.
“Hey,” Seungcheol calls out, attempting to lift the depressive mood, “Wanna shoot?” He bounces the basketball.
You immediately tense. “Uh – no. I haven’t touched a basketball since we were dati—I mean, well – you know. I haven’t played at all.”
Seungcheol smiles, rolling his eyes. “Just come here.” He beckons. “I’ll remind you.”
“I-I don’t know, my friend is in the car. I shouldn’t keep her waiting.”
“It’ll take two minutes.” He reasons. “I promise.”
The boy is delighted to see you comply, even if you are hesitant and approach him with bleeding apprehensiveness. While he shows you how to hold the ball as well as the correct motion to make with your wrist, there’s a smile blooming from one corner of your mouth to the other. Sometimes the past feels exactly like it should: the past. At this moment, a warmth ignites between you two, a spark that feels passionate and ever-lasting. Once he gives a few examples, the ball is suddenly in your hands, and he watches brightly as you sink a basket.
Seungcheol collects the ball, smirking. “You wanna play?” He then asks, checking the ball straight into your chest.
“No,” you respond, sending it back harder, “you know I just said I have someone waiting.”
“It hasn’t been two minutes yet.”
“There’s probably thirty seconds left. We have no time.”
“Fine,” Seungcheol shakes his head, “be a loser.” He doesn’t wait for you, and flicks the ball through the hoop.
It hits the glossy wood, bounces a couple times, and proceeds to roll slowly across the ground. You look at Seungcheol, and Seungcheol looks at you. There’s a small moment of silence.
Until you’re both racing across the floor with arms extended, practically throwing yourselves toward the basketball. It just ghosts under your fingertips, and somehow you manage to secure it against your chest, though you’re unable to even rise from the floor as Seungcheol straddles your waist and attempts to whack the ball out of your grip. The chime of your laughter echoes loudly through the entire gymnasium. You’re too slippery and end up weaseling away, scrambling haphazardly to your feet and using your last breath to sail the ball toward the net.
Seungcheol is too late. He reaches for you, but the ball has already gone through.
As the boy wraps his arms around your waist and hugs your back against his firm, hard chest, you cry out triumphantly, pumping your fists in the air. To anyone who observed from the outside, you wouldn’t exactly paint the image of a broken relationship. You were laughing, celebrating, making harmless mockery pertaining to the other with stupid grins on your faces.
“You’re such a cheater.” Seungcheol says.
Wriggling to face him in the comfort of his grasp, you slide your arms around Seungcheol’s neck and scrunch your nose.
“How did I cheat? That was fair!”
Seungcheol grabs your hips tight, pulling you in close against his body until he can almost count the individual sparkles in your eyes and smell the sweetness of your hair.
“Uh? You said you weren’t gonna play.”
“I wasn’t!” You giggle. “Until you called me a l—,”
The metal doors squeak again. At the speed of light, you and Seungcheol detach from each other, the playful mood disintegrating as the girl who’d been waiting in the car comes looking for you. Seungcheol sees the light drain from your eyes. He watches your shoulders slump, and the deep lump you forcefully swallow upon being interrupted. Seungcheol is utterly disappointed too. His heart doesn’t quite beat the same when you bid him the tiniest, quietest goodbye before running over to your friend, apologizing to her for the unexpected wait. The doors rattle once more, and then the gym is completely empty. It stings worse than anything.
Seungcheol doesn’t understand why he can’t just have you back.
v.
It’s sometime after ten-thirty when Seungcheol finally leaves Hansol and Wonwoo’s house. It’s not a long walk back to his miniscule apartment complex crammed in the middle of town, and he loves to soaks in the calm beauty belonging to the clear, star-speckled sky. He only went over to smoke after a tiresome day at his job, but he ended up staying much longer after Wonwoo revealed his game console. They took turns playing Portal and Grand Theft Auto. It was fun, a perfect way to unwind, and now Seungcheol is ready to wash up and go to bed.
He’s wearing his earphones while walking through town, listening to old songs that remind him of you, a playlist actually, one he started making before you were even together. No matter what happens – Seungcheol is always thinking about you these days. He misses you in a way that aches deeply, like his heart has been split in two by a sharp and jagged stone. In fact, while standing at an intersection, waiting for the light to glow in a walking man symbol, Seungcheol almost mistakes someone sitting at the bus bench across the street for you.
A moment passes, and he squints through the meagre lighting. Wait—that is you.
Your gaze keeps flitting nervously from the lurid phone in your hand to the dimly lit area that surrounds you. Your knee is quickly bouncing, and Seungcheol can sense at a distance how nervous you’re feeling. He doesn’t know why you’re sitting alone in the dark, but he can’t just leave you there. Instead of walking his usual route back to the apartment complex, Seungcheol approaches you, calls out your name softly as to not make you afraid. At first you respond to him with a moonfaced expression, but then you recognize his face and your heart quiets.
“Everything okay?” Seungcheol asks, taking out his earphones.
You gulp thickly and reflect a jittery smile. “Um, kinda. My boss made me stay late for closing. I tried texting my friend to pick me up, but she’s not responding.” A frozen breeze rifles through the air and you shiver. “I-I just, I don’t want to walk home alone.”
Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate to extend his hand.
“C’mon, I’ll take you.”
A grateful smile warms your face. Standing up from the cold bench, you grab Seungcheol’s hand and interlock fingers. Your address is still fresh in his mind, to which he easily navigates the streets with you beside him. At one point, a loud dog starts barking from a few blocks over and you nearly jump out from your own skin, though Seungcheol just slides his arm around your waist, gently pulling you further into his solace. He feels you instantly relax against him. An indescribable light fills his chest. To be able to make you feel safe, like he used to, it’s aweing.
“This is it, right?” Seungcheol asks upon approaching the house porch. He knows it’s right, but he waits for you to confirm it.
“You’re right.” You tell him in a tiny voice.
His hand grazes the small of your back as you walk up the steps together, stopping before the door and its weathered, white paint. A bitterness stings against Seungcheol’s throat, a truly horrible bitterness. He doesn’t want to say goodbye – he wants to stay. He wants to take you inside and wait on your bed as you get ready for the night. He wants to experience that beautiful fluttering in his stomach when you crawl into his arms and shut off the light, his hand stroking your spine as you fall asleep, your soft, slow breaths fanning against his neck.
Why does it have to hurt like this? Seungcheol hates that he’s so in love with you, but he’d never want it any other way. Even if he has to endure this pain, it’s better than never getting to know you, touch you or love you. He swallows the hot salt and gets ready to bid his goodbye.
“Sleep well, okay? Maybe I’ll see you agai—,”
Suddenly, you’re hugging Seungcheol. Your arms wrap securely around his waist and you bury your face in his neck. He takes a slight step backward, caught off guard by the blitz of affection. He hears you suck in a trembling breath, and then he feels wet, cold droplets slide against his skin. Instantly, he holds you, one hand dearly cradling the back of your head while the other passes up and down your back. You shake in his arms and he doesn’t know why. Seungcheol just hugs you tighter. If he has to, he’ll hold you for the entire night.
“S-Seungcheol,” you release his name in a sob, lifting your head from his neck. His heart beats wildly as he looks directly into your teary eyes. “I’m s-sorry.” You cry to him. “I-I’m so sorry…”
“What?” He cups your face, collecting a few thick tears with his thumb. “For what, honey?”
“E-Everything,” you hiccup, grabbing his waist tighter, “for the st-stupid fights, the p-picture, all those h-horrible things I yelled at you – I hate my-myself because of it.”
Seungcheol shakes his head and brings your face in closer to his, brown eyes glistering. “I don’t care about that. I don’t. I said horrible things too, sweetheart. I yelled at you, I told you to leave, I made you so upset, and I know exactly how you feel.” He rubs his thumb tenderly below your damp eye, and you ease into his touch. “But that was a different time. No matter what, I’m still in love with you. What happened months ago doesn’t change that. I promise.”
You sniffle back the new pearls that nearly stain your face.
“Really? Y-You still love me?”
Seungcheol leans in. He presses his forehead against yours, his fingers delicately framing your wet, warm cheek. And then he’s kissing you softly, pouring every ounce of his heart into the contact. Your hand curls around the back of his neck. You respond passionately, keeping him as near as possible, nipping gently at his bottom lip while stealing each other’s breath. Seungcheol peers directly into your gaze. It’s glassy from the tears, but also sincere and welcoming.
“I never stopped.” He says earnestly.
He feels your fingertips thread through the black silk of his hair. You kiss him again, and his grip finds the familiarity of your hips, leading you backward until you press against the door.
“I love you too.” You admit to him between every peck.
In the rising heat, you whisper against the boy’s pretty mouth, “I want you back,” to which the words engender Seungcheol’s heart to positively melt. Seungcheol knows you already have him. It doesn’t take long before you’re unlocking the door with the key beneath an ancient flowerpot. You hop into his arms, and Seungcheol catches you like it’s nothing, sitting you on top of the corridor dresser while his kisses wander further down your neck. Every whimper he hears turns him fonder. You admit again that you love him and he smiles against your skin.
Seungcheol will always need you. He hopes he always has you.
#svt scenarios#svt fanfic#seungcheol scenarios#seventeen scenarios#seventeen angst#seungcheol angst#seventeen fanfic#seventeen imagines#svt smut#s.coups scenarios#TIME TO CRY!
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Good Business: Part 12
Fandom: Marvel (Mob AU)
Pairing: Chubby!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Bucky Barnes is a ruthless mobster. He’s also referred to as Big Buck due to his towering strong frame as well as his round stomach. You’re the owner of a small diner, a place that Big Buck decides to visit. Based off this drabble.
“So Y/N, Jamie says you own a diner?” Winnie asks as she takes a sip of wine.
You nod with excitement, eyes lighting up like the candles that decorated the table, “Yes! That place is my pride and-”
“Sorry, I’m late!” Steve came rushing in, beads of sweat on his forehead, “Had to finish up some...business.”
“Yeah, kissing Miss Sharon!” Matty exclaimed and Steve blushed hard, while you threw your head back in laughter.
“High five, Matty!” you lean across Bucky and held up your hand for Matty to slap his hand against yours.
Bucky chuckled and watched as his best friend and adoptive brother kissed his mother’s cheek, sitting next to Charles.
“Sorry again, um. Hi, Y/N, I interrupted you?” he asked sheepishly, laying the fabric napkin across his lap.
You shrugged, “It’s no big deal, Steve. I was just telling Winnie about the diner.”
Steve brightened up, “Oh, ma, you gotta try her pies! They’re amazing! Almost as good as yours!”
Intrigued appeared on the Barnes matriarch’s face, “Almost, eh? Guess we should have a bake off, huh, Y/N?”
“I’d be honored, Winnie. But if it’s a contest, I’m sure these guys will be a bit biased since they love you so much.”
Winnie picked up her wine glass again, taking a small sip, “Not too sure about that, Y/N. Jamie here might love you more than me at this point.”
At this moment, Bucky was drinking from his water glass and choked when his mother spoke, “I-Shit-”
“Language,” Steve said sternly, glancing at his two nephews.
“Sorry, uh, heh,” Bucky cleared his throat, “Despite how much I...care for Y/N, no one can compare to the love between a mother and her child.”
George chuckled and rose his glass of whiskey, “Good answer, Buck. But, uh, Y/N, we heard that you really gave Bucky a hard time when you first met.”
“Uh, well,” you looked at Bucky with a bit of concern. How do you talk about your encounter when his family didn’t know about his organization?
“Bucky and a few of his friends were being a bit loud and obnoxious and people were starting to get annoyed, but they didn’t want to say anything since he’s a well-known businessman. But I didn’t care, so I told him and his buddies that if they continue to behave like that, they’re outta there!” You look at Bucky and his gave you a nod of approval. A nice save.
George hummed, “Guess we Barnes men got a thing for strong feisty women, eh?”
Bucky snorted and reached over, resting his hand on your thigh, “Seems so.”
________________
After dinner, dessert was served as well as more drinks. You had a few too many glasses of wine and got a lot louder and giggly, which amused Bucky since he’s never seen you like this. When it came time to go, you were starting to get a bit sleepy. You drunkenly kissed each of Bucky’s family on the head and wished them a good night.
Bucky, with Steve’s help, practically carried you into his car and buckled you up. As soon as the door closed, you leaned your head against the window, asleep, mouth open, slightly snoring.
Both Bucky and Steve chuckled at the sight of you. Bucky proceeded to sigh and lean against his car, “I think that was successful.”
The blonde nodded, “I agree. Looks like they all are smitten with her.”
“It’s hard not be smitten when it comes to her,” he looks at you through the window with such softness in his eyes, “I really love her, Steve.”
Steve lightly punched his best friend and brother, “You better, with the way you guys are going. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if you proposed in a few months.”
Bucky proceeded to shake his head, a look of worry and...insecurity in his eyes, “I don’t know if that’ll ever happen. I love her, but-but I don’t want her to get involved with the life we lead, Steve.”
Steve snorted, “Way too late for that, Bucky. I have never seen anyone make you this happy and smitten and in love before. And if Y/N didn’t want to get involved with you, she’d have rejected you and your friendship from the very beginning. What you two have? It’s special. You can’t back out now.”
_____________
It’s bright. It’s way too fucking bright. Was the first thing you thought about when you stirred from your sleep.
You heard the door of you bedroom creak open and you slowly turn your head. Your sight a bit blurry from sleep, but after rubbing away the crust and sleep, your vision clears.
Bucky’s there standing in your doorway in an undershirt and underwear, holding a tray of food. The look of concentration on his face dissipated when he realized you were awake.
“Mornin’, sweet cheeks!” he exclaimed a bit too loud which made you wince, “Oh, sorry. Anyway, I got you some breakfast and painkillers. So which would you like first?”
“Painkillers. Now,” you groaned, hand reaching out for them.
Bucky placed two pills into your palm. After you tossed them in your mouth, he handed you the glass of orange juice and you downed half of it. You then placed the glass on your bedside table and sat up properly, allowing Bucky to place the tray of breakfast on your lap.
“Thanks for this. You didn’t have to cook for me.”
Bucky snorted, sitting at the edge of your bed, “Oh I didn’t cook this. I made Steve get this stuff for me from your diner. Figured any food from your place was safe so-”
“You thought right!” you pointed, biting into a piece of fruit, with a smile. After you swallowed, you nodded towards him, “You stayed over?”, eyeing his undershirt that hugged his round belly and his boxer briefs that clung to his thick thighs.
He shrugged, “I didn’t know if you’d wake up in the middle of the night and hurt yourself or what. Just wanted to make sure you were safe is all, sweet cheeks.” he then rubbed the back of his neck, wincing, “Also, I’m getting you a new couch. Your current one is shit!”
You playfully shoved him, “Hey! It’s not shit! It’s...well used.”
“Aka shit. Anyway, you can’t fight me on this.” he grabbed a piece of your bacon, and munching on it. He then leaned in and pecked your lips, “I’m gonna go do the dishes now. You finish up eating, ‘kay? Also, I called Sharon. You’re not going into work today.”
“Buckyyyy!” you whined, “You can’t just call out for me like that!”
He shrugged, “Sharon understood. She said you need to take more time off anyway. So, there you have it.” with that, he sauntered out, your eyes focusing on how good his ass looks in that underwear.
Good Business Taglist (CLOSED): @cametobuyplums @sergeantrosabellaswan @asadmarveltrashbag @youcanhaveyourspacecowboy @reniescarlett @j-the-smol-otter @buckysknifecollection @lowkeysebby @rinthehufflepuff @134340-cm @snoot-snoot-toot @seabassali1328 @bluebellhairpin @emzy106 @viarogers @feelmyroarrrr @vxidnik @jasura @jade-cheshire3303 @yknott81 @baliebay19 @jessieray98 @fandommemporiumm @iluvsumbucky @bucksandroses @lecoindenox @ylva-stark @booktease21 @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @cheyenne222222 @momobaby227
#chubby!bucky#Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#marvel#au#marvel au#mob au#mob boss au#mobster au#diner au
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If you're still taking prompts, then... verklempt with a touch of marcid, as a found family comfort fic for poor Beau after that last episode (she needs it).
verklempt - completely and utterly overcome with emotion // marcid - incredibly exhausted
//
Caleb
//
The woman who walks out of that house is not his Beauregard. If not for his familiarity with transmutation, he might suspect that someone else had been put in her place; the imposter has copied her flawlessly—wears her face, her skin—but she does not know how to be their Beauregard.
Their Beauregard has eyes like needles, sharp and shining, that pin people open to examine their insides, cobalt eyes. These blank eyes, these clouded-over eyes, are wrong.
Their Beauregard moves like a cat. Not like Frumpkin, whose form sometimes shifts and moves to fit the world—he is real and unreal and his smoking steps reflect it. Beauregard moves like one of the great striped cats, the kings of the southern forests; Caleb had seen one, once, in his days at the Academy and it is the only way he knows how to conceptualise of Beauregard’s distinctive physicality. She is forceful and graceful all at once; she slinks and steps and climbs with power in her movements. There is a confidence to her that is all physical—all of her power, all of her presence, contained. Concrete. The imposter cannot begin to understand this. Her hands are wrong. They hang heavy at her sides like an inept simulacrum, like gloves filled with some unsuitable material— with ice, with lead. They lurch in pendulum swings from the shoulders, out of time. She does not stride or strut. She stumbles over a hunk of raised rock. When she braces against Caleb, who steps quickly to her side, her fingers claw at the proffered arm so she doesn’t meet mud.
Her skin is cold and wet from the misting downpour.
Enough, Caleb thinks. Tugs her to stop, halt.
She doesn’t argue with him and it’s all wrong, wrong, wrong.
Blue eyes drift to his face, unseeing, glazed. He sees the faintest stir behind them of recognition and she looks down to their joined hands.
‘Your hands are cold,’ he says softly.
There is no hiding that they have stopped from the watchful others, but he doesn’t have to let them hear. Beau is a private person and they have learned more of her history in the last two days, last hour, than ever; he will not let anyone take more from her, not even the knowledge that her hands are cold.
‘No,’ she denies. ‘’m all—hot.’ Rubs her other hand over the back of her neck as she has been doing all day. The skin is red, raw with scratching, but from what he can see it is hot from friction alone.
He makes a sound of disagreement. Pulls his gloves from the pocket of his coat and works the first onto the hand he still holds. It is hard because she is not being helpful, like pulling a glove onto a statue, but finally it is more or less on and he rubs the hand between both of his own in that rough way that calls heat back into extremities.
She shivers. Blinks, surprised by the way another shiver shakes through her.
He coaxes her second hand into the other glove. ‘There. Wunderbar.’
Beau curls her fingers into fists, slightly cushioned by the gloves that are only a little threadbare. ‘You don’t need ‘em?’ she asks, the thought making her reach off and fiddle with the cuffs.
Caleb lays his hands over hers. Squeezes. ‘Nein, it is fine, I can summon flames. Keep them.’
He cannot help but wonder—as she struggles past the exhaustion to think, to figure if he needs them more, eyes narrowing into an approximation of shrewd, prying—how many things Beau has been given. A slap across the face, is the first he knows of. A jade necklace with no apparent defences, supposedly to keep her safe. Anything else? Fire boils in his belly, threatens to burn through his veins, his entire self—threatens to send the rain that hits him steaming, hissing away from his too-warm skin—as her tear-stained cheeks crinkle into a very small smile.
‘Thanks, Caleb.’
He lets his hand settle on her shoulder when they set out again, fond, letting her feel the weight of his presence at her side.
//
Nott
//
She waits until they’ve purchased beds for the night in the inn, waits until Beau and Jester have gone upstairs to their room, before she follows. Waits until Beau has excused herself, stepped into the washroom, before letting herself in and setting the little jade rabbit on Beau’s bedside.
‘You steal that?’
Nott screams and spins, crossbow drawn. Beau doesn’t even flinch; her eyes are focused on the statuette, over Nott’s shoulder.
‘Beau! Steal? Little old me?’ she hedges awkwardly until she realises she isn’t seeing upset on Beau’s face, or annoyance. Strange, given that is Beau’s go-to expression, but... ‘Ah—yes. I didn’t like the way he spoke to you, so,’ Nott flutters her fingers in a There you go sort of motion. Her eyes narrow, gleaming with interest at the way Beau’s expression shifts.
‘He’s—complicated,’ she says finally.
Nott isn’t sure if what she has, what this goblin body has, are hackles, but if they were they’d be raised by Beau’s tone: quiet, borderline defeated. Worse—understanding.
‘He’s an asshole.’
Beau smiles crookedly. ‘So am I. So was I.’
‘You were a kid,’ Nott snarls. Holds her hands up in surrender when Beau’s eyes snap sideways, staring at her finally instead of that damn statuette. ‘Sorry, sorry, not my place, sorry.’
‘No. It’s not.’
‘Right. Well.’ Nott whistles faintly through her crooked teeth.
‘I nearly broke that,’ Beau tells her, eyes sliding back to the statue. ‘When I was - I dunno. Ten? Ten, I think. I was running in the house and slipped. Slammed into the table,’ she says, and doesn’t seem to notice the way her hand lifts to rub at the long-healed scar above her eyebrow. ‘It fell off. Hit the carpet. There’s - ah - a little chip missing on the back,’ she tells Nott, who doesn’t bother checking. The corner of Beau’s lips twitch up into an expression Nott wouldn’t in a hundred years call a smile. ‘He picked that up first.’
‘Beau...’ The girl sighs. Nott puts her crossbow away. She hadn’t realised it was still out, the weight so comforting in her hands. Now they’re empty, they itch with the need to take something, work with something. She threads her long, bad fingers together. ‘Thank you for coming here. I know you did it for me and—thank you.’
Beau jerks her head in a nod. Nott has nothing more to say, knows it isn’t the right time to mention how much she thinks Beau’s dad is a dickhead, knows very little of what she says will be taken seriously by Beau. So instead, she says to her friend,
‘It sounded cool. Your plan for the wine. I’m sorry he didn’t listen to you.’ Nott eases forward, toward Beau standing interposed between the bed and the door. She stops beside her, pats the girl fondly on the hip. Leaves her hand there as she looks up into Beau’s suddenly blank face. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re with us.’
‘Okay,’ Beau rasps, not meeting her eyes.
Nott pats her side again. ‘Sleep well, Beau. You need your rest if we’re off to fuck up a hag in the morning.’
//
Fjord and Yasha
//
‘At least we know now,’ he says low to Yasha as they follow Beau out from the inn. ‘If we ever want her to be less sneaky, just...’
‘Confront her with her past?’
‘Yeah.’ Fjord grimaces. ‘Not really funny, huh?’
Yasha eyes the slow figure ahead of them, her meandering path. She would think Beau were drunk, if she hadn’t been watching her carefully since they left that place. A half cup of wine would have no effect like this on the well-practised monk.
‘No.’
The pair follow Beau through the mud-slopped streets. For a short while, she stands at the base of the switch-back roads up to the Rainbow Vineyards and Yasha is prepared to return to the inn and fetch everyone, in case Beau has it in her mind to revisit the house—what they would do, she isn’t sure. Stop her? Perhaps. Help her? Definitely. But Beau doesn’t head up; she turns away and wanders back up the path. Fjord and Yasha step aside to get out of her way and she walks right past them, unseeing.
‘Still raining,’ Fjord says to Yasha.
Her chest tightens around mixed pain and love. For Beau, who is hurting. And for Fjord, who will muster a bad lie to protect his best friend.
‘Ah. Yes,’ she agrees, lying too. ‘I think I feel it.’ She holds her hand out, palm up to the sky. Wipes imaginary droplets off against her cloak.
They follow Beau to the other end of the town, to the southern gates. She walks out of them, staggers to a stop by a low cliff where she sits. Throws her legs over the edge and grasps at small rocks, tosses them down the embankment into the burning pools there.
Fjord sits to one side of her.
Yasha sits on the other.
Neither of them speak, until eventually Beau swears. Scrubs at her cheeks.
‘Fuck—when—hey guys,’ she says, voice thick. She reworks it into something sharper. ‘Are you following me?’
Yasha looks to Fjord over her head, nervous. Perhaps she shouldn’t be here, she has caused enough hurt,
‘A-yup,’ Fjord tells Beau, a hint of his old swaggering accent in the word.
‘How long?’
‘Good long while.’
Beau stares at him, mouth working but no sound coming out. She jerks her head to Yasha, who smiles. Jerks her head to the pools, which burble and burn away.
‘Didn’t notice.’
‘No, we know.’ Fjord leans heavy against her shoulder. ‘It’s alright.’
‘Should’ve noticed.’
‘You don’t have to be —‘ Yasha hesitates, suddenly nervous under the way Beau looks at her. Like a piece of flint waiting to spark. Like a woman who is hurting. ‘We wanted to...make sure you are safe. We didn’t...wish to intrude.’
‘Did you at least hide?’
‘Nope.’ Fjord pops the sound of the p with relish. ‘You walked right past us.’ Holds a hand up to his face, exaggerating—though not by much—how close they had been and Beau had not seen them.
‘Fuck.’
The word punches out of her along with e last of her energy. Yasha catches her as she sags, leans her fully against Fjord who wraps an arm around her shoulders.
‘He’s a cute fuckin’ kid, huh?’ she mumbles.
‘Sure is. Looks like you.’
‘I was a little monster.’ Beau knocks her head on his shoulder. Drops a hand to the side, fingers hooking onto Yasha’s bracer.
‘Naw,’ Fjord says, so so softly. ‘I reckon you were just fine.’
They sit with her as her facade breaks again, no energy to maintain it, and she cries. There’s little left in her to cry out so when she’s empty of tears, she almost crumples in on herself and bit by bit she slips from this state into unconsciousness.
‘Yasha? Little help?’ Fjord asks, holding Beau awkwardly back from the edge of the low cliff.
Yasha stands. Scoops the smaller woman into her arms. Adjusts her with Fjord’s help so her head leans peacefully on Yasha’s shoulder, Fjord’s cloak a cushion. They head back to the inn, Beau lulled by the rolling step, cradled safely in her friend’s arms.
The inn is dark, the stairways barely lit by lantern light. Yasha carries her up the stairs—laughs softly at Fjord’s low whistle.
‘You’re not tired at all? You carried her all the way across town—she’s small but she’s not exactly light!’
‘She’s fine,’ Yasha shrugs. Her muscles are warm from exertion but it isn’t something that strains or hurts. ‘Would you—the door?’
‘Huh? Oh, sure, yes.’
He cracks the bedroom door. They creep in, not wanting to wake Jester. Jester, who sleeps turned toward Beau’s bed, who looks as though she had drifted off in the middle of staring at the empty sheets.
Yasha holds Beau as Fjord pulls down the sheets; lowers her onto the mattress and helps Fjord work at the laces of muddied boots. Easing them off, Fjord takes them, holds them in his hand. Watches Yasha’s hands carefully—not from any suspicion but from a deep, worried care—as she draws the blanket up to around Beau’s shoulders.
‘Sleep well, Beau,’ Fjord says with all the reverence of a prayer.
Yasha wonders if he is aware of the faint green glow around his free hand as he rests it on Beau’s shoulder. The frown that grips her brows tight loosens a fraction. Eases.
//
Caduceus
//
Caduceus trusts Fjord and Yasha to track her down in the night.
His job is not like theirs. Their duty is to protect her, to keep her from going too far, to bring her home. His is — he’s reluctant to say harder, he has no doubt there was some careful work to bringing her home, but it is one thing to catch the wild horse and another to tame it. So he’s heard. He’s never tamed a horse himself, nor does the analogy sit well with regards to Beauregard. Except, that is, a wild horse is skittish to the reaching hand and he cannot stop thinking about a younger Beauregard, already young, who has been struck by her father. Caduceus doesn’t consider himself an educated man but there are some things he knows to the core of himself, and this is one of those things: Beauregard has been starved of those necessary things, like the withered and pitiful garden within the estate. If she is not healthy, if she does not bloom brightly and prettily as expected, it is not the plants fault but the gardeners.
That is to say, he thinks, and rolls a mouthful of floral tea over his tongue, she deserves more. Better.
Which brings him to his duty, and his eyes lift from the handsome grain work in this simple tables to the stairs where a barefooted girl, hair half-fallen from its topknot, hurries down.
‘Morning, Beau.’
She looks marginally better. Reflexes far improved from the night before. He had been tempted to check for signs of undeath, with her moving like the animated dead, skin as cold.
‘Cad,’ she grunts.
The skin beneath her eyes is puffy and dark, from crying and from a lack of sleep. He had heard Fjord and Yasha return late last night, perhaps even early into morning, so she can’t have slept for more than—three? Four hours at most.
‘You haven’t slept enough.’
She grunts. ‘Seen my boots?’
‘Yes.’ He drinks from his cup. Flares his nostrils to take in the scent as the movement stirs, hits the notes of the drop of honey he had added. After last night, he needs the boost, the sweetness.
‘Where?’
He just smiles, no intent whatsoever to say. ‘Tea?’ He has rarely seen anyone who needs a cup more than she does now; she desperately needs it, needs a moment to relax from holding herself so tense, gingerly, like she has been turned inside out and back again and she’s scared it’ll happen again.
Beau doesn’t seem to agree. Squints are him, a not unfamiliar squint, the one she gets when she’s reading books in unfamiliar script. Like she is figuring him out. Lips pressed flat, not quite a scowl.
Caduceus thinks about telling her that he isn’t a book, can’t be read like one, when she nods, frown clearing.
‘Fjord’s got ‘em. Great. Thanks.’
‘What?’
Beau salutes. Backs up the stairs.
‘How did you—‘ he begins to ask, brows crawling higher in his forehead like fat, confused pink caterpillars, but she has already disappeared, taking the steps two at a time.
He listens as the door to the room he was sharing with Fjord creaks open. A moment, and then it creaks closed again. The loose floorboard at the top of the steps squeals and Beau returns, boots in hand, and takes a seat at the table with him turned in the seat so she can pull the boots on. Wipes a rough palm over the sole of her foot, brushing off dust and dirt.
‘He polished them,’ she grunts. Shakes her head. ‘Sap.’
‘He cares for you.’
There—a small shift, like a contraption winched tight, Beau’s shoulders creaking closer together, tighter, tense.
‘He just hates mess. Seen him at the Xhorhaus? Washes his room out. Scrubs the kitchen top to bottom.’
‘Mm.’
‘You must like that.’
‘He reorganises the cupboards,’ Cad tells her, watches as the comment surprises a smile out of her.
‘Caduceus,’ she says, teases, ‘is that a complaint?’
‘Everyone has flaws. Neatness isn’t too bad of one.’
Boots on, obviously feeling a little more put together, more herself, Beau leans back in her chair with an arm slung over the back of it. Her smile is crooked, a half-summoned thing. ‘Yeah, he’s alright,’ she allows.
‘He’s marvellous.’ There—an easy shift into what he needs to talk to her about. ‘As are you.’
She rolls her eyes hard.
‘We’re all looking after you in our own ways.’
‘Found a way to help me, have you? Am I easy like the rest of them?’
‘No. I don’t think you have ever been easy.’ He watches her flinch truly this time and hums, realises his misstep. ‘That—was not meant to be an insult.’
‘’s fine, dude. Whatever. You’re not wrong.’
Caduceus’s duty is care; his duty is helping people to move on, to grieve and leave their grief, to transfer it into something that can be borne more easily. It was easier when he had no interest in the grief himself, but he loves this woman and somehow it has made him clumsy.
‘There are great works that are done,’ Caduceus says to her. ‘Art and other acts of creation, great gardens. They aren’t easy.’ Beau frowns. ‘But they are marvellous.’
Beau clicks her tongue, shakes her head. She isn’t ready to talk, or hear more of the regard he has for her, that they all have for her, so he stops.
‘Tea?’
Beau sighs. ‘Sure. Why not.’
He smiles as warmly as he can manage. ‘I have two options.’ He pulls them from his pack, smells them to make sure. Sets them before her. ‘This one,’ he shows her, puts it to one side, ‘will clear your mind. Help wake you up. And this,’ he sets it to the other side and if it is much closer to her, well, it isn’t as though he is trying to be subtle, ‘will help you go back to sleep.’
‘I don’t think—I’m not going back to sleep, dude.’
She doesn’t push the offering away. Stares down at it with tired, tired eyes.
He waits. Won’t make this decision for her. Figures, from what he can gather, she’s had enough of people trying to make decisions for a whole lifetime.
‘Would—will you make me a cup of this?’ she asks, quietly, looking a little shameful as she points to the clear-head tea. ‘I’m sorry—I know you think I should—but I can’t. Not right now.’
He hums. ‘Perhaps tonight. You’ll sleep very well after it,’ he offers. Is rewarded with a look of relief, of thanks.
‘Sounds good. Yeah.’ Then, after a moment, ‘’preciate it, man.’
He keeps to that promise. Drinks a pot of tea with her that morning that, he thinks, has a lot to do with the good decisions they make that morning. Tea helps with that. Sitting quietly with a friend helps with that. And that evening, after a very very long day, he finds her before she can offer to take first watch and sits her at the end of his bedroll and sets up his tea station right there. Pours enough of the leaves into the water to make a single cup. He takes care to prepare it the way he always does, when he has the time—it isn’t prayer, isn’t a ritual of the kind he makes to worship the Mother, but a ritual of another kind, as old and as profound in some ways. The ritual of care, of providing, of effort. The ritual of making something especially for the one person who will appreciate it, need it the most. Not the exclusion of others, but attention to one person alone.
‘Here,’ he says, words buzzing like beetles in his chest. It always feels a little foreign, a little strange, to speak. He hadn’t spoken for a long, long time before his friends had collected him from the Grove and sometimes the words are hard. The gestures—the making, the healing—are harder for people to misconstrue. He picks up the cup by the brim, sets it in her cupped palms.
Sits beside her as she sips.
‘Long day.’ Beau grimaces. The tea is bitter, but that isn’t why she grimaces. ‘Don’t worry,’ he assures. ‘Jester will forgive you.’
‘She wants me to—slow down. Relax. I can’t relax, Cad, even on a good fucking day.’
‘Hmm.’
Beau snorts. ‘Helpful.’
She drinks a little more.
The air is clean and clear within the dome, pleasant after the hours of walking in this strange place that smells so heavily of metals and gases. Caleb tells them all that it is minerals and sulphur, the waters like pools of acid from the chemicals. To Caduceus, it is as if the earth itself here is dying and decomposing, petrifying even as she bloats. It’s strange and as fascinating as it is upsetting, and from moment to moment Caduceus shifts on whether this is natural or not.
Beau sits there on his bedroll and there she stays, cup beginning to tip out of numb fingers, head lolling.
‘Oop,’ Caduceus says, reaches over to catch Beau at the small of her back, spread his hand wide there as she sags and drops into sleep like a fish tossed onto land—that is, surprising to the fish, who struggles briefly, eyes wide, before landing with the dull sound of flesh on stone. ‘Whoops.’
‘Gods, Cad, what the hell—did you brain her?’ Fjord asks, alerting Caleb too, who looks up from his place in the centre of the dome where he has chosen to read.
‘No, no, she’ll be just fine. Sleep through the night, hopefully.’
Fjord grunts. Looks fondly at Beau. Then laughs. ‘She’s already snoring. Dibs on the other side of the dome.’
Caleb looks amused, obediently shifts his things from where Fjord points. He looks tired too, Caduceus notes and briefly regrets that he had only made the one cup. And that he had done so in front of Caleb. He’ll never get the wizard to drink this brew now.
//
Jester
//
It is a long day punctuated by the strange, sudden greys that colour the flora here—flowers and vines and trees shrivelled and withered and turned to living stone, the thrum of life present but dulled to the point where Caduceus is hard put to feel it. Jester leaves him to tend to the plants and figure them out. She doesn’t know an awful lot about plants and her time is better spent, she figures, at Beau’s side.
They’re miles from the Lionett estate and everyone within it but still Beau walks like she’s expecting an attack at any moment, snaps at useless discussion, and walks too fast for any of them to keep up until Jester snags her. Holds her hand hard enough that the girl can’t shrug her off. It makes Beau more restless, Jester can see that, the way she’s straining to get ahead, to get to whatever awaits them, to figure this out and find answers finally, and Jester understands, really, she does!
‘It’s just that it’s dangerous if we can’t keep up with you, Beau, and what if you get into some kind of trouble and we’re too far to hear you, or don’t pick the same path, or just can’t get there in time?’
‘I can look after myself, Jes,’
‘Obviously, obviously,’ Jester agrees hurriedly. ‘You’re really strong and smart, Beau, we know that, but you don’t have to look out for yourself when you have all of us, and—‘ Jester hesitates, not sure Beau can take hearing about how very, very tired she looks.
‘I am feeling very tired, myself,’ Caleb says, not to Beau because the others are all pretending not to see the way Jester has more or less grappled Beau into standing still for just a second so she can talk her into making camp and staying with them. Jester shoots him a glare; she knows he can lie more convincingly than that, and they are supposed to be convincing Beau. But he must know some way of talking to her to get her attention because Jester feels the lightning thrum of tension running through Beau’s cord-tight muscles fade the smallest bit. Feels shoulders drop an inch. Hears her reluctant scoff, almost a laugh.
‘Fine. Fine.’ Beau brings her hand up finally to return the hug—grapple—and pat Jester’s back. ‘You can let me go now, I’m not gonna bolt,’ she tells Jester, who wishes very much she could see Beau’s face and what that amount of fondness would look like. Hearing it is enough—sweet like caramel, warm and featherlight like smoke around her.
Jester pulls back slowly. Affects a suspicious squint and doesn’t let go. Not just yet. ‘Promise?’ she teases.
It’s doubly sweet to see how reluctantly the smile comes, how Beau has to rearrange her whole face to accommodate it.
‘Promise.’
Jester squeezes her. Releases her, hugging hands gliding down to Beau’s, squeezing those too. She leaves a trail of healing behind her, because Beau’s dad might have said run from the things in the woods but Beau had decided not to.
Beau hooks her pinkie around Jester’s. Holds it for a moment, says again—‘Promise’—before she begins to pace the campsite, bothering Fjord and distracting Caleb who just wants to set up the dome. He sends raven-Frumpkin to busy Beau, leads her on a chase around the clearing and up to the branches of a nearly spruce—the low branches, when Caleb sees the way Jester glares at him.
‘Hey Caleb. Caleb.’
‘Ja, Beaure—Beau.’
‘Ha! Beau-Beau,’ Nott repeats. ‘Cute.’
‘Call me that again and I’ll happily help with the first part of your resurrection,’ Beau promises. Nott hisses in through her teeth; after a moment, Beau clears her throat. ‘Sorry.’
‘No, no, say how you really feel.’
‘I said I’m sorry!’
‘Alright, I think everyone could do with a minute apart. Beau—‘ Cad says, bends over her, hand on her shoulder. ‘You promised I could make you tea.’
Jester can see the way she wants to snap at him too, send him away. Sees the moment Beau gives in and lets Cad lead her to his bedroll on the edge of the dome, talk quietly with him as he brews a bitter smelling tea that makes Jester’s nose itch when she passes by later. She misses the exact moment when Beau passes out but turns when she hears her crumple, cries out when she sees Beau sprawled there and hurries back into the dome.
‘Caduceus!’
‘She’s fine,’ he tells her. Fjord nods like he’s just asked the exact same thing. ‘She’s fine, just sleeping.’
‘You knocked her out?’
A hint of nerves crawls over Caduceus’s face. ‘I—helped her sleep.’
‘Ooh, she’s going to be so mad when she wakes up,’ Jester whispers, not sure if she should be mad on Beau’s behalf or relieved.
‘Ah.’ Caduceus scratches at his hair, the point where one lock of hair is turning white. ‘Well.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.’
‘Aw, I really appreciate that. Thank you, Jester.’
Jester pats his arm. Moves Caleb’s things—who clicks his tongue and sighs—so she can lay out hers next to Cad’s bed, taken over by the fully snoring Beau.
Curled up beside her, Jester smells the faint scent of Cad’s sleeping mat—sweat and earth and growing things like sweet grass, and the bitter tang of crushed beetles. And below it, shuffling closer, she smells what she knows now is the smell of Kamordah, though she knew it first as Beau—the tang of metal and the bite of something ever so faintly sour, even as it balances against the flowery smell of jasmine. She wonders as she drifts off whether it is something that sunk into Beau and refused to shift, or if the other girl just happened to gravitate toward soaps that smelled similar. She’ll have to ask.
//
Beau wakes later, when the fire has burned down to embers and the last watch—Yasha and Nott—have slunk off to patrol just beyond the treeline. Jester wakes to the sensation of gentle, careful fingers on her tail, unwrapping it from where it is snuggly curled around Beau’s ankle. Beau’s pant leg had lifted an inch or two, bunching higher around her calf, and Jester’s tail had taken advantage, seeking out the warmth of the human’s skin and double wrapping there where the cloth has moved to reveal skin.
‘Jes, geez,’ Beau mutters to herself, struggling to get free. ‘Help a girl out,’ she hisses though not loud enough to wake Jester, if she had not been already well on her way to waking. With a sigh, and a grumble, Beau tickles Jester’s tail with blunt nails, enough to make the muscles twitch and jump and slacken. Quicker than anything else, Beau slips her foot free with a quiet sound of victory.
She staggers to her feet, hand going to her head, smacks dry lips. ‘God, Caduceus, what was in that fucking tea,’ she mutters, picking her way over curled sleeping forms.
Jester eases up onto her elbows; most of her believes Beau isn’t silly enough to make a break for it—she has left everything, including her goggles. A small part of Jester that has zero sense and only concerns itself with keeping her friend right at her side where she can see her and soothe her and protect her worries. Pushes her to sit upright.
Across the dome, Jester sees Caleb rouse as Beau crosses the threshold of the hut.
‘Hmm,’ he says.
‘I think she’s going to pee,’ Jester whispers. Brings his eyes suddenly to Jester, searching in the dark. He settles on what he thinks is Jester—pretty close for being in near complete dark, the canopy thick overhead—and nods slowly.
‘I can’t leave,’ he tells her. ‘The hut will drop.’
Jester stands. Pats his shoulder as she passes to follow Beau out. She waits just beyond the boundary of the hut, seeing how Beau has only gone a short way from them, and waves a little when Beau returns, picking her careful path across the stone-and-grass clearing.
Beau’s steps falter and then pick up. When she gets closer, Jester can see a crooked, easy smile on her face and silently thanks Caduceus for knocking Beau out.
‘I’m fine,’ Beau insists when she’s close enough to be heard. ‘You—everyone doesn’t have to worry about me.’
Jester tilts her head up to return the smile, twice as sweet. ‘I’d like to see you try and stop us.’
Beau snorts.
‘Sleeping okay?’
‘Yeah. Whatever Cad gave me was a helluva knock out.’
‘Oh, you knew?’
‘Sort of. He told me it’d help,’ Beau explains, and seems mindlessly to accept the hand Jester holds out for her as they make their way back inside. ‘I didn’t think he meant it’d knock me on my ass in two seconds flat but,’ she shrugs.
‘And everything...else?’ Jester winces, hearing the obvious sidestep in the question. Beau’s eyes cut sideways to her; somehow, they still hold nothing in them but sleepy fondness.
‘You mean with my dad.’
‘Yeah.’
‘It’s—‘ Beau shrugs. Tilts her head hard to the side in an effort to crack her neck, release a little of the tension that has built up so much in her shoulders, spine.
‘Here, let me,’ Jester offers. Pats Beau down onto the bedroll once more and sits behind her, knees pressing into the soft of Beau’s hips. It’s nice with how incredibly cut Beau is that she still has that padding on her hips, the soft layer. Jester knows it’s to protect those vital organs but she also knows that things can be more than one thing at a time, so the softness can be protective and incredibly sweet all at once.
Jester moves closer, knees pressing dimples into it, thumbs brushing and then pressing into it as well. She is rewarded with a low grunt of pleasure as Beau realises what she intends, and the other girl lets her head fall forward on her neck, opening up her back for Jester to work. She rubs and massages until some of the knots at least feel looser, less incredibly tense, and finally as she reaches the top of Beau’s back she rubs her fingers soothingly over the jade tattoo where Beau has been pressing and rubbing and pinching the skin all day.
Beau hums, the sound vibrating into Jester’s knees and hand.
‘Better?’
‘Mm. Much.’
‘Good.’
Jester drags her hands down Beau’s back, rubbing gently now with none of the pressure of a massage. She leans forward to rest her forehead against Beau’s shoulder blade. Sighs.
‘Tired?’ Beau asks.
‘Yeah.’
Beau reaches back. Scritches blunt nails lightly on Jester’s scalp, around those itchy parts of her horns. ‘Go on, go back to sleep,’ she urges.
‘Are you?’ Beau is silent for a long moment. ‘Beau?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, I’ll sleep,’
‘Beau.’
‘I promise. I just—want to go over that weird ass prophecy thing again. God, he’s such a schmuck, having a fucking prophecy from a witch.’
Jester grunts unhappily. Wraps her arms around Beau from behind so she can’t reach out for her notebook. ‘In the morning, Beau.’
‘We’ll wanna head out straight away—‘
‘In the morning,’ she says again, no room for disobedience in her tone.
Beau tries anyway. ‘Just a minute—‘
‘I’m staying up for as long as you do,’ Jester tells her, changing tracks. Her accent thickens with a yawn. ‘I’m really sleepy, Beau,’ she wheedles. ‘I promise we can look at it in the morning—Cad will make us breakfast and Fjord won’t be really awake until the sun comes up, you know that. Please?’ She yawns a second time for good measure, doesn’t realise until she’s halfway through it that it’s real. She rubs her head sleepily over the sharp bone of Beau’s shoulder. Knocks her forehead against it.
The girl sighs for a long moment, all the breath pushing out of her lungs. ‘Fine. Fine.’ She can’t help but laugh when Jester nuzzles against her shoulder, giggles at Beau’s reluctant acquiescence. ‘You’re lucky you’re cute.’
She lets Jester bear her down to the ground just as they are, Jester still hugging her, and collapses with a little huff. Wriggles around until she’s comfortable, enough to make Jester release her. Beau turns on her side to face her, hand pillowed under her cheek.
‘Beau?’ Jester’s eyes trace her profile, illuminated by the faint glow of the dome.
‘Mm.’
‘Are you scared?’
Beau’s breath slows, the only sign that she had heard. Finally, she says, ‘A bit. Yeah.’ And when Jester’s cool fingers sneak under her blanket to find Beau’s, Beau holds her hand. And they sleep.
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Thank You Supernatural.
I’m newer to this fandom than some of you. I haven’t been watching since the pilot aired 15 years ago on this day. But the thing about this show is that you could only have been watching for a week and it will still reach parts of your soul you didn’t know you had. I meant to write this post when they shot the last episode. Hell I’ve been meaning to write this post since they announced it was gonna be the last season but I could never muster up the courage to come clean about how deeply this show and this family has touched me. This post will be extremely personal and speak on topics that may be triggering to some as I will be discussing my experiences with depression self harm and suicidal thoughts viewer discretion is advised.
Six years ago I had never seen an episode of Supernatural in my life which is actually insane to think about considering the fact that Supernatural now is my life. I have always been a hardcore fangirl when it came to the shows that I watched and at that point in time I was heavily in The Vampire Diaries fandom and had no interest in exploring new shows but my best friend @demon-butt-party had been bugging me for years to watch SPN and I had shot her down every time but one day I was sitting in my living room watching TVD and a comercial came on... “John and Mary husband and wife bring home a brand new life. His name is Saaammy I’m big brother Dean.” Those lyrics of course from the opening number of Supernatural The Musical in episode 10x05 Fanfiction. Needless to say I was intriged.
Things were going well in life for me at that time but then something not so great happened… I’ve never talked about this on my blog before because but I’ve been living with a (mostly) undiagnosed chronic illness since I was 5 years old. It’s been many, many, MANY years of struggling within the medical system trying to get the help and the answers I need with little to no luck but the point is at that moment I had been feeling alot better and was managing well but I got a huge flair up in late October of 2014. I ended up in the hospital for a week and had 2 surgeries but worst of all for me I ended up having to leave school. Permanently. So suddenly I had all this time on my hands and nothing to do so I thought to hell with it lemme watch this damn show and in a single night my life changed forever. I dove head first into the fandom although, I have to admit I kept forgetting Jared and Jensen’s names 🤦🏾♀️ . I’ve had chronic insomnia since I was 8 so when I couldn’t sleep I would just watch the show or watch these weird things called “Supernatuarl Conventions” 😆 which i’d never heard of despite there being one right in my hometown of Chicago EVERY YEAR since 2007. That summer has been agreed upon by my family as the worst of our lives this has to do with many things which I won’t get into as they are personal to more people than just me but just know it really sucked all around and some really bad shit was happening to myself and the people that I love. In all that chaos we ended up having to move which I was not happy about (and 5 years and 3 moves later i’m still not happy about) but we had no choice so we packed up our family home which we had lived in since just before I was born and moved to suburbia God help us all.
I was already an angsty teen by that point but all of the shit we’d just been through tipped me over the edge. I felt unheard. I felt unseen. And I felt unloved. And the only thing I had to keep me company was Supernatural. I’m not gonna lie shit got pretty dark for me that year. I’d been suffering from depression for a long time but had always managed to suppress my own feeling in an attempt to make things easier for my family as they dealt with their own troubles but I thought it was my turn to be taken care of, my turn to be loved. But that was not the case. My illness progressed at a rapid rate and the depression kept pace along side it. I was so lonely I woke up everyday and just felt like a ghost. And then I started cutting. People don’t talk about self harm like it’s an addiction, but thats exactly what it is. You’re chasing a high the same as any drug addict or alchohalic. I would cut and wake up with a smile I would feel like myself again but deep down I knew I was just becoming more and more empty.
At the end of that year we had to move again and I was in the worst condition I’d ever been in mentally. I didn’t leave my room that day. I didn’t get out of bed. I didn’t eat or drink anything. I didn’t even move. I just layed there wishing I were dead. Wishing I couldn’t feel the pain, the sickness, or the longing for all that I had lost. But that was all I felt. I layed there in my bed fighting myself for my own life. And do you know what saved me? I closed my eyes and saw Dean Winchester sitting on my bedside. He sat there and told me I had to keep fighting. He told me all the things I could hear but no longer understand from my family, That he loved me that he cared. And standing behind him I saw Sam and Cas and all the characters I’ve loved over the years they all came to save me. But in the end I saved me. After hours of internal battles I got up and told my Mom I needed to talk to her. I had been hiding my struggles from my family long enough, It was time to come clean. The next day I woke up and wrote AKF on my wrist over my scars.
That was 4 years ago and things haven’s gotten all that much easier. I am now completely homebound and legally disabled. I only leave the house for Doctors appointments or to visit my grandparents. I haven’t cut in 3 years but its been a slippery fuckin’ slope. The last time was after I almost died due to a double antibiotic resitant infection in my port. But through all the bullshit one thing has remained Supernatural has been with me on my darkest days to keep me company and keep me safe when nobody else would. My dog Swayzee had to be put down 2 years ago after the vet found that he had cancer that had spread to all of his bones and we only had one night to day goodbye. He was my best friend and had been with me since I was 7. He was my insomnia buddy and would stay with my when I couldn’t sleep so that I wouldn’t be alone. That night as my sister and I slept in the living room with him for his final night I listened to these 2 videos.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2lWuLI4slXk
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ODEN0SJsHpY
Supernatural was all I had left. When I can’t sleep because i’m having nightmares about my father I watch videos of Jensen to make me feel safe and remind me that they’re are good men out there who can be trusted. When I’m lonely I think about how Misha cares about all of us so deeply and it makes me feel loved again. When i’m sad I watch videos of Jared being the chaotic goofball that he is and suddenly i’m not so sad anymore.
We are called the Supernatural Family for a reason and in some ways Supernatural has been more of a family to me than my actually family has the last few years. I love this show with every fiber of my being. I love this family with my whole heart bottom, top, middle and valves. The idea of living without it is actually terrifying. But I know that I will get through it, And so will you. Because we will always keep fighting. And we will always carry on. Because that’s what our boys would want for us.
So I just want to say thank you Supernatural for saving my life and the lives of so many others. And always remember no matter what happens in the last few episodes, Sam and Dean Winchester, Castiel, Jack, Bobby and all the others will live on forever in our hearts.
- Sincerely, Jade. 💃🏽
#may be triggering#tw#trigger warning#thank you supernatural#spn#spn 15#spn fandom#supernatural cast#supernatural fans#dean winchester#sam winchester#castiel#spn cast#always keep fighting#akf#you are not alone#supernatural family#jensen ackles#jared padalecki#misha collins#jadespeaks#spn 15th and final#goodbye supernatural#dean#sam#cas#spn famdom#spn fans#tw self harm
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HSHQTASK023.
luca & henri.
( LISTEN ALONG )
feat. @henridorleans
“please hurry leave me,
i can't breathe,
please don't say you love me.”
- track 001. first love/late spring by mitski.
the actual first time they meet is irrelevant, an event neither remembers. surely, over the years they’ve had conversations, somewhere, sometime. but none of them truly matter, not when faced with what they become. there’s nothing of note between them, at least nothing before the cold november night in luxembourg that they actually meet for the first time.
the setting is a slightly seedy bar in a back alley in the heart of luxembourg, where luca d’ansembourg is chasing the bottom of a bottle yet again. he’s become something of a regular, a ruling monarch always sitting in the same booth in the back. none of the other regulars dare to bother him, they haven’t since nathalie died and luca became a shell of himself. but the color has started to return to his cheeks, word on the street is he’s begun to heal.
maybe that’s why he seems approachable.
henri d’orleans is traveling. he’s been north of paris, into belgium and finally he’s wound up with a few nights in luxembourg city. what draws him to the bar is unknown even to him, perhaps fate leads him through the doors. it’s nice enough, isn’t it? it takes almost an hour for him to notice the man in the booth in the back, pouring out his sorrows into a glass of whiskey yet again.
they meet and they don’t use any bullshit titles or last names that could give them away.
late that night, when they return to the little apartment luca keeps “just in case” they’re just people. and if luca is a little bit broken and henri is still searching for something he can’t quite grasp, they don’t mention it.
“ oh, but i was just a placeholder
a lesson to be learned
oh, i was just a placeholder
a place you will return.”
- track 002. placeholder by hand habits.
luca wakes the next morning to his phone ringing over and over again. it’s wilhelmina, frantic with worry after luca had disappeared into the night. she’s worried, because of course she is. they’re d’ansembourgs, all they seem to do is worry these days. he tries to stay quiet, to not wake henri.
“i’ll be back at the palace in a few hours, don’t worry, wilhelmina.”
maybe it’s the mention of the palace, maybe it’s the way luca says wilhelmina like an exasperated older brother.
but henri has heard the entire conversation and is beginning to fit the puzzle pieces together.
the way luca never asked for another drink, he was simply handed one by the bartender. the stares he’d gotten from the other regulars for daring to speak to the king. the expensive apartment that no one seemed to live in. it all added up to an image of the king of luxembourg henri hadn’t expected.
he makes his excuses and goes, practically sprinting out the door with a new perspective on french relations with luxembourg. he leaves the tiny country that afternoon, the bruises still fresh on his skin, a reminder that the night before had really happened.
luca takes a moment to put himself back together and then meets his twins and siblings for lunch, and tries to push the night out of his mind. he doesn’t frequent the bar like he used to, and when he does he even manages to give them a smile, a real one this time. maybe a night out was just what he needed. maybe he just needed to be normal for a moment.
they swear they don’t think about it, but they do.
“we try and connect the dots and the facts
how do we have to be here?
'cause these hotels, i just can't relax
the more i bend, the worse that i snap
i feel like a goddamn maniac .”
- track 003. ruins by jade bird.
it’s new year’s eve, and there’s far too much going on. it seems the whole world is here, every royal from every country in one ballroom in paris. for henri d’orleans, this is his element. he’s charming and easy to speak to, always able to talk his way into and out of conversations on a whim.
on the other hand, luca d’ansembourg is simply terrible at events like these. when it’s small groups, he can almost manage to seem normal, but with the movement of the crowd and the volume of the room, he’s barely said twenty words to those around him. he prefers to be a wallflower, usually, but his sisters have been pestering him about making new friends. it’s not going well.
luca spots him across the room and trails off mid-sentence. no one around him notices.
he looks almost the same, if not a just a little bit more dressed up.
that’s henri, from the bar. that’s henri, the prince of france. luca can feel the panic set in as their eyes meet across the ballroom, and he only holds henri’s gaze for a second before dashing towards an alcove he’d noticed earlier.
he doesn’t expect henri to make his excuses and follow him.
he’s plotting his escape and how easy it will be to become a recluse and never leave the grand palace again when henri appears in his line of vision. and even if they’re alone in the alcove, they might as well be alone at the world.
when they’re together, it’s like everything else seems to fall away. the responsibilities, the titles, the riches, none of it matters.
they’re counting down to the year 2019 in the ballroom, but the pair don’t seem to notice, too caught up in each other once again. it seems like the world stops as they gravitate towards each other.
the kiss may not happen exactly at midnight, but there’s no one around to police it.
“and it’s no one’s fault but yours
at the foot of the house of cards.
you thought you’d never get obsessed,
you thought the wolves would be impressed.
and you’re a sinking stone,
but you know what it’s like.”
- track 004. the jeweler’s hands by arctic monkeys.
henri leaves before the sun comes up, almost like a force of habit.
it’s easier that way, he always tells himself. it’s better if they just... don’t talk about it. especially because he’s not going to stick around, even if luca asked him to. it’s not personal, just... henri doesn’t need anything more, he never has. the life of royalty made things like falling in love out of question.
when luca wakes on the first morning of the year, he’s alone.
and he’s only able to feel bad about himself for a minute, before he decides that he’s kind of grateful that henri is gone. he wouldn’t know what to say, other than the obvious. and then he’s definitely glad he’s gone, when wilhelmina barges into his hotel room without warning. he’s dodged a bullet that morning, but he can’t help but feel like this is the start of something.
and it is.
“honey you are nothing to me
but alcohol and dopamine.
i’m dying on the sofa
and i barely know the time
like an old man, say i reckon,
i love you for a millisecond,
but i don’t wear a watch or rolex.”
- track 005. presumably dead arm by sidney gish.
they meet again in mid-february at a coronation, and it’s the same song and dance.
even if argentina is an entirely different type of place than paris, it’s still just a bit too lively for luca’s preferences. the events hosted in buenos aires are filled with dancing and parties that are just too much, but luca still attends, even if he hangs out in the corner for the entire night, watching the crowd move around him. it’s not out of some sense of duty he’s terrible at having, but because his siblings are yet again badgering him into “making new friends” and “coming out of his shell” like he’s some sort of shy schoolgirl.
henri is having a marginally better time, if only because he’s got the ability to thrive in a social setting. light on his feet and giving with words he doesn’t actually mean make him a favorite for the people who want to dance, and he catches luca’s eye sometimes across the room and his chest will twist in a weird way that he can’t quite place. when he runs out of partners and people to talk to, he’ll check that same corner and find it empty, luca leaving the parties just before henri can go looking for him.
on the last night of their trip, luca shows up on henri’s doorstep with a half smile and they fall into bed together yet again, this time with the ease of practiced lovers. and maybe it’s just a little bit too close to something he can’t take back, but when henri wakes the next morning luca is gone, his side of the bed cold.
“but the light in the hallway
and the silence in my room...
said i don’t think
i’ll get used to losing you.”
- track 006. losing you by flyte.
luca goes back to luxembourg to an empty palace and he’s glad that his entire family is gone, his siblings taking his girls on a trip for that weekend. he lets himself wallow in pity for a day, asking all the questions that must be common for widowers who are trying to figure everything out alone.
he sleeps in his twins’ empty room, unable to stand his own, the room still standing untouched. it’s a monument to his late wife, he can’t bring himself to even more things off her bedside table yet. it’s too fresh, even if it’s been an entire year. for a place that once was a sanctuary built by a woman who luca would have burned down the world for, it’s become something of a tomb.
and then on sunday, he wakes and he finds that things are lighter, that he’s able to handle the grief. he can breathe in. he spends the afternoon in wilhelmina’s garden, away from the bustle of his siblings’ return. wren finds him there, hours later.
“do you think she’d want me to... move on?” he asks, as if his youngest sibling will have any idea. he gets a shrug in reply, but wren still sits with him until it gets dark. and somehow that’s the push luca needed, that he can let go a little bit. that he can live without the shadow of his late wife watching over his every move.
he thinks nathalie would be proud that he picked himself back up and did what he was meant to do. he knows that his sisters are. when his first valentine’s weekend alone is over, luca feels lighter than he has since the diagnosis, and it shows in his work, in the way he carries himself.
he doesn’t lock himself away in the palace, instead he returns to engagement parties and balls held in honor of the dumbest things, and he does it with a bit more confidence, a little bit of a spring in his step.
“and that’s the thing about illicit affairs
and clandestine meetings
and longing stares.
they show their truth one single time,
but they lie and they lie and they lie,
a million little times.”
- track 007. illicit affairs by taylor swift.
the first event back, they avoid each other for the first half of the weekend. but then henri can’t keep his eyes away, as luca carries a conversation instead of fading into the background. something’s different, something that henri can’t put his finger on but once he notices it’s terribly distracting. he can’t tear his eyes away. and when luca catches his stare across the room, and blushes just a little bit, it’s over. they’re right back to the start.
in the spring of 2019, it becomes a habit. it seems like every royal event, they both end up as their country’s representative. whether it’s coincidence, fate or some sort of subconscious desire to see the other, there’s no way to tell, but they’re meeting eyes across ballrooms in japan and having conversations over cigars in botswana.
in public, they simply read as two old friends.
in private, they’re something more altogether.
they meet in hotel rooms and rented apartments, in europe and asia and one memorable time in new york city.
after argentina, it’s always henri following luca to where he’s staying, and leaving before the morning comes. each time, though, luca starts to find that he wants more. he wants him to stay, but henri never does.
and that should be enough of a sign, that this isn’t the same sort of thing for henri that it is for luca.
but luca’s never been too good at reading the signs.
“one last kiss
i love you like an alcoholic.
one last kiss,
i love you like a stauette.
one last kiss,
i need you like a need a gaping head wound.”
- track 008. i love you like an alcoholic by the taxpayers.
it’s may and they’ve been dancing around each other like this for months. they make their excuses and leave before the party’s end more often than not, check over their shoulders thousands of times to make sure no one will catch a glimpse of them.
they keep it quiet because it’s the only option. luca isn’t looking for a scandal in a country still reeling from the death of it’s beloved queen, and henri isn’t looking to seem attached at all.
they both say they’re getting what they want out of their meetings, but they’re not, really. they’re both too busy lying to themselves to realize that there’s a way that they can just reach out and have what they want.
it all culminates in a few too many words said in the same apartment where it began, when luca’s drunken words become just a little bit too real. henri leaves and it feels different this time, like a nail in the coffin.
luca wakes alone, but he’d been expecting it.
he isn’t expecting his sisters to send guards to the apartment, to drag him back to the palace.
he doesn’t expect the invasion.
“hard feelings
these are what they call hard feelings
of love
when the sweet words and fevers all leave us
right here in the cold, oh oh.”
- track 009. hard feelings/loveless by lorde.
it’s like a knife in his back, and he can’t even scream at him. henri disappears from his life into the night, just as easily as he’d entered it. luca rages when he’s alone, only allows himself to feel the loss of a lover, or even just a friend, when no one can see. he projects a strength he doesn’t have anymore, a mask that reminds him just a little bit too much of his father. he’s what his people need, for once.
henri didn’t know, but who would believe him? he’s the one who left under the cover of the night while his own brother’s soldiers marched into the place he was running from. if he acts a little bit out of line when discussing it, it can be dismissed as being upset he’s been left out of the loop. if he hides away in his rooms for a few days, no one seems to read into it.
when luca follows wilhelmina into the protection program, he only does so after figuring out that henri isn’t there. he’s not interested in seeing him ever again, to be honest. it’s easier that way, when he doesn’t have to worry about running into him randomly. he can prepare himself.
the first event they both attend, luca manages to not look towards henri the entire night. it’s a win, a victory that he cannot believe he managed. he radiates calm only after hours of convincing himself everything will be alright, and only stays as long as he has to, trying to charm people who can help them out of their situation.
henri can’t believe he misses catching luca’s gaze across a ballroom, but that little ache in his chest is something he refuses to feel again. he lets it go, tries his hardest to push everything out of his mind. it’s easier that way, he reminds himself. he couldn’t get attached, and even though he’s a little sad that the fun is over, it’s not the end of the world.
both of them are liars, but they’ve managed to believe it.
when henri arrives in phuket, it’s to no fanfare. when a shouting match that he doesn’t want ensues, they both feel like they’re playing the part: henri as the villain and luca as the jilted lover. but yet again, the magnetism that pulls them together continues on. there’s no way they can avoid this.
neither of them is going to make this easy.
“cause if i had loved you
the way you loved me before,
or if you hadn't left me
with this doubt creeping up my spine,
maybe we could help this ”
- track 011. getting on in spite of you by remember sports.
#this is long as hell i am so sorry but i have a lot of thoughts n feelings.#hshqtask023#long post#ok lmao yeah i wrote 2800 words and i cried a total of six times but this is also HALF ELIZA'S FAULT#i just had to get the whole thing out there so it wasn't in my brain anymore#hshqgraphix
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Closed Off
Summary: Harry doesn’t share his feelings
Warnings: angst
Word Count: 2.3k
Thank you for @habiba012 for requesting. // UNEDITED, excuse any errors.
Harry was an open book. He usually was, most of the time at least. Y/N could tell just from one glance to his face, or a double take at his actions—what he was feeling and how he was handling things going on at the moment.
He was always smiling but she knew he was in pain. Harry didn’t like putting a burden on peoples’ backs; he didn’t ‘enjoy’ knowing that there are people out there that would rather be concerned with his feelings rather than their own. He said to Y/N that he didn’t think he could live a normal life when he was aware that she was constantly glancing at him worriedly with a matching lip bite.
It put too much guilt on his shoulders and as much as he is willing to give; he wouldn’t allow himself that treatment he deserved. He was too nice, you could say. Harry put others before himself and it slowly built up inside of him—the negative feelings that he didn’t think of at first soon got bigger. It collected and piled up inside of him subconsciously that he didn’t even think it mattered, but oh it did.
Small stressors in his routine-filled day progressed into frustration, especially at night. He was in constant denial that maybe he needed help with counseling the turmoil he was feeling. He was conflicted if someone was willing to listen to him. Like, genuinely listen. And even if there was, he would probably feel a pull in his chest, his innermost self begging him to please stop embarrassing himself because this happens to everybody and he’s not special or anything like that. Harry was in pain and he needed to do something about it, he just didn’t know what.
------
Y/N was Harry’s closest friend and as much as she thinks she knows him; she doesn’t actually know him. Harry had a thing where he disappeared for a couple of days. She thought of it as a ‘cleanse’ from all the negativity of the world and a way for him to scour all of the optimistic events inside of him. However, it’s been more than a week and he still wasn’t back connecting with his network of friends.
She already tried reaching out to him. She had left countless messages on his phone—and when that failed—she proceeded to leave voicemails. Y/N was sure that his call log was most likely filled with her name. Still, there was no response and she was getting extremely worried for her dear friend.
Y/N knocked on Harry’s door, hoping that he would find enough energy to answer it. Y/N had brainstormed ideas of where and what he could be doing. Maybe he was sick, so Y/N bought a bag full of medication, some canned soup, and vegetables to cook up for him in case he was. She got snacks too, to make him feel better in the latter.
She pounded her fist against the door again when no one answered the door. Her nervousness began to creep in when she couldn’t hear any movement from the other side of the door. Grasping her purse, she took out the key to his house for emergencies exactly like this.
The door creaked open. It was silent, no noise could be heard and the house was cold. It was like an abandoned house. She wasn’t even sure that Harry was home. Steadily, her footsteps led her to the different areas of the house to check if he was in one of them.
The kitchen was messy, dishes left on various surfaces, unwashed. The living room was neat, however, as if it was bought just ten minutes ago. She hoped that Harry was home and breathing. She didn’t want to walk in on him—you know. Y/N shook her head at the thought.
His bedroom door was open and from a near distance, she could see a lump on the bed amongst the sea of pillows he’d insisted on getting. He said it helped him sleep. It made him feel like he wasn’t alone at nights.
“Harry?” She uttered, albeit quite hesitantly. She didn’t want to startle him.
The white sheets ruffled, his body—assumingly—moving towards her direction. Y/N’s feet were planted a few meters in front of the foot of the bed.
“Y/N?” Harry’s voice was hoarse. He hadn’t used it in days, he didn’t have a reason to. “What are you doing here?”
Still, she couldn’t see his face from the mountain of fabric shielding it. If she could though, he would probably be looking at her with disappointed eyes as if to say ‘why did you waste your time on me’.
“Nobody’s seen you for days, H” She sighed out, shoulders dropping because of the state she had found him in. “We’re worried about you,”
“Tell them not to,” It was a gruff reply, signifying that he was annoyed—at himself, mostly. Even if he was or wasn’t present, he always put a burden on other people and he was sick of it.
Y/N stared at his figure, appalled. Why couldn’t he accept that there are others out there who cared about him? “Can you sit up, please?”
There was a pregnant pause and Harry’s brain was howling for his body to move as she had requested. He sat up on the bed, seeing Y/N’s face with a crease on her brows and a crumpled lip that was sucked in with worry.
“‘M up,” As much as his body felt twofold his actual weight, he forced himself to steady his body for her.
Y/N slipped into the space of the bed beside him. Her sock-clad feet rubbing against the soft material. She was on her knees, skeptically looking at the man in front of her.
“What have you been up to?” She asked, taking his limp hand in her possession. “Been away for quite a while,”
Harry zoned in on where their bodies touched. In all honesty, his mind was blank and he knew that he had no intentions of answering her question. He could only hope that she’d drop it and move on, or drop it and leave so that he could get back to wallowing in his self-pity.
“Harry?”
He cleared his throat, rubbing the tip of his nose with his finger. “I’ve been um, I’ve been at home,”
“This whole time?” Y/N pressed, lingering small circles on where his thumb met his hand.
He nodded, throat feeling drier than usual. Maybe because he hadn’t been drinking enough water as needed.
“Well,” She pouted our, head tilting to the side in confusion. “What were you up to then?”
“I’m just—I was thinking,”
“About what?”
Harry took a sharp breath of air in that cause Y/N to look up to his face. Her eyes squinted suspiciously.
“J-just things, you know,”
“No, I don’t know actually,” he closed his eyes, silently praying that she’d leave it as it is. “Can you tell me?”
“I can’t,” He whispered, lips barely separating to let the words simmer in the air around them. “M sorry,”
“Why can’t you?” Y/N challenged. In her mind, she became aware of the actual problem of the situation.
Harry was thinking and it caused him to overthink. Right now, he was probably hoping that she would stop questioning him.
“I just can’t, Y/N”
“But why not?”
A rumble sounded in his chest and his nostrils flared. His eyes were watering with anger and frustration but he didn’t know why. “Harry, if you tell me, it—,”
“Because I can’t okay!” He shouted at her with a raised voice that causes Y/N to pull her hands to herself. “You wouldn’t understand,”
“If you tell me, I can try to,”
He shook his head stubbornly, “You can’t. Trust me,”
“Harry, please,” he stared at her emotionlessly. “I’m worried about you.”
Harry stood up from the bed abruptly, bare feet planting itself on the cold hardwood flooring. She watched as he started pacing by the side of the bed, pulling his hair in frustration. He shouted.
“I don’t want you to,” She looked at him, worry embedding itself deep in her eyes. “Stop worrying about me!”
“Harry, calm down please,” Y/N skittered to stand in front of him. “We can talk, let’s talk,”
His breathing got heavier to the point where a wheezing sound made its way out of his nose. “H? Do you need your inhaler?”
Before he could answer, Y/N was already pulling his bedside table drawer open, scrambling amongst various junk to find the medicine. She held the inhaler in front of his mouth, silently urging him to take a few puffs. His palms were grasping the area of his heart, hoping to ease the pain faster.
“You good?” She asked, guiding him by the shoulders to sit him on the bed. He nodded.
Silence overtook them again, Harry’s breathing had calmed down but his breaths were the only noise that could be heard.
“What’s wrong,” Y/N spoke up again, but this time she would not take an excuse for an answer.
Harry turned his head to look at her almost mechanically as if he was being controlled without a choice. He blinked his lids at her, eyes deadpanned with a blank expression.
“I can’t,”
Y/N gave him a pointed look and that was when the dam broke. It was sudden and unexpected that it took her breath by surprise. Tears welled up from the core of his jade eyes, his expression crumbling like a piece of paper. A profound noise escaped from the confines of his throat that pierced Y/N’s ears.
Harry’s body shook as the first sob eluded deep within his chest. His shoulders hunching in a giant lump beside her. The salty liquid made its way down his skin, through the blush pink of his cheeks, making it damp and moist. Though his body was leaning towards her, an internal barricade was making him keep his distance from actually falling onto her.
Y/N’s chest ached, not just because of the sight, but also from the sounds he was emitting. Raw, tortured sounds that echoed in her ears. She was sure that it would haunt her at night. The pain he was feeling was authentic through the noises he was letting go. He was vulnerable--he always was-- but now, he was letting her see the parts of him that he carefully hid from the world.
She didn’t know the reason why he was acting this way, much less what made him act like this. Nonetheless, she tried her best to comfort him without any contextual knowledge of the hurt he was experiencing. Y/N wrapped her arms around him, encompassing his trembling body and feeling the little warmth he produced against her chest. Soft rubs touched the expanse of his back in a comforting manner. She could feel the tense muscles of his back tightening even over his cotton shirt.
Harry continued sobbing, babbling incoherent words but one phrase was repetitive. “I’m sorry,” he kept muttering. His lips tickling the skin of her neck when he mumbled the words. An area of her shirt was moist with his tears, but she couldn’t find it in her to care or get angry. He was much more important to her.
“’m sorry, Y/N” He hiccuped, body jolting with each nuisance. “M so sorry,”
Y/N hushed him, stroking the tangled knots out of his brown hair. She really didn't know anything that he could’ve done wrong. Slowly, Harry lifted his head from her hold. His head was held down, symbolizing that he was ashamed but Y/N couldn’t care less.
“Holding everything in doesn't help,”
“I know,” He sniffled, fingers reach out for a Kleenex tissue from the box. “But Y/N, th-there’s nothing to--,”
“Why are you lying to me?” Y/N’s tone was stern. He gulped, eyes widening because he knows his back was against the wall.
“M not. ‘M fine, I swear,” He explained while his hands gesticulated to emphasize the truth. “‘M okay, I swear it,”
Despite his words, his eyes were glistening-- not from the tears, but in pain. He was screaming for a way out but he wouldn’t let himself. Harry was in a constant loop where there was no way out.
“Please don’t lie to me again, I can’t take it.” Her voice squeaked out. “I love you, but I can’t help you if you don't talk to me,”
Harry’s eyes softened when Y/N’s own welled up with tears. The emotions got to her-- knowing that someone so special to you was hurting but they wouldn’t let you help them. She can't stand knowing that she cannot do anything to make him breathe a little lighter.
“Y/N, I’m sorry,” He sighed, palm running across his face downwards. “I don’t want you to worry about me because I don't deserve it,”
She snapped her head to gape at him. “I dunno why you do, I’m not anything special,”
“Harry, please don’t say that,” Y/N quipped. “Y-you’re something else. You’re so so very special and I’m sure a lot of people would agree with me,”
“I know that what you’re feeling isn’t the best and I hope that you’ll learn to share yourself to me but I want you to know-- I need you to know that I have the right to worry about you whether you like it or not because I care about you,”
Harry was rendered speechless. Also, Y/N probably wouldn’t even let him talk until she finished her monologue.
“Regardless of if you do let me in, I’m here for you, H” Her thumb swiped a lone tear dripping down his cheek. “If you want to talk, if you wanna rant; hell, even if you just need company. I’m always going to be here for you,”
“I love you so much, Har,” She whispered, “Don’t forget that,”
-----
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The Kreizler Institute | The Alienist + Mphfpc
[Chapter Two | Tales of the Peculiar]
Jade's POV:
The dinner with Caleb Carr and my uncle was lovely last night. I got to get to know one of my favorite authors, and he gave me great writing tips! After our guest left my uncle and I were up until midnight washing dishes as well as cleaning the kitchen. So it wasn't a surprise when both of us slept in a little late.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stretched before getting out of bed. Once I got dressed I walked downstairs to find my uncle just starting to brew a pot of coffee. "Good morning, Jade. I hope you slept well." He said with a small smile. "Good morning. I slept great. I don't think I woke up once during the night; I must have really been tired." I replied with a slight laugh.
He decided to cook breakfast and I looked out of the kitchen window, which overlooked my uncle's small flower garden in the back yard. The sky was a beautiful blue with fluffy white clouds floating around. A golden sun was shining brightly as well, making everything really look like spring. The best part was that the temperature was a little warmer than yesterday.
'Maybe Alfius will want to join me on a walk today or something.' I thought inside of my head as I noticed the coffee had finished brewing. I poured both of us a cup before I sat down at the kitchen table where I are dinner with Caleb Carr last night!! I honestly don't think I'll ever get over that as long as I live.
"Could you go and get the newspaper off of the doorstep, please." My uncle said, taking me out of my thoughts. "Sure." I replied. I walked over to the front door and opened it to find a rolled up tube of newsprint laying on the doorstep. When I reached down to pick it up I suddenly got the strange feeling that I was being watched. So I looked around to see if I could spot out anyone in particular that was looking on my direction.
After a few seconds or so, I realized that I didn't see anyone really watching me. Everyone was going on about their daily business; but I still couldn't shake the feeling that someone or something was watching me. I pressed my thoughts to the back of my mind before I stepped back inside and closed the door behind me. When I entered the kitchen breakfast was ready. So I filled my plate and joined my uncle at the table to eat and make small talk.
"So... what do you think we should do today?" I asked him curiously after a few moments of comfortable silence. "We could go for a walk. I'd love to show you around the city a little, especially since it's such a nice day." He replied with a small smile. "That sounds wonderful." I replied happily. After we finished eating I chose to get ash the dishes as he read the newspaper.
When everything was cleaned and put away, I quickly brushed my teeth before we got ready to head out. This was my first time in New York, so I was feeling excited and a little nervous as well. I wasn't entirely sure what to expect. The only thing I've seen so was is Stuyvesant Park and the inside if an old book store. What happened yesterday suddenly came flooding back to me.
The memories of meeting Caleb Carr completely pushed the events of earlier that day out of my mind, until now. I remembered the young man in Victorian clothing who was standing in the window of one of the houses on East Seventeenth Street. 'Wow, I can't believe I actually remembered the street I was on.' I thought to myself as I got into my uncle's car.
To be perfectly honest, I thought I'd be seeing New York through the window of a cab. But I didn't mind having the privilege and comfort in being in a private owned car. He took me all over the place. I got to see the most touristy spots as well as the more local gems that get ignored by visitors. Alfius was my own personal tour guide, which made me feel a bit special. I got to see some things that only a handful of tourists ever get to see.
For lunch we stopped at Cafe Lafayette, which was quite fancy. It put me out of my comfort zone but the owner seemed to know my uncle, so I kinda understood why he chose to eat here. We got a table that was secluded from the other patrons as well. I didn't much appreciate all the sideways glances I was getting from the customers. They were all dressed in expensive clothing while I was wearing a Marilyn Manson t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. Not to mention the worn looking combat boots.
Alfius introduced me to the owner and explained that it was my first time in the city. He said that he would tell the chef to make something extra special for the occasion, which gave me anxiety. Extra special sounded like extra expensive to me. I might be an author, but I don't sell enough books to live the high life. I'm more of a bare bones sort of person when it comes to that kind if stuff.
I like to live comfortably not extravagantly. But there wasn't any way I could protest against what was happening. I was the one paying for the meal, and I didn't want to come off as rude since my uncle is friends with the staff. So I just sat there and sipped on my glass of water. "What do you think of New York now that you've seen most of it?" My uncle asked, breaking the silence.
"Oh, I really like it. It has charm and beauty." I replied with a small smile. "Good, I'm glad you like it." He said happily. Eventually a couple of waiters came with out meals, and we dug into the delicious looking food. After we ate my uncle spoken to the chef and owner of the joint. I just sort of lingered in the background... watching. The pair of them gave me great ideas for characters in a book, but I tried not to think about that too much.
Especially when the characters started to resemble some characters I've already written about. 'I wish I could get some inspiration for new characters.' I thought even though I knew I wouldn't be able to write anything. The writers block seemed as if it was here to stay, and it scared the hell out of me. Nothing is worse when you can't create when creating is you're everything.
"Alright, you have a wonderful evening. I'll see you guys sometime later this week." My uncle said, taking me out of my thoughts. He had paid for the meals and it was time for us to leave the cafe. We got into the car and I suggested a walk around Stuyvesant Park. I found it absolutely beautiful, and I wanted to appreciate it now that it wasn't cold and raining.
Since the weather was nice there was a bunch of people milling about. Some were playing with their dogs, others were watching their children have fun, and a few were reading books or newspapers. I was there to enjoy the park and people watch. I also hoped that the ducks I saw last time were there again today, which they were. When we decided to head home I spotted the house I noticed the last time I came to the park.
"Alfius, what can you tell me about that place?" I asked him when we had to stop for traffic. I wasn't sure if he knew anything about the house, I was just sort of hoping he did. "Number 283, East Seventeenth Street. Well, it belongs to my good friend Caleb... actually." He replied. "It does? Is... is there anyone staying in the house?" I asked with slightly furrowed brows. My first thought was that he had to have someone staying in the house if I saw someone inside it. Unless he has squatters.
"No. He gave up trying to rent it out a long time ago. I think it's because the locals think it's haunted." He said with a very serious look on his face. Usually I'm the only one who believes in spirits and ghosts, but I guess that's something I inherited from Alfius. It seemed like he too believed the house was haunted. "Does Caleb think it's haunted?" I asked. "Well... not exactly. I mean... he thinks something is there, but he doesn't believe that it's ghosts." He said, giving me a sideways glance.
Chills ran up my spine as we began to move again and headed back to his place. I'm not sure why, but I got the feeling that he wasn't telling the whole truth. I didn't wanna mention what I had seen yesterday and something told me I didn't have to, because he already knew. But if the house is haunted then why try to hide it? I pressed my thoughts to the back of my mind as we got closer and closer to our destination.
When we got home he parked his car in his garage and I headed upstairs to my room. Now that I had some time to myself I decided to check out that book I bought at the second hand book store yesterday. I took the book off of my bedside table and opened it. The pages were elegantly illustrated with flourish and gold foiling. The page after the title page had 'To Alma LeFay Peregrine. Who taught me to love tales. - MN'
Then there was a quote in a language I didn't understand. At first I thought it was Latin but I could have been wrong. But what was the most chilling and interesting was the forward that was printed just after the table of contents page. It said:
"Dear reader,
The book you hold in your hands is meant for peculiar eyes only. If
by chance you are not among the ranks of the anomalous --- in other words, if you don't find yourself floating out of bed in the middle of the night because you forgot to tie yourself to the mattress, sprouting flames from the palms of your hands at inopportune times, or chewing food with the mouth in the back of your head --- then please put this book back where you found it at once and forget this ever happened. Don't worry, you won't be missing anything. I'm sure you'd only find the stories contained herein strange, distressing, and altogether not to your liking. And anyways, they're none of your business.
Very peculiarly yours,
The publisher"
I sat there for a few minutes wondering if this was some kind of joke the publisher decided to put at the beginning of the book, or if it was true. 'Am I peculiar?' I wondered curiously to myself. After a little while I decided that I was going to read the thing regardless. After all, I spent money on the thing and I was curious to see what tales the book held inside. What were a few strange and unusual tales going to do to me? Besides, I myself am strange and unusual.
So I continued reading and found the first three tales very interesting. Especially the tale about The Splendid Cannibals and The First Ymbryne. As I began to start on the fourth one, my uncle knocked on my door and asked what I'd like for dinner. "It doesn't matter." I replied. "If that's the case, grab your jacket, I'm taking you to the best pizza joint in town." He said, which made me smile.
I sat my book aside before I got up off of my bed and slipped my jacket on. I was heading out of my door before something told me to hide the book underneath my pillow, and so I did. "I hope you weren't writing anything. You're on vacation, you need a break from work." He said as he locked up the house.
"I wasn't writing anything. I was reading." I replied. When we got into the car my stomach churned like I was going to be sick. But it soon faded away as we headed down the street. I desperately hoped I wasn't coming down with something.
++++++++++++++++++
A/N: Thanks for reading!!
#the alienist#mphfpc#caleb carr#ransom riggs#oc#my oc#laszlo kreizler#miss peregrine#alma peregrine#daniel brühl
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Waterfalls and Whirlpools (1)
So, I’m doing Camp NaNoWriMo this year. This here is my first day of writing, would you guys be interested in any more? If so I’ll post here daily with updates! The title is currently a work in progress
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In an antique store in the middle of Perlston, Washington is a journal that’s surprisingly still empty considering the age of it. The cover is worn brown leather and the spine is stitched with faded jade green thread in the shape of some runic sigils that were meaningless to the shop owner. It sits in the glass front case where the cash register is, mostly just because of the age of the object but something in Walter Herrington’s gut told him not to shelve it with the collection of paperback bodice rippers in the worn old bookcase towards the furniture section.
Now, Perlston, Washington was not a big town. It was situated a few miles off of SR-18 on the edge of the forest. They didn’t get a lot of traffic from outsiders, with the exception of hikers stopping in to stock up before tackling the mountain trails ahead. A new face, therefore, was always big news. Erin Curett was the newest face in town, a librarian brought in fresh out of graduate school to take over for the old school librarian.
Despite it being mid-July the air was still blessedly, the shining sun dappling through the canopy of trees leaving speckled patterns on the ground. Wiping the bit of sweat from her forehead with her wrist Erin swept the frizz of her red curls away from her face. Surveying the little house with a thankful sigh she closed the trunk of her car, the last of her things finally inside and mostly sorted. The last few missing things she figured she could pick up from the antique store she had passed on her drive in.
Stepping through the green front door Erin toes off her shoes and pads through the front hall to the living room. Grabbing a bottle of water on the way through the kitchen, she sighs thankfully as she slumps down onto her favorite overstuffed sofa, a trusty companion through two graduate programs and three moves. “Coffee table…” she mumbles to herself, beginning a mental list of the big things the house would need. “Coffee table, bedside table, ah fuck I need some drawers too don’t I. Shit…”
Capping the bottle of water, Erin faceplants into the couch cushions, stretching out over the piece of furniture. She briefly debates taking a nap before rolling off the couch heavily onto the blue carpeted floor. Standing and brushing off her shorts she turns on the television, thankful to have set it up earlier so all she had to do was find something to watch before getting to work.
Building bookshelves was a relatively easy task, although a little unwieldy for one person. That was the first thing Erin did in every house, without fail. Well, the second, after getting her bed setup, but she usually had help with that either in the form of movers or delivery people. She found the process of setting up her shelves somewhat meditative though, and she found she preferred things in a just-so way, likely a manifestation of her anxiety. At least according to her therapist. With the first of the shelves setup she begins moving books from one of her sets of boxes out onto the shelf.
Organizing home books by the Dewey Decimal System is overkill to most, but it means that everything has a home and is easily findable. There’s no guesswork if everything is done properly. Once the first two sets of shelves are full of books the sun has moved across the sky to paint the Western side of the house with dappled light. The growling of her stomach pulls Erin away from where she had begun sorting through the pile of parts that made up the second bookshelf and into the kitchen.
Dinner is pasta and jarred sauce, the house lacking fresh groceries entirely until she could get out to town tomorrow. The rest of the evening is spent binge watching a new show and putting together two more shelves. When Erin collapses into bed that night it’s with a satisfied sort of weariness. Her thoughts are full, dreams and hopes and fears, would she be able to make friends here?
Seattle had been too much for her, the pressure of the city bearing down no matter how green and friendly it may be. She stuck it out for graduate school, but when the job here came through her email she knew a small quiet town like this would be a much better fit. Besides, even if she didn’t make friends, the kids at the school would like her, right? Her mind spiraled through all of the possibilities, and she lay there awake for what seemed like countless hours until a restless sleep overtook her.
The next morning’s breakfast was some dry cereal shoved hand to mouth right out of the box, and a mug of hot slightly burnt coffee. The shower was blessedly hot, with surprisingly impressive water pressure, and with still damp hair Erin made her way out of the house and to the car. Her clothes were a little wrinkled, considering she still hadn’t unpacked her iron, but she did the best she could steaming them out in the bathroom while she showered. The green shirt dress was one of her favorites, it seemed to hide what she considered her many flaws and made her look casual and presentable.
The drive to the town center was quick, maybe ten minutes and she was going fairly slowly. Pulling up behind another parked car, she eased on the parking break and stepped out into the fresh air and sunshine. The trees were cut back here to make room for a few blocks of buildings. An old diner, right next to an even older looking general store, across the street from them a pharmacy that took up an entire block, apparently still with an old-time soda fountain inside. The bank was kitty-corner to the pharmacy and across the main road from the general store, and as Erin strolled along the sidewalks she found herself pausing in front of the antique store towards the edge of the main road. She wanted to peek around, so with a little trepidation at the thought of social interaction she steels herself with a breath to open the door.
Now, Walter Herrington had always been one for gut feelings. If his grammaw had ever taught him anything it was to trust that instinct in the back of your mind no matter what anyone else tells you. It had saved his hide more than once, especially out in the woods, so when he got his first glimpse of the newest resident of Perlston he found himself searching his gut for how to feel. She was pleasant looking, with big red curls and flushed pink cheeks, but something about her just seemed a little...off. Misplaced. Like she wasn’t from this world. She seemed somehow ethereal and yet so human and grounded, an odd mix that for whatever reason made the hair on the back of his neck raise. Still, at her shy smile and awkward wave he can’t help smiling back and giving a hearty greeting, inviting her to browse around as she likes.
Nonetheless he keeps a wary eye on her as she looks around. She picks through a few pieces of furniture, noting a coffee table she likes and a set of dresser drawers she might come back for, but as she comes up to the counter to pay for the coffee table she gasps and almost presses her face against the glass at the sight of the leatherbound journal. It’s beautifully tooled and looks somehow simultaneously ancient and new. Her soul seems to call out to it, although she says that often when she buys a book somehow this time it feels like the truth. “I need that book…” Erin’s voice is low and reverent, her blunt nail tapping against the glass as she looks up at Walter with almost an air of desperation.
He almost wants to say no, that look raising the hackles of his mind, but that feeling in his gut again tells him this is how it’s meant to go. So he can only close his mouth and nod, unlocking the glass cabinet with shaky hands and pulling the leather bound tome out and placing it before her. She strokes the front cover with a tenderness most people reserved for loved ones, and after a few moments of examining pays him wordlessly in cash for the total of both items. “Can you hold the table for me until I’m done grocery shopping? I’ll come back and collect it in an hour.”
He’s all too thankful to get her out of his shop, her energy making the place feel tense somehow. “Sure thing, if you want to leave your car unlocked I can get this loaded up into your trunk while you’re shopping.” The bright smile, and cheerful expression of thanks, makes him lighten up a little. His gut still pinched nervously at her presence but she didn’t seem like she’d be a danger, at least. Weird he could learn to handle. He breathed a sigh of relief when she walked out, taking the book with her, and found his son in the back to help load up the table.
When Erin had finished buying groceries, and making small talk with the old lady behind the register who although slow was so sweet Erin couldn’t find it in her to be mad, she was happy to find the coffee table loaded into the back of the car. She’d deal with getting it out later, that was a problem for future-Erin. Present-Erin made the drive back to the house, put away the groceries, and went to get looking at the journal more thoroughly.
It certainly looked handmade, and the supple leather is slightly worn at the spine and corners. The simple tooling looks almost runic, although Erin couldn’t find anything about these particular symbols in any of her literature. The green stitching on the spine was definitely symbolic, but her searches there turned up similarly empty. The paper was slightly yellowed, but didn’t seem too brittle, and the end-pages were a lavish hand-dipped marbled paper in the same jade green as the thread and a deep cerulean blue. Erin was in love with this book.
Journaling had been a hobby of hers since she had begun therapy, her therapist assured her that writing out feelings and thoughts would help to make a neatness of her jumbled mind. Erin found it helpful, a free space to get out all of her feelings and frustrations, to work through what problems needed confronting and what problems were entirely manifestations of her anxiety in her head. Usually, she made her own journals, but something about this book made her want to write in it.
Hello
She used to find writing like this awkward. A letter to someone, herself maybe? The universe? The ether? It made her feel judged, like someone would be reading it, but over time she got over it. Somehow it was comforting, to get her feelings out like this.
I know, new journal! It’s strange isn’t it? How moving to a new place can bring you to new places inside yourself? Usually I’d be twisting inside about writing in something made by someone else, like my thoughts don’t belong to me but to whoever made the book. But this journal I found today, it’s too beautiful to leave it so empty. A book like this was meant to be filled. Perlston is nice, the people here are friendly enough but sorta strangely guarded. I was hoping this would be a better experience than the city, but it seems like making friends here will also be impossible. I have to keep my chin up, though, it’s only been two days after all.
Erin rambles on for a full page about the stress of unpacking and moving, but how happy she was to be out by nature. She doesn’t notice how warm the page feels under her, or the way it takes in the ink almost instantly into its fibers. When she signs the bottom of the page with a practiced and flourished “EC” she lets out a sigh and stretches. The way her back pops makes her moan with satisfaction as she pushes away from her desk to head upstairs.
The rest of the week is spent unpacking and organizing, getting the house into a state that’s less sterile and more homey. By the time Sunday rolls around the house is mostly ready and Erin is itching to explore. So, with her journal in hand and some boots on her feet she ventures off onto a small trail she found near her backyard. As she follows it deeper into the forest, she finds a small stream and begins to follow it up until she reaches a pond fed by a thin trickling waterfall. Well, pond might be too small a term for it, but lake wasn’t right either. Still, the calming sound of running water and the fresh scent of grass and damp earth set her heart at ease.
Settling down in the damp grass Erin pulls out her lunch and her journal. Eating her sandwich with one hand she starts to write happily with the other. Although a few sentences in she sees some ink begin to bloom on the bottom third of the page, making her eyebrows knit together. Slowly before her eyes she sees a messy scrawl begin to appear.
Are you there?
#my writing#camp nanowrimo#camp nano july 2019#sfw#named character#fantasy#romance#lesbian fiction#lesbian romance#eventual romance
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Imagine having a One Night Stand with Peter only to find out he’s the new ADA
(A/N: Editing later so enjoy this long ass mess while you can. It’s 4:00am and I need to sleep. Obvivosuly Peter won. I’m worried that I can do his character well, let me know what you think. I hope you enjoy regardless of how shitty it is)
RATING: Not NSFW but sexual and suggestive throughout
Imagine having a One Night Stand with Peter only to find out he’s the new ADA
"You don't do this often, do you?" You inquired, straightening up and turning to look at him directly.
"What makes you think that?" He countered.
"Just a hunch," You shrugged, walking towards him and leaning casually against the footboard of the bed, that he was still laying in, watching you.
In the moment you had almost forgotten that you were still naked from the waist up. The only thing you were wearing was your underwear with your pants in your hands. You had forgotten about that but it was clear he hadn't. He paused before speaking again, giving you the once over.
"Well um..." He stuttered, gulping as he struggled to avert his gaze from your chest to your eyes, much to your enjoyment, "Not exactly but definitely more recently,"
"And here I thought I was special," You sighed dramatically, faking disappointment before turning away and once again going yo look for yesterday's clothing that were scattered across the floor.
"What no? I just meant..." He began to splutter.
"Relax, I'm just messing with you... " You eased, tossing a smirk in with the sideways glance you gave him as you pulled your pants on before teasingly adding, “It is Peter, right?"
He was sitting up in the bed you had just left. Naked but you could only see his chest as he watched you collect your things and get dressed.
"You didn't seem to forget my name last night," He reminded, a wicked grin on his face before purposely dragging out the next word in the same sultry tone, "Y/N..."
"At least I'm not forgettable," You quipped before finally finding your shirt and bra on the other side of the room.
"Sorry about that," He remarked, still watching you.
"Don't be. Finding your boxers I'm sure will be a much more difficult task," You commented, choosing purposely not to get fully dressed yet.
Unusually, you were actually enjoying the awkward morning after chat this morning. Perhaps because this morning it wasn't that awkward. So even though you knew you had somewhere to be, you dragged it out slightly, teasing him. You figured you would never see him again, so why not have some fun. Plus there was something about him and you knew it. From the second you met him last night, it felt different. It wasn’t your usual haunt, it was a lawyer’s bar after all, but you had been their a few times before. Like usual you sat at the, drank free drinks, watched whatever game played on the screen and waited for whoever was going to take you home for the night. It was all going the same last night, until he walked in and sat in the seat beside you.
You were drawn to him from the very start, though you didn’t show it, and you actually enjoyed the conversation you had. It wasn't useless and empty, just filling time before it was socially acceptable to go back and do what you were both actually interested in. It was entertaining, challenging and flowed naturally. And the result at the end of the night was a natural progression rather than simply want was expected. It’s always fun, but last night…last night you felt alive.And you were willing admit how jaded you were when it came to all this, last night and this morning was surprisingly refreshing. All you knew is that you felt different this morning than any other morning like it previously, in a different apartment with a different person. Instead of wanting it to end, you didn’t want it to end.
“If there anything left of them,” You continued, with a wink, “Sorry about that,”
A comfortable silence fell over you both as you collected your shoes and belt. Still reluctant to put your bra and shirt on as you couldn’t help but like relishing in the fact that he couldn't seem to take his eyes off you. But then you collected yourself, scolding yourself for indulging in such fantasy. You were a one night stand only, a good one for sure, probably the best he’s ever had, but that was definitely all it was. He didn’t want more and neither did you…
“So I should go,” You announced, tossing your shirt and bra back and forth in your hands before glancing at him again.
“You don’t want to stay for breakfast?” He asked, almost nervously but expertly hiding it and if you couldn't read people so well the facade wold have worked.
“Breakfast?” You questioned.
“The meal one eats in the morning. The first one of the day,” He defined, cockily, tilting his head at you.
You rolled your eyes before narrowing them in his direction, “I know what it is, I’m just surprised you asked,”
“Why’s that?” He asked, surprised, folding his arms.
“You know most people pretend to be asleep until the other person leaves,” You commented, walking over to him but hesitating at the foot of the bed.
“I find that hard to believe,” He breathed, his breathing increasing as you drew closer to him.
“Oh?” You entertained, raising an eyebrow as you sat down.
“It’s just that you’re so…” He began but yet again stopping as you leaned closer to him as he did you.
“What?” You prompted, your faces inches away from each other.
“You know,” He smirked.
“You’re not too bad yourself,” You grinned, “Though I admit your right. No one pretends to be asleep when I leave,”
“So what usually happens when you leave?” He continued to inquire.
“They try to make me stay for another round which never works and usually give me their number,” You informed.
“Do you call?”
“Nope,” You smirked, “But very rarely do they ask me to stay breakfast,”
“So will you stay?” He asked.
“I can’t,” You sighed, almost showing your disappointment, “I already have a breakfast date,”
“Oh,” He commented, showing his disappointment clearly, by creating a small increase in operation between you.
“It’s with my big brother,” You confessed, “So you don’t need to worry,”
“I wasn’t worried,” He shrugged, not breaking eye contact with you.
“Hmm,” You nodded, averting your gaze from his and biting your lip.
“So?” He prompted, after another brief and charged silence, your faces still hesitant inches apart from each other.
“So?” You breathed, leaning in even more.
Another silence ensued. You opened your mouth to speak only to stopped by him grabbing the back of your neck and drawing your mouth to his. Your surprise passed in a moment before you reciprocated. Pressing him backwards so his head fell back to the pillow and you shifted so you were sitting on top of him. Disagreeing the shirt and bar you still hadn't put on but had been holding once again the floor. You tucked a stray hair out of your face before parting your lips to allow his tongue access to your mouth. He kissed you long and hard, one hand on your cheek as he traced your cheekbone with his thumb, the other hand sliding down the length of your torso before settling your hip, digging in as the kisses became more fervent.
“I thought you had to leave,” He commented, breathless against her lips as they part momentarily for air.
“He can wait,” You gasp, before grabbing his face and capturing him again.
He pushed back this time, flipping the both of you over, so you were lying underneath him. He kissed you harder and pressed his body into yours, so you could feel how much he wanted you. You moaned into his mouth before hooking your leg around his waist to draw him even closer to you. His hand responded by going to your own about to undue your pants.
Before he could you pulled away reluctantly. Causing him to pull back.
“As much as I want to, I should really get going,” You explained.
“Right,” He nodded, moving so he landed beside you.
“But here, before I go,” You offered, grabbing the notebook the rest on the bedside table and scribbled, “My number,”
“Your number?”
“My number,” You confirmed before leaning close to his ear, “And I never give that away,”
You kissed the space beside his ear before hoping up out of bed, grabbing your belongings and heaving towards the door. You gave him one final glance and smile before saying goodbye. Pulling on your clothes as you walked the corridor and living room towards the front door of his apartment. Letting yourself out and as you shut behind you, you couldn’t help but feel the weighing disappointment of the likelihood of never seeing him again.
Around half an hour later, you were still running late to meet your older brother Jamie in a coffee shop for breakfast, luckily for you, you kept extra clothes in your car and the coffee shop was close to the station which meant you’d only be marginally late for briefing this morning. When you slid into the seat opposite him, in the booth he was occupying, he gave a suspicious glance.
“Thank God,” You breathed, taking a hearty sip of the warm coffee that he had ordered and left waiting for you.
“Good morning to you too,” Jamie responded, taking a sip of his own coffee, watching you with his steady gaze.
“Sorry, Morning,” You offered, setting the cup down.
He said nothing as he narrowed his eyes at you.
“What?” You demanded, before glancing over the menu.
“What, what?” He retorted.
“You’re staring,” You stated.
“I’m observing,” He corrected, before picking the menu and glancing over it himself.
“J, I don’t how many times I have to tell you. No matter how hard you try you’ll never be as great as I am,” You sighed dramatically, “It’s just the sad reality we live in,”
He snorted before rolling his eyes.
“I’m not trying to be you,” He informed, “I’m trying figure out what’s up,”
“Who says somethings up?” You countered.
“Call it intuition,” He shrugged.
“Look at you breaking at those Detective skills Officer Reagan,” You teased, “Practising for the Detective’s exam are we?”
“Well I have been considering it…” He began before stopping himself, “You’re deflecting,”
“Am not,” You argued, indignantly.
“Are too,” He retorted.
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“Are you guys ready to order?” The waitress suddenly asked, appearing by your side, causing both of you to look up.
You both quickly ordered breakfast before a tense but normal silence settled between the two of you.
“Am Not,”
“Are too,”
“Am Not,”
“So how was yesterday?” He asked, casually interrupting, though you knew that it was the whole reason why Jamie scheduled your weekly breakfasts on a Thursday morning.
You sighed, leaning back in your chair, almost hoping it would swallow you whole and get you out of the conversation.
“Do we have…” You went to protest.
“Yes,” He interrupted.
“Fine,” You gave in, thinking for a moment before responding, “It was insightful, we laughed, we learned and I came out a better person,”
Jamie face fell into a scowl, “Y/N,”
“It was all right, I guess,” You offered, truthfully, “I don’t know Jamie, how you describe a therapy session? I don’t think you’re supposed to feel better after them or if you do. I haven't experienced that yet,”
“So why are acting so strange?” He questioned, giving you look up and down.
“What do you mean?” You questioned, taking another sip as your respective breakfasts were placed in front of you.
"I don't know. You're face is..." He continued after thanking the waitress, waving his fork at you, as he spoke.
“What?” You demanded, preparing to offended by whatever childish insult that he would conjure up.
“Happy,” He finally breathed, “I don’t know, you just look good,”
“Don’t I always?” You teased, before taking a hearty bite of your breakfast.
“I know you like to think so,” He quipped before speaking sincerely, “But seriously, you look good. Like you did before...”
“Thanks,” You smiled, sadly saving him saying it by interrupting, before looking down at your meal.
“Is that because of your session?” He inquired, gently, you could tell he trying the best he could to balance his sincerity, the concern he had and his need to alleviate some of those concerns.
“God no,” You responded, honestly, “My session is why I went to a bar last night.”
“So why are you so...?” He went ask.
“I may have met someone at said bar,” You admitted, letting out a tense breath while avoiding his gaze, no matter how close you and Jamie were, he was still your older brother at the end of the day.
“Oh,” He nodded understanding immediately, a brief flash of disappointment taking over his features.
“It wasn’t like that,” You corrected, “It was supposed to be but it ended up being different,”
Jamie didn’t approve of your tendency to pick up random guys and have one night stands over traditional dating, but he never imposed his opinion on you and never directly asked you to change. Ultimately respecting that it was your life and your decision. But with that said, he didn’t like it either and you could tell it worried him. And if the roles were reserved, you’d probably be pretty worried too. Perhaps that’s why they had suggested going to talk to someone about everything that was going on, because they were concerned and by they you didn’t mean just Jamie.
You’re the youngest of the Reagan children and the first female Reagan to become a cop. And in spite of being the youngest you’d were always the one that took care of everyone else. You didn’t let them know that of course but it always felt like your natural role. Ever since you were little you would do things for your older siblings and other members of your family that you knew they liked or needed but you were never let them know it was you. Never letting your effortlessly cool, sharp, quick witted and perhaps somewhat emotionless persona falter. Though you think they knew regardless, you kept your attentive, loving and emotive side to yourself for the most part, wrongly believing for a long time and perhaps maybe still that others would see your kindness as weakness. Regardless of this, for the most part you were the baby of the family, carefree, sarcastic, too smart for your own good and extremely determined.
In light of this though, maybe it was so surprising what happened to you. When your mother died despite being the youngest and only being fifteen, you sort of took charge and took care of everyone and everything you physically could. You’d always been able to compartmentalise your feelings, so you ignored your grief and helped everyone else do the same. You rationalised in your head that their grief was more justified than yours, you were the youngest and they had known her longer and consequently would miss her more. Plus, by that time you were the only one left in the house by that time and who would take care of your Dad if not you? The same thing happened when your brother died but by this time, you were older and could do much more. Everyone was once again too distracted by their own grief to notice that you weren’t dealing with yours. You seemed okay so they all wanted to believe that you were and it was only until the fact that you hadn’t dealt with anything became so apparent when they realised that something really serious going on with the youngest Reagan, the carer, the family fixer.
Because that’s the thing about grief, you can compartmentalise, push down and ignore grief but eventually the manifestation ends and it resurfaces. It took years for you to fully resurface but their were a lot of signs along the way. For example after becoming a cop you always gravitated to the departments that were challenging so much so your career as a Rookie, Uniform and as a Detective started in the Gang Unit. Something that was extremely unusual especially as most people much like SVU only lasted two years. You lasted much longer. You threw yourself into it, it was hectic and fast paced and you loved it. It was all consuming to the point that you could forget yourself and your emotions even though you almost related to it all. It gave you an excuse not to date and no one ever questioned you about work, knowing that it was either classified or not something appropriate to discuss over the dinner table or in front of kids.
Your family noticed as the years went on, particularly after Joe’s death that you became increasingly distant. You’d go to Sunday Dinner every week but it was unusual to hear from you in-between and for a while they let themselves believe that it was just work. Then you missed a family dinner, you missed phone calls, avoided them purposely, moved apartments without saying a word though you did that regardless and just hadn’t mentioned it. When it was bad, it was overwhelming, you wanted to see them but you couldn’t. They were reminders, that you still had people who loved you and people who you loved early as well.
You still had people to lose.
You still had people who could leave you.
The biggest indication probably that something wasn’t right? Your love life or perhaps your lack there of. You’d never had a problem getting someone, there was always a lot of interest, much to you older brothers dismay but you could never let yourself truly want them back. Because once again to want someone meant that you could lose them. And that was you biggest fear, losing someone you loved, it had already happened twice and you couldn’t let it happen again. So you isolated yourself because it was easier and maybe because you feared that even if you tried and they promised they wouldn’t they would leave anyone and sometimes perhaps in your darkest moments your truly believed that there was something wrong with you. That you were the problem, you were the reason that no one stuck around.
The fear was perfectly illustrated. You broke up with your high school boyfriend during senior year because you knew he was going to go to College out of state and leave you. After that you continued to date but your relationships were lucky to last a year. After Joe died it went down to two months. And then there was no dating, just random encounters and sex. Telling yourself that was all you had time for but in reality it was all you let yourself have.
It was a year and half ago after you had ignored and avoided your family and your friends for around a month when they did something to get you help. You were two weeks into a big Organised Gang investigation and in the middle of day, Danny marched into your station and demanded to speak to you. Already too embarrassed to say no you obliged and you spoke privately in your Captains office. You knew that he had all intentions of ripping you a new one for ignoring everyone particularly your Grandpa that day but just one look at you made his expression change from one of anger to pure concern and worry.
He bent by your side and asked you when was the last time you ate, went home, did anything besides work. And you couldn’t give him an answer because you couldn’t even remember. Everything after that sort of became a blur. You went off work for around two months and moved back in with your Dad. Began seeing a therapist. You reconnected and more importantly you finally grieved. You let them take care of you like you should have all those years ago.
Over the past year and a half, you’d been a lot better. You felt supported by your family and the fear subsided. You were still seeing a therapist and Jamie had become the designated person in the family who checked in with you about it. Despite everything your family still weren't on talking all the time so it was easier just to speak to Jamie. The biggest take away you got from all of this was that you deserved to be upset as well, it didn’t matter that you were the youngest and had the least amount of time with Joe and your Mom. You still could miss them, they were as much as your Mom and brother and everyone else. Now you understood that maybe you deserved to be more upset because they were taken from you so young. Your mom missed a lot of your firsts way more than anyone else. She got to see everyone grow up but not you.
You were much better now. You eventually went back to work but only after you transferred to a different unit. One that satisfied your desire for challenge but also let you nurture your drive to take care of people. And that’s how you ended up transferring to the Manhattan Special Victims Unit. You felt it on your first day and every day since. It was were you were meant to be. It was your unit and the Squad whom you got on with straight away was your squad. It’s were you belonged. You still went to Therapy, every Wednesday after work. And you had worked through a lot and come a long way.
But dating was still where you still fell short. Both Erin and Linda had tried to set you up multiple times but they never worked out. You like to think that none of them were right for you and when you did find whoever was right for you, you’d know. Like your parents had alway told you, they knew from the second they met. Until then though, you were happy with your colleagues and family. And when you needed it, there was always a random guy to sleep with.
“Different, huh?” Jamie teased.
“I mean, yeah,” You shrugged, wavering under the scrutiny of his gaze do you dipped your head low and raised your cup high as you took a sip of your coffee.
“How so?” He questioned gently, putting his knife and fork down which had been working ever since the waitress had set his plate down.
“Uh…it’s nothing,” You stuttered suddenly nervous, quickly changing the topic of conversation for the rest of the breakfast.
It seemed to have worked, you both chatted idly as you made your way to work. Jamie was an officer at your station which meant you were both heading the same way anyway. Navigating the busy streets with second cups of coffee in your hands.
“So what do you know about the new ADA?” He questioned as you turned the final block to the station.
“Nothing,” You shrugged, “All I know is that he transferred from Chicago and that I don’t like him as much as Barba,”
“You’ve never even met him,” Jamie chuckled, as he took your empty cup and tossed it into the trash along with his.
“Apparently he’s doing the briefing this morning,” You added, “Should be fun,”
“He’s not too bad,” Jamie offered, holding the station door for you as you both stepped inside after walking up the steps.
“And you know this?” You probed.
“Well Erin said she liked him…”
“And we all know Erin’s word is holy,”
“Plus I’ve met him,” He informed, “He’s already been here for a week Y/N. You’re the only person who hasn’t met him,”
“It’s not my fault I was training in Philadelphia when everything went down and he’s been in court for the past couple days as well apparently since I got back,” You returned, holding the next door open with your back.
“I know but I think you’ll like him,” He revealed.
“Well, he won’t like me considering I’m a whole five minutes late to his briefing.” You commented, glancing at your watch.
You continued to chat until you reached the bullpen which is where you parted ways. You began taking off your jacket and scarf as you headed towards the crowd of people, your squad, huddled around the evidence board. An unknown but strangely familiar voice filling the quiet room. Sonny, your partner, noticed you approach. He flashed you a smile before glancing at the clock and rolling his eyes. He then quickly beckoned you closer. You pushed through a couple of uniforms to be by his side. As you got closer, the voice became clearer and even more familiar. And then it dawned on you. Your eyes widened as the figure who had his back to you, turned and confirmed your suspicions. Sonny was about to say something when you locked eyes with the man that was addressing you. The same man you’d spent the night with. Your Peter was the Peter Stone everyone had been telling you about.
Your breath caught in your throat.
“Holy Shit,” Peter breathed, stopping mid sentence.
Everyone turned to look at you. There were a couple sniggers but mostly questioning glances as they looked at both of you in turn. No more than a second past but it felt like forever as you looked into each others eyes, knowing the time that you had spent together in the past twenty four hours were playing in your mind. You were still holding your breath, your chest tightening and your pupils widening.
“…I forgot to give you all my number,” He quickly continued, tearing his eyes away from yours and turning back around.
It was enough for everyone else. The moment passed and no one gave it a second thought. Except Sonny of course who was smirking at you as everyone else disappeared and moved on.
“I saw that,” Sonny teased, jostling your side as you both leaned against the edge of Fin’s desk.
“What? You saw what?” You stuttered, composing yourself and finally looking away to look Sonny in the eye.
“Th way he looked at you.” He winked, “And the way you looked at him,”
“I don’t even know him,” You reminded, regaining composure as you both heading back to your parallel desks, “It meant nothing,”
“You’re sure about that?” He questioned, his eyebrows furrowing at you.
“Positive,” You stated confidently, now safely across the room, tossing a look in his direction, before sitting down, “I’ve never seen him before in my life,”
“I guess you do have that effect on guys,” He shrugged.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he wouldn’t be the first man to walk into this precinct and get awestruck at the sight of you,”
“Stop exaggerating,” You commented, rolling your eyes.
“I swear I’m not. You have that effect on people, usually male,” He continued.
“I can’t help that people find mw irresistible,” You began to joke, spinning your chair jovially like usual.
“Detective Reagan?” A stern voice said from beside you.
You turned your head and looked up to see Peter standing by your side. You shot Sonny a glare as you knew he most seen him approaching as you had been speaking. You gave Peter a once over before standing up to greet him properly. You noted how he wearing the same suit you had seen hung up in his closet. His expression was emotionless and cold but his eyes told a different story. They were alight, just like they had been last night. Looking at you as fondly as they had that morning. He was trying to hide it but you knew.
“That’s me,” You smiled at him, your breath catching in your throat.
“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced,” He greeted briskly, sticking his hand out but purposely avoiding your gaze, “I’m SVU new ADA. Peter Stone.”
“Nice to meet you, ADA Stone,” You returned, extra warmly as if to compensate for his lack thereof, shaking his hand and once again feeling the instant intensity you had felt before.
It was unfamiliar but good, amazing even. Enough that you didn’t want to let go.
“I’m Detective Y/N Reagan,”
“Likewise,” He nodded distantly, still not exactly meeting your gaze, “Olivia told me that you had a suspect in the Monroe case,”
“I do,” You confirmed, “He gave me some information yesterday but only if I got him a deal with the DA would he tell me everything he knows,”
“I put him interrogation room 3 for you,” Sonny interjected, pretending to look up from his computer as if he wasn't watching the whole thing.
“Perfect, we’ll see if it’s worth anything,” Peter stated, with a gesture to the right direction, “Shall we?”
You nodded before you walked silently through the bullpen. He waited until you were alone to speak. Just as Sonny had said your suspect was waiting in interrogation room three. You were about to open the door when he stepped into your path.
“We need to talk,” He hissed.
“Then talk,” You encouraged, folding your arms and looking up at him.
“Alone,” He insisted, leaning in closer to you.
“We are,” You reminded, leaning in too, “No one is going to bother us, they’re all busy and will be for a while. Besides how long is this even going to take,”
“You don’t think we have things to discuss?” He questioned, sternly.
“Did I say that?” You asked.
“You didn't tell me you were a cop,” He accused.
“You didn’t tell me you were a lawyer,” You reminded.
“It was a lawyer bar,” He offered.
“So you assumed I was one,” You pointed out.
“I didn’t assume anything. I wasn't thinking. I just…I made a mistake. We made a mistake,”
“A mistake, huh?” You breathed, knowing your disappointment was well hidden.
“We made a mistake,” He concluded, taking in sharp breath, his hands falling to his hips, “You know nothing can happen between us, you know that right? It’s the rules.”
“And you’re such a stickler for the rules,right? I can tell.” You entertained.
“You don’t know me and I don’t know you.” He stated.
“So it’s easy to pretend that we met this morning and not last night, right?” You demanded, your gaze never faltering as you stared him into the eye, taking a step closer to him, “Unless you can’t deal with the fact that you’ve seen me naked because I know I can work with you despite the fact that I’ve had your penis in my mouth,”
He physically tensed up, his eyes immediately darting behind you to make sure that you were still alone.
“I can…” He insisted but his voice wavered.
“You sure counsellor? You don't seem to certain,” You interrogated, taking attest closer, closing the distance between you even further as your hand gripped the door.
“Yes,” He said, putting on a determined performance.
“Then it’s nice to meet you ADA Stone,” You spat, almost spitefully as you swung open the door and stepped inside.
“Detective Reagan,” He whispered before following you in.
And that’s how it was between the two of you for a while. Frosty, distant and usually non-existent, you didn't go out o foyer way to avoid him but it always seemed like he was doing that to you. Avoiding you, and you mostly understood not everyone was good at hiding their emotions as you were but there was still the smallest part of you that hoped that he couldn't be around you because he had felt it too. That instant feeling, we’ll call it chemistry, that your parents always described, that feeling knowing that you had found that one person.
Your person…
But that possibility became bleaker because after he treated you like everyone else on the squad. Like there was nothing between you and there never had been. And in a way it destroyed you for awhile but he was just treating you the way you agreed. So you compartmentalised and tried to move on. But in your experience, anything you pushed won always bubbled over eventually. The next three months thing shifted. The more you worked together, the closer you became. It was just as colleagues at first but it soon turned in to something more. A friendship,
It was even that strange when you thought about it now. You actually had a lot of things in common. Workaholics, cold exteriors but big hearts with big names to live up to. It wasn’t that surprising that you got on so well. You were professional but you messed with each other. You messed with each other but had a healthy respect. It became easy for you both to forget about the actual truth about how you met but it still festered underneath it all. It was the small moments that remind you both of it. After you won a case and everyone was celebrating and you’d catch each others eyes, grinning and the chemistry would overwhelm you both. Whenever you had to track him down at the bar, the same bar. Whenever either of you innocently touch each other, the electricity would shoot through your veins so much that you’d both flinch. Or any small moment between the two of you when you were alone, you could feel it festering still, coming up to surface, closer and closer as time passed.
There were two significant moments that brought you closer. One night at the bar after his sister was killed and you talked once again for hours, just like when you first met, but it was different that you opened to each other. You told him everything and he became the first person outside your family to know you saw a therapist. You tried to comfort him as best as you could, as you had also lost a sibling and a parent just like he had. And he opened up to you. He was hurting and for some reason he trusted you with all of it. Nothing happened at the end but you still felt closer and for the first time since that meeting in the precinct. There was hope. The second time was after you were injured apprehending a suspect and he rushed to the hospital to make sure you were okay. And everyone there could feel it. The concern he felt was more than one feels for a college or a friend or even a close friend. It was more.
You had ignored your feelings for so long by that point that you didn't even see it but it was then Peter knew that you weren't just friends. But he didn't do anything and you had ignored everything for so long that you didn't even realise.
But then it all changed. The surface had broken and the feelings bubbled over. For the both of you, There was nothing special about the day it happened or the circumstances. It was just supposed to be a standard, normal everyday encounter but it turned into so much more.
“Woah,” You let out opening the door to Peter’s office before quickly shutting it again, clutching the door handle.
“Y/N?” He questioned after the door slammed shut.
“Yep?” You shouted through the door.
“What are you doing?” He questioned.
“Well I visiting Erin and I thought I’d say hello but then you were shirtless so I thought…” You rambled incoherently only to stop when he opened the door from the other side.
“That you’d embarrass yourself?” He offered for you.
“I’d give you some privacy to get changed,” You corrected, stepping into his office as he shut the door behind you, “You just caught me by surprise,”
“As did you for me,” He pointed out, smirking at you as he leaned against his desk and you stood nearby the couch arm rest.
“Sorry,” You blushed helplessly, looking away as he had changed from his standard whit suit dress shirt to a soft navy blue sweater that was much more form fitting.
“Don’t be,” He insisted, “It’s not like you like you haven’t seen it before,”
You looked at him stunned momentarily as it was the first time he had ever brought up that night himself and the first time you had thought about it for a while.
“Sorry, I shouldn't have said that,” He quickly apologised as colour flooded to both of your cheeks.
“Don’t be,” You insisted this time, yeah your hand out and brushing your hand against his arm briefly and comfortingly, “We’re both adults and it’s been months since it happened. We’ve both moved on from it,”
“Yeah,” He nodded, averting his gaze.
“Like you said, it was a mistake,” You reminded.
He paused.
“Right?”
“I don’t…” He began before stopping himself and rehearsing, “If that night would never have happened would we be the same?”
“No,” You answered honestly.
“Then I was wrong then. It wasn't a mistake of that night brought us here. It never was. I was wrong then. I see that now,” He corrected.
“Wow…um…” You stuttered nervously, “We’ve never actually talked about that night,”
He nodded, looking at the floor. A silence fell over you both, it was tense and everything was being left unsaid.
“Can I ask something about that night?” You suddenly piped up.
“Of course,”
“Would you have called me?” You asked, simply, gazing at him but biting your lip as you watched him.
“Yes,”
“Because I was telling the truth when I said that I never give my number to anyone. I take theres because there was no uncertainty. I knew nothing would happen but with you…” You continued, not hearing him.
“I said yes, Y/N,” He repeated, even louder.
“Oh,” You let out stopping yourself, digesting everything, “How can you be sure…”
“You know me quite well, don’t you?” More than most?” He asked, interrupting you.
You nodded.
“You know I’m organised and I never forget a commitment,”
You nodded again.
“Well, heres something you don't know. I put reminders on my phone sometimes for important things even though I don't forget. Just in case,” He explained as he pulled out his phone.
“Okay…” You persisted.
“I’ve been putting off the same reminder since the day you gave me your number,” He confessed showing you the screen.
The reminder simply read: ‘Call Y/N’
“I didn't want to forget,” He admitted, drawing closer and closer to you until your bodies were only inches apart.
You breathed heavily as you looked up at him, your chest heaving.
“I still don’t want to forget,” He continued, “The way you made me feel. The way you still make me feel. It was more than just sex for me.”
“For me too,” You confessed.
“What?”
“I walked into that bar just wanting what I always wanted. But I left with something more. I don't talk to my one night stands for five hours before sleeping with them. You were different and it felt right for the first time. I felt right. It all made sense. And I haven't wanted anyone else since,”
“So you haven’t…?” He asked.
“Not since you. I didn't need too. You’re the only one I wanted. No one else…,” You explained.
“I want you too,” He said.
“What?”
“I want you too,” He repeated, adamantly this time, sure of himself.
Confident.
And with that he closed the distance, capturing you in an intense kiss. His hands going to your face as he pulled your lips to his. It was hungry and passionate, tantalising, leaving you dizzy as it went on, never seeming to end and you didn't want it to. Your hands ran through his hair as he captured your lip in-between his teeth.
“But I thought…” You began as soon as pulled away for air.
“I don’t care anymore,” He sighed, leaning his forehead against yours, leading you backwards until the back of your knees hit the front of his desk.
He placed a hand on each side of you, keeping you there as you looked up at him.
“You’re worth breaking the rules for,” He murmured against your lips before kissing you again, pressing his body into yours as your legs spread slightly so he was in-between them and you wrapped them around his waist.
“Are you sure?” You questioned, thinking about all the things he knew about you, how broken you were. All your issues, all your problems, everything. You needed to be sure he wasn't going to leave you.
“More than anything else,” He reassured, the look in your eyes all he needed to know, “I’m just as broken you know. I don't plan on leaving you,”
“How can you be sure?” You inquired, your limbs still entangled together as you kissed in-between every sentence of conversation.
“It’s like you said when I’m with you all the stories make sense,” He breathed breathlessly in a low murmur into your ear before returning to kissing your neck hungrily, slipping further down your throat each time.
“I know what you mean,” You let out, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as he pressed his body more and more into yours, “It’s that thing. It’s chemistry,”
“It’s more than that now,” He whispered, spinning you both round and knocking over the things on his desk in process, “I don't just want sex with you Y/N. And I don't want just a friendship either. I want you. All of you.”
“What does that mean?” You asked.
“You already now but right now all I want…” He responded frantically and you could feel why, before he picked you up and sat you down on the desk, encouraging you to lay down on it.
“To have sex with me on your desk?” You teased, obliging happily and laying down as he climbed on top of you.
“No,” He whispered into your ear making you shiver as he began to unbutton his shirt of top of you, “I want to make love to you on my desk,”
#law and order svu#Law and Order: Special Victims Unit#law and order svu imagine#svu#svu imagine#Blue Bloods#blue bloods imagine#peter stone#peter stone imagine#ada peter stone#ada peter stone imagine#svu x blue bloods#blue bloods x svu#SVUxbluebloods#Reagan#Jamie Reagan
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While We’re Young [chapterThree]
Summary: Drake tries to get his youngest daughter to sleep. Sparring session with Olivia goes wrong. Nevrakis-Walker family prepare for one of Maxwell’s crazy ideas.
“I know what you’re doing Jade,” Drake tells his youngest daughter as he stands in the doorway of the bedroom.
“But I’m thirsty Daddy. My throat needs water.”
A small reluctant smile comes to his lips as he shakes his head at his daughter’s antics. He used to consider himself well-versed in this parenting thing but his youngest seems to defy everything he’s learned from raising his first two children.
He quickly pours water into a small cup and makes his way back into the bedroom.
“After this no more water,” Drake watches Jade take a small sip before she hands the cup over to him. He moves to tuck her into bed, again, and places another sweet kiss on her forehead. “Good night sweetheart.”
Drake is barely out the door before she calls out to him again.
“Daddy!”
His head drops low in response as he slowly turns to face her.
“Yes Jade?”
“Can you tell me a story?”
“I’ve already read you a good-night story Jade.”
“But I want one of your stories.”
Olivia Nevrakis-Walker stands out of sight from her husband and youngest daughter as she listens to the exchange between the two. Shaking her head in amusement she knows Drake isn’t going to win with Jade tonight. She hears him give into their daughter’s latest request.
“All right. But one more story. Then you’re going to bed young lady.”
“What story would you like to hear?”
“Tell me about Mommy!”
Drake lets out a small chuckle as he tries to think of a story about the red headed Duchess he’s called his wife for the last twenty years.
Olivia creeps up to the bedroom door as she remains in the shadows, careful not to make a sound as she listens in on the conversation. This should be good she thought to herself.
“Okay. Got one.” Jade’s eyes widen with anticipation as she prepares herself for one of her Dad’s exciting stories.
“Once upon a time there was a girl who had long red hair…”
“Like me!,” Jade exclaimed as she raised her hand.
“Exactly like you sweetheart,” Drake agrees with her before continuing with the story.
“And she was locked in a high tower where no one could reach her…”
“Poor Mommy.”
“I know. And do you know why she was locked in the tower?”
“No…,” Jade shakes her head as she looks at her Dad expectantly.
“Because,” Drake leans down to his daughter’s level and whispers, “she didn’t go to sleep when she was supposed to.”
It takes all of Olivia’s self control to not laugh out loud as she hears the ending of the story.
Drake places a sweet kiss on the cheek of his pouting daughter as he lightly chuckles at her dismay.
“You’re a mean Daddy,” she tells him as she lays her head on her pillow.
“I know. Sweet dreams my Jade,” he tells her as he turns the light off ensuring the night light was on before closing the door.
He shakes his head in amusement knowing in the morning she won’t feel that way. At least he still knew how to do some things he proudly thought to himself.
He turns to make his way to the master bedroom of the large suite when a pair of hands pull his arms in a lock behind him.
“If I remember correctly,” Olivia’s voice tickles his ear as she tightens her hold, “I never went to bed on time because someone kept me up all night.”
Her words bring a look of smugness to his face as a flashback plays through his mind of the early stages of their relationship.
“And if I remember correctly,” Drake manages to free himself from her grip and moves to stand behind her as they switch positions with Drake pulling her arms into a lock, “you weren’t complaining in the morning my Duchess.”
Olivia leans into him for a brief moment tempted to break free from his hold and give herself to him but she is a Nevrakis through and through. She flashes him a seductive smile as she moves to face him. Drake misjudges her sudden closeness and begins to loosen his grip as his arms move to pull her close.
His hands rest on her waist as she moves her arms around his neck. “I never said it was a bad thing,” she whispers into his mouth without touching his lips.
His lips curve into a smile as he begins to close the distance but is caught off guard when Olivia brings her hand up to be used as a barrier between their lips.
Drake looks at her with curiosity as a hint of mischief comes over the red headed Duchess. Before he has a chance to remove her hand, Olivia pushes him up against the wall of the spacious suite as her hand tightens around his mouth.
He tries to speak but fails when the only sound he can make is muffled gibberish. Olivia flashes him a knowing smile before placing a delicate kiss on his forehead.
“What was that Walker?,” she turns so her ear is close to his face as she attempts to understand what he is saying. Slowly removing her hand from his mouth, he lets out a small chuckle.
“I said,” he begins to whisper into her ear, “you don’t want to play this game with me.” As soon as he finishes, Drake again breaks out of Olivia’s hold in one swift move and places his hands around her waist as he dips her low just above the floor.
An audible gasp escapes her mouth as Olivia is caught off guard at his sudden movement. Drake stares down at her, beaming at her expression.
“Truce?,” he asks with a hint of a amusement.
“Think again Walker.”
Drake shrugs at her determination as he begins to stand her upright. “All right. But you asked for it,” he says just before dropping her again just above the floor.
“I swear Walker if you drop me…”
“Say it Duchess.”
Olivia gives him a side glance as she shakes her head before giving in. “Truce. For now.” Drake places a sweet kiss on her lips as a sign of good faith before standing her upright. She looks down at her shirt and begins to smooth out the wrinkles their sparring has brought on.
“You wearing that to bed?,” Drake’s eyes survey the jeans Olivia is wearing. He loves her in everyday clothes as he notices the loose fitting shirt and light jacket she has on.
“I’m not going to bed,” she says matter of factly.
“Oh?,” a smirk rises to Drake’s lips as he pulls her close to him. Olivia scoffs in response as she breaks away from him.
“As fun as this was Walker, we are going out.”
Drake lets out a groan at her answer as he settles into the nearby recliner. So much for a night in he thought to himself. He looks up and realizes the perfect excuse should be asleep several feet away.
“But Jade is asleep. Someone should stay with her. And,” he tries his hardest to look disappointed, “I’m willing to watch our daughter while you go out.”
“Nice try Walker but Amelia will be over with her nanny and they’ll be keeping Jade company tonight.”
“Amelia? Where is Liam and Riley?”
“They’re going out with us.”
Drake gives her a questioning look before Olivia tosses his phone sitting on the table.
The group chat that includes him, Olivia and everyone else has over 20 unread texts. Shaking his head he locks his phone refusing to read the missed messages.
“What’s Maxwell up to now?,” he asks as he briefly closes his eyes letting out a resigned sigh.
“He wants to relive the night you all met Riley.”
Drake opens his eyes to look at her, surprised, at her willingness to go along with this.
“And you want to relive that?”
“Don’t be foolish of course I don’t. But,” she finishes slipping on her other heel, “it’s our last night in New York. I can’t think of a better way to end this trip than visiting the bar Cordonia’s Queen used to wait on.”
The knock on the door signals the arrival of Amelia and her nanny. Drake stands to open the door and is met with the smiling faces of the members of the Royal Family.
“Uncle Drake!,” Amelia shrieks with excitement as she runs to greet him. Liam, Riley and the nanny step into the apartment while two guards remain outside the door of the suite.
“You’re still not dressed?,” Liam asks his oldest friend. Drake looks down at his jeans and plain button up shirt. No visible stains, he thought to himself.
“What are you talking about? I am dressed.”
Olivia shakes her in disapproval knowing it was futile to argue with the man when it came to his wardrobe. Rolling her eyes, she tosses Drake a light jacket nearby as they prepare to head out.
“Where Jade at?,” Amelia begins to survey the room in search of her best friend.
“Sleeping,” Drake proudly announces.
“Jackson and Jules leave already?,” Riley asks Olivia who nods her head in agreement.
“They’ve been gone almost all day. Just barely stopped by an hour ago to say good-night.”
“Hey, where’d Amelia go?”
They begin to look for the young child before the nanny appears from the bedrooms down the hall.
“I’m so sorry your Majesties. I tried to stop her but I got there too late.”
“She’s awake now!,” Amelia giggles with excitement as she and Jade emerge from behind the nanny, walking hand in hand towards the group of adults.
“Hi Mommy! Hi Daddy!,” Jade says with a proud smile.
“Crap,” Drake mutters. Riley lightly hits him in the gut before kneeling to the young girls level.
“Hey you two. Be good for Nanny Elsie tonight okay?,” both girls nod their heads before Riley places a kiss on each of their cheeks.
Olivia bends down and hugs the girls close, “Don’t stay up too late. Keep an eye on the place,” she says with a wink before placing a kiss on their heads. She and Riley begin to discuss the Council meeting in the upcoming week while they make their way down to the waiting limo.
Liam and Drake begin to carry their reluctant daughters to bed before saying goodnight. With the girls sharing a bed, both fathers kneel at each of the bedsides.
“Good night Princess,” Liam places a kiss on Amelia’s forehead grateful that her eyelids were beginning to become heavy. A generous yawn escapes her lips as she nods to his farewell not able to respond with words.
“Good night my Jade,” Drake tells his youngest daughter for the umpteenth time tonight as he strokes her forehead. This time though, like Amelia, she doesn’t fight the sleep slowly overcoming her.
“Night Daddy marsh’allow,” she says just before closing her eyes. Drake internally curses Olivia for telling Jade the story about the tin full of marshmallows he received from Riley all those years ago.
Before wishing Elsie a good night, Liam and Drake finally head down to the waiting limo that held Olivia and Riley.
“Took you both long enough,” Riley says as they climb in.
“You know if we’re really reliving the night we met you...I don’t remember having to put a feisty five year old to bed before going out,” Drake says as he attempts to stifle a yawn that easily comes to his lips.
“I guess we can’t totally relive the night we met you my love,” Liam says as he looks at Riley with adoration.
“Ugh get a room you two,” Olivia says as Drake nods his head in agreement. Riley chuckles at the suggestion when her phone begins to ring.
“It’s Maxwell,” she says before answering his phone call.
“Hey-...Yeah, we’re com-...Uh-huh...We’ll be there in-...Okay...good-bye.” All eyes are on Riley when she disconnects the call.
“Just calling to see where we’re at and what is taking us so long. He might be the most excited one out of all of us,” she says with a chuckle.
“At least some things never change,” Drake mutters to himself as the limo begins to pull up to the familiar bar.
Tagging: @alj4890 @carabeth @lodberg @vickypoochoices @hopefulmoonobject @darley1101 @thecordoniandiaries @toglidethroughlife
#the royal romance#liam x riley#drake x olivia#choices trr#fanfiction#while we're young#rashad x hana
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