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misscarolineshelby · 3 years

Text

Roommates – Part Sixteen

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words:1,876

Warning: Fluff, Smut

Note: This plays in 2020. It’s all fiction and not based on Cillian’s real life and family.

A week had passed since you told Cillian that you loved him and, whilst you were strongly under the influence of pain medication, you remembered it.

You had, in fact, developed strong feelings for him and whilst the words left your lips accidentally when you were drowsy and half asleep, you were somewhat disappointed by the fact that he didn’t say anything.

Of course, he didn’t share the same feelings for you, you knew that much. You’ve been friends for so many years that you could hardly be surprised that he liked you as a friend and for sex, but nothing else. But, what you had expected was that he would say something, anything at all, even if it was simply confirming what you already knew.

***

You did tell your sister about it and, whilst you were surprised by the feelings you had so suddenly developed for your long-time friend, she wasn’t surprised at all.

She saw it coming as soon as she found out that you were sleeping with each other and she believed that you always had some sort of feelings for him.

In the same vein, she was sure that he felt the same about you and was probably reluctant to tell you and, with that in mind, you continued on as usual and acted as if nothing had happened.

You weren’t willing to give up your friendship and the amazing sex you have for maybes and thought that, if your sister was right, he would come around eventually, at least so you hoped.

***

Then, another week had passed and nothing had changed. At least so you thought.

Cillian asked you whether you wanted to travel to Cork with him to see his parents now that Ireland, once again, came out of lockdown and visits to family were permitted provided that you had a permit.

‘I don’t think I can Cillian. Only spouses’ you said, pointing to the pamphlet he had printed out from the Irish Covid Information website.

‘Well, we are living together, you can pretend to be my girlfriend if the police pulls us over’ he chuckled, before pleading with you.

‘You just want me to drive, don’t you’ you then said and he nodded. He hated driving long distances and it didn’t help that he had only gotten his drivers licence five years ago and failed his driving test three times when he moved back to Dublin.

‘I suppose it’s safer if I drive…so yes, I am coming’ you said somewhat amused.

‘Should I ask Ma to prepare two or one room for us?’ Cillian then asked and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

‘Your mother is strictly catholic and I suppose that the answer to your question depends on what you are willing to reveal to her about our little arrangement’ you joked and, of course, Cillian hadn’t even thought that far.

‘Two bedrooms’ he then confirmed before picking up the phone to let his mother know that you would be coming with him.

***

Three days later, you hit the road for the three-and-a-half-hour drive to Cork after you both had received a negative COVID test result which you took as a precaution.

As usual, Cillian’s mother was excited about the visit and you were excited too. You hadn’t seen her for about 18 months and the last time you saw her she had cooked you and your fiancé a lovely a meal.

Things were different then and you talked about your wedding and all the plans you were having in the future.

There was no pandemic to worry about and you weren’t aware of your fiancé’s indiscretions at the time while Cillian was still happily dating your somewhat crazy friend.

Now, your engagement had ended but your friendship with Cillian had evolved into something else entirely.

***

After a smooth three-and-a-half-hour drive, you pulled up in front of Cillian’s parents’ house.

They both greeted you with excitement and told you to come in quickly as it was raining.

Cillian’s father quickly carried your small suitcase to one of the guestrooms while Cillian placed his into the other. There wasn’t much space in the house and, whilst the house had four bedrooms, the corridors were rather narrow and the living area was small.

‘It’s so good to see you Y/N’ Cillian’s mum said before offering you a cup of tea which you gladly accepted.

‘The last time you visited Cork was under better circumstances, but I hope you will enjoy it nonetheless’ she then said and you thanked her for her hospitality.

You had always gotten along well with Cillian’s mother and Cillian was simply happy to see his parents again after such a long time, even if it meant that his siblings couldn’t visit them at the same time as him due to the visitation limits imposed.

As you were sitting on the sofa with Cillian’s mother you soon noticed that Cillian was gone and so did his mother.

‘He better not be stealing food’ she then huffed out sternly and, sure enough, Cillian had found the freshly baked scones in the kitchen and couldn’t resist.

‘But they are so good Ma’ you heard him argue as his mum told him to get out of the kitchen and leave the scones alone, which made you laugh.

‘He will never change’ you chuckled and his mother nodded in agreement.

‘No, he won’t’ she then said before informing you that she had made a roast for dinner.

***

After dinner and a few glasses of wine with Cillian’s parents, they headed to bed at around 8.30pm as usual, leaving you and Cillian to watch TV in the living room.

You were quick to spread your legs out over Cillian’s laps, getting yourself more comfortable but being vary that his parents might walk in on you.

But, Cillian seemed to think that, once they went to bed, they would pretty much go to sleep right away and proceeded to pull you onto his lap.

‘I missed this today’ he said before he caressed your face and kissed you gently.

‘Me too’ you then giggled before returning the kiss rather quickly.

‘Do you want to go to my bedroom or yours?’ he then winked and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

‘Your parents are in the house Cillian’ you then said and, just as you did, you heard some footsteps in the hallway behind you.

You quickly jumped off Cillian’s lap and sat on the lounge like a well-behaved schoolgirl as his mother walked by to get a glass of water while Cillian covered up his erection, poking against the denim of his jeans, with a cushion.

‘Night Ma’ he then said and she couldn’t help but laugh before saying ‘good night’ again.

‘I am not going to have sex at your parents house’ you then huffed out quietly when his mother had left.

‘Alright, let’s go for drive then’ he suggested.

‘A drive? And how will you explain this to your mother tomorrow?’ you laughed and Cillian suggested to tell her that you forgot some toiletries and he drove to the shop to get them.

‘Supermarket closes in 30 minutes, let’s go’ he said and you couldn’t really say no to him.

***

Ten minutes later you arrived at a secluded area near the beach and you could just tell that Cillian had been there before.

‘Is this where you used to take your girlfriends when you were at high school and snatched your parents’ combi even though you didn’t have a driver’s licence?’ you asked, having heard about these stories from his brother before.

‘Yeah, it’s a good spot, nice and quiet’ Cillian winked as he reclined his seat and you quickly stripped down to your bra and panties.

‘Oh my god Cillian I feel like an 18-year-old again, sneaking out of the house to make out’ you laughed and, just before you could protest, Cillian reached inside your panties and slowly stroked your mound.

‘Just that, this time, it will actually be worth your while’ Cillian smirked as he ran his forefinger between the crease of your pussy and noticed the moistness which had already built there.

‘Hmm yes, it will be Cillian’ you moaned as he was rubbing your clit with his left hand and with his right hand was caressing your breasts.

You were quick to release his hard cock from his jeans as well and began jerking him in time with his clitoral stimulation and the heat inside the car was palpable.

‘So naughty…what if we get caught?’ you huffed out, knowing that Cillian had a kink for semi-public sex.

‘It’s worth the risk’ he groaned and, before long, you were gazing up from the seat with that wanton look in your eyes, pulling Cillian closer and uttering cues while he fingered your pussy and mouthed your firm nipples with his welcoming mouth.

‘I need you inside me Cillian’ you moaned as you were welcoming two fingers into your waiting slit and could not be distracted, even by the crackling sounds outside and the sound of the radio.

‘Come on then’ Cillian groaned as you continued to stroke him and, just as he invited you to take what you needed so badly, you let go off his cock and climbed on top of him.

He pressed the head of his cock against your awaiting pussy and you slowly sank down on him.

‘Oh god yes fuck’ you moaned as his cock disappeared into your tight vagina, expanding your love tunnel while he met your lips with his. Your mouths parted and your tongues communicated the instant of union as Cillian’s cock drove slowly into your warm pussy. You were lost in their unity while your reality transformed around them.

‘You feel so fucking good’ Cillian groaned as you were moving in perfect motion with Cillian’s penetration and your thighs were even perforated with the moisture that was coming out of your pussy.

Your rocking continued and you were now joining orally with diatribes as Cillian’s cock bottomed out again and again inside you. ‘Fuck’ you uttered as his big balls pressed against your bottom.

Your warm tunnel was wide for his cock and your eyes were fixed on the mechanistic ramming of Cillian’s body in its hedonistic role.

‘I am cumming…fuck’ you moaned with the ever fastening in and out rhythms that Cillian was delivering to your womanhood. Cillian too was groaning and you put a hand underneath his balls while he pounded you and the car shook.

With your screams and loss of control inside erotic orgasm, Cillian too lost control and filled your cavity with his warm seed.

‘Fuck, Y/N, I love…’ Cillian began to say but, just as he did, there was a nock on the window of the car on the driver’s side next to Cillian, interrupting what he was about to say.

‘Please lower your window…’ a man said from outside and you could see some flashing lights behind where the car was parked.

Tag List:

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#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader

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phoenixblack89 · 3 years

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Secret Crushes

My second one shot is pure filth. Gotta warn ya. Might make a sequel... Dunno... But the lovely Travis is getting one next.... Then that amazing bad boy Mac.

@lilythemadqueen @fandomsaremykryponite enjoy sweeties!

Warning: Pure smut. Feels. Arsehole sibling. Underage drinking.

Fuck knows how many words this is cos ain't got a clue.

Edit: I've fixed the fucking errors I saw and added some to it. And got the read more to work! Yus! Enjoy sweetums

PART 2 Part 3

The party was in full swing and you hated it. Why your older sister had insisted on throwing a wild party while your parents were away was beyond your understanding. Must be a cool girl thing you thought as you wandered down the stairs to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. The house was packed to bursting with her friends and their friends. Hell, you're sure some of the teenagers weren't even from your town, not recognising the vast majority. Word of mouth had turned it from a small party for her classmates into a full on rave.

Sighing you pushed your way through to the kitchen your mother would no doubt be dismayed at seeing at the moment. Your mother was somewhat house proud and the kitchen was her pride and joy. Never ever letting dishes pile up in the sink, the shiny chrome polished within an inch of its life. You secretly couldn't wait for the fallout in the morning when they got back and saw the spilled alcohol, cigarette butt's and various other less savoury things spread from the party. Your sister was in soooo much trouble.

"Watch it fat bitch!"

You grit your teeth at the oh so creative insult as you shoved the jerk away from you. He glared down at you from his 6 foot height.

"What's an ugly fuck like ye even doing here?"

"I live here arsehole." You spat back, shouldering your way past and out the back door. Taking a deep breath you wandered the gravel path down to your secret escape at the bottom of the garden, hoping no one had tried to get in. Smiling as the old barn came into sight you felt the tension ease. As you neared you slowed, hearing two distinct and familiar voices. Your mouth suddenly felt drier as your heart pounded.

"Oh Connor!" Your sister moaned and you froze.

She wouldn't... Would she?

She knew you had a somewhat strong crush on the elder MacManus brother. His blue eyes and kind smile making butterflies in your stomach every time you saw him. Tears sprang to your eyes at her betrayal and you hurried your steps past the barn, hearing her shriek in shock. Connor and her eyes following you as you stormed past.

"Sis!"

"Fuck off Sara! Get back to the party!" You called after her, as you broke the treeline at the edge of the property. Tears fell slowly and silently as you pulled out a crumpled and almost empty packet of cigarettes. You slipped suddenly and fell head first down the bank to the stream running at the bottom of the hill. A shriek escaped as you braced for the very cold and surely sudden dip. You stopped quickly and waited for the impact against the icy water but it didn't come. Opening one eye you realised you were being held up by a pair of strong arms. A deep breath of relief came from you as the arms set you down on the ground gently.

"Ye alright?"

Your head turned and you gave a weak smile. Murphy's eyes were lined in pink hues, almost as if he, himself, had been crying like you.

"Could ask you the same."

"Aye... Just... Connor ye know."

"Yea... Sara."

He bit his lip and offered you a cigarette. You took it and shuffled to sit beside him. You both smoked and cried silently together. Both content to not mention the fact you were crying to the other, taking the comfort from each others pain and not judging.

"Older siblings, am I right?" You tried to joke, wiping at your eyes. "They sure know how to hit a sore spot."

"Connor's younger than me." Murphy laughed, wiping at his own cheeks. You smiled weakly and shrugged.

"Here's me thinking ya were twins."

"Aye... But I'm older. Fuckin' bastard knew I liked her as well." He sighed and ran his hand through his shaggy dark hair. You nodded and flicked your cigarette into the water, watching silently as it floated away.

"Yea... My sister she... Erm... She knew I liked Connor. Well... Was..... Damn... That I had a bit of a crush on him... Sorry."

"Yea? Bitch. Ain't a good sister doing that when she knew ye liked him" Murphy said, wrapping his arm around your bare shoulders at the shiver that ran you with the cold. He smiled as you wrapped yours around his lower back. "What a pair we make, eh? Our siblings are over there fuckin' like rabbits and here we are wishing it was us instead"

"Nah. We know better... Sara is just a bitch and Connor... He'll soon learn she's one too."

"Yea? What about you? Don't think I caught ya name lass?"

"Y/N. Everyone called me other things though." You gulped, biting your lip and giving a shaky sigh.

"Oh aye? What's that then?" He smirked at you, thinking it was some cute nickname.

"Mostly fatty, bitch, ugly... I'm not pretty or slim like Sara and I get why Connor would see her before me. She's everything I'm not."

"I... I don't... You are pretty. And so what if ye not some skinny bitch... I like ye and any one who can't see how amazing ye fuckin' are don't deserve ye time." He smiled sweetly down at you, his fingers grazing under your chin to make you look at him as you ducked your head.

"Thanks. But that's not true."

"Course it is! I say it is! And I always, always tell t' truth." He smirked, puffing out his chest. You giggled and shook your head. You leaned your head against his shoulder and sighed.

"I just wish someone would see me for me... And not what they always see. Fat ugly little bitch... Wish he'd of seen me..."

"He ain't worth ye time."

"She's not worth yours..."

"Aye. I see that now." He shuffled down to lay on his back, pulling you with him and smiled.

You lay in quiet contemplation for a while, the distant sounds of creaking wood and stifled moans making both your hearts ache.

"We should go get a drink! Drown our sorrows." You suggest, despite being not keen on alcohol. Murphy laughs and sits up, reaching into the pocket of his coat and pulling out one of your dad's whiskey bottles.

"Damn. Read my mind lass." He smiled and opened the bottle, gulping it down without a grimace before handing it to you. You choked down a mouthful and smacked his chest lightly as he snorted at you.

"I'm not a big drinker like you MacManus!"

He smirked and leaned over you so your faces were mere inches apart, a smirk curving the right side of his lips upwards.

"Aye... What else ain't ye big on then?"

"What?! What the fuck does that mean?" You feel your cheeks burning in embarrassing red.

"Well... I'm here and ye here.... Thought we could forget our sorrows another way... If ye up fer it?"

"You mean... In.... What way? I mean... I... Fuck"

You sound like a fucking fool, stumbling over your words as his hand draws patterns along your waist slowly. Biting his lip he closes the distance between you and his lips meet yours. It's different to how you imagined your first kiss to be. You always imagined it to be a burning passionate, uncontrolled thing but this was soft, unurgent and gentle, sending a thrill of something to your core.

"How old are ye anyway, lass?" He asked, pulling away suddenly. You bit your lip and avoided his eyes until his finger brought your face to his once more. "I don't wanna get in trouble..."

"I just turned 18... You?"

"19... You... Have ye ever done this before?" His blue eyes searched yours for a moment before he sighed.

"No... But... I... I... Want to... If... If you want to leave you can. I won't stop you. I get most guys don't want someone so inexperienced."

Murphy glanced around for a moment, seeming to decide on the right course of action before slugged his long leather jacket off and laying on the ground beside you. He nudged his head to the side, your eyebrows creasing in confusion. He gave a smile and a chuckle before lifting your hips and sliding you on top of his jacket. His lips find yours again as soon as you shift yourself over on to his jacket fully and you wrap your arms around his neck. Gasping slightly as his hand drifts under your shirt and traces along your ribs. Pulling back slightly you take in his eyes, now darken with needful desire. He kisses your cheek softly and runs his palm upwards slowly and bits his lip, his white teeth shining brightly against their rose hue.

He licks his bottom lip as he tugs your shirt upwards and lowers his head to kiss along your stomach, you squirm in embarrassment. You hate the extra fat that gathered along your stomach and hips. His head raised to your face and he sighed.

"Ye beautiful lass. Every single inch..."

"Don't... I know its not true." You reply, tears coming to your eyes again in frustration. Anger at yourself for the lack of control you have over your own eating habits. You comfort ate, it was a habit nothing seemed to break you of. Murphy kissed you gently again and gazed down into Y/E/C eyes softly. His thumb running along your cheek softly.

"Told ye. Always tell t' truth. Believe me... Ye beautiful... Absolutely... Beautiful." He whispered between giving you soft kisses along you jawline and down your neck. You moaned as he kissed a sensitive spot. He smirked against your skin and focused on that one spot, sucking, licking and grazing it with his teeth. His hand reached under your shirt and stroked gently over the chubby plains of your torso to your chest.

A sharp gasp released from your mouth as his fingers ran along the edge of the unattractive sports bra you wore. Smirking against your collarbone he slipped his fingers inside and tweaked your nipple. A flood of arousal dropped into your panties and you moaned, arching upwards into his touch.

"Ye like that lass? Feel good, aye?"

You nodded and pulled his lips to yours. He groaned, your hips bucking upwards into his at the sensations he was causing to rush through you.

He pulled away and leaned back onto his knees, his hand running down your body to your covered core. He licked his lips and glanced at you as he ran a finger along your jeans button. Nodding at him, he smiled and flicked it open before dragging the zipper down slowly. His hands slipped inside and tugged them down over your hips as you bit your lip in nervousness.

You sat up slightly and reached for his belt, eyes boring into his blue ones as you pulled his belt from his jeans, tossing it to the side carelessly and reaching for the waistband. Shuffling slightly he helped you ease them down over his hips before laying you both down again. Only your underwear separating the heat of your bodies as he kissed you passionately, his hips rocking slowly into yours. Your hands found their way into his hair and tugged slightly as you both began panting at the friction of your hips. Your underwear was damp with your slick.

"Are ye sure ye want this lass?" Murphy panted into your mouth as his hand reached between you to cup your wet core, rubbing it hard causing you to gasp and squirm under him to get more pressure, more friction, more... Something, you didn't know.

"Please... Murphy..."

"I got ye lass." He whispered as his finger reaching under the elastic of your plain cotton underwear and ran through the folds of your dripping core. His fingers slid into you as his thumb found the bundle of nerves at the centre of your thighs. Rubbing his thumb in smooth, lazy circles he kissed against the spot he'd sucked a dark mark onto on your neck. His pants and moans echoing loudly in your ear as his fingers thrust in and out of you in time of his circling thumb. Your heart sped up and pounded against your ribs as a totally new sensation began building in your gut. "Cum fer me beautiful."

It felt like something inside had snapped and your body tensed all over, your legs shaking around Murphy's strong arm, your breath caught in your throat and as sudden as it began, it ended and you felt yourself more relaxed than you could ever remember being before.

"Good girl."

"Fuck... Murphy..."

He raised his head and smiled cockily down at you. He bought his hand out of your underwear and raised it to his mouth. You could see the glint of your moisture coating his long, graceful fingers in the weak starlight as he began to lick and suck his fingers clean. Your jaw fell open at that sight. You had heard of people doing it but to see someone do that, and with your juices no less, caused a rush of shame and desire to course through you.

His face lowered to yours once more and he smirked against your ear.

"Maybe next time... I'll lick this delicious pussy out..."

"Murphy..." You gasped, feeling slick pooling once more.

"Aye lass?"

"Please..."

He kissed you once more, hands finding the waistband of your underwear and gently lowering them down and gazing down at your core. Your legs closed in shame as your cheeks heated. He chuckled and pushed them apart again and studied you intensely.

"Fuckin' perfection."

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet, fishing out a condom and ripping it open with his teeth. His eyes found yours as he shuffled out of his boxers and grasped his hard thick cock in one hand, pumping it up and down for several moments, his eyes never leaving the sight of your bared core. He rolled the condom down his cock and leaned over you once more.

"Are ye absolutely sure beautiful?"

"I'm sure Murphy." Your voice replied, an edge of nervousness obvious in the way your voice sounded so quiet and wavered slightly. He smiled and kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you felt his cock brush against your mound as he positioned himself between your thighs.

His tip ran along your slit as he guided it and you gasped at the foreign feeling. His eyes held yours as he slowly pushed into you. A sharp cry of pain came from you and your body tensed under him. He reached for your hand, which was clawing at the fabric of his coat and grasped it in his own. Holding himself still and steady until you adjusted. You nodded slightly as his lips ran along your cheek, kissing away the tears that had slipped from your eyes. His cock inched slowly deeper into your unexplored pussy and he paused again to look you in the eye, making sure you were okay with each slow thrust.

"Ye alright?"

"Hmmhummm." You replied, gritting your teeth as you felt the burning grow sharper as he inched forward more. He gave a groan and shook with restraint. His heart was pounding in his ears at the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing his cock. He had never been with a virgin and but knew from Connor's numerous boasts that they felt tighter than anything else. He was by no means a virgin himself and was determined to make this a pleasurable experience for you.

Even if it killed him.

He gave a loud moan as he finally bottomed out inside you and kissed you passionately allowing you a moment or two of adjustment. You ran your fingers through his hair over and over as your tongues battled. You felt his cock twitch deep inside you and gasped into his mouth as his thumb once more began circling your clit.

"Murphy please..." You moaned, twitching your hips to encourage him to begin moving. His thrusts were slow and steady against you, taking his time to build until you both were absolutely sure you felt no pain anymore. His hand held one of your thighs around his hip and the other circling your clit, pleasure building slowly for the both of you. Sweet kisses left against each others necks as he began thrusting a little faster with each thrust.

Your back ached up to his chest as he hit a spot inside you that made you feel a sharp jolt of pure bliss.

"Ohhh... Fuckkkk.... Murphy..." You gasped into his mouth as he began aiming for that spot over and over, increasing his circling thumb's speed and pressure. Your toes curled in your boots as you suddenly were blinded by white light and your orgasm ripped through you. A loud shriek of unadulterated pleasure ripped from your throat. Murphy smirked and thrust harder, chasing his own release now he'd made you have a chance to cum over his cock. The walls of your pussy fluttering around his cock and your clit twitching under his thumb. His hair hung around his face in sweat soaked strands and you brushed them away to kiss him, still shaking in post orgasmic bliss. His body tensed against yours and he came, a guttural moan echoing loudly around you. His breaths coming sharp against your neck as he slumped over you and gave a little huff of pleasure.

"Fuck lass. I've never had one like that before."

"Huh... Guess that means it was okay?" You panted, suddenly nervous again. Would he feel satisfied? Did he really enjoy it? Was it good? Were you good?

He pushed himself onto his elbows and kissed you deeply, fucking your mouth with his tongue.

"Beautiful, I ain't ever lettin' ye go! Not after that."

You smiled as you kissed again with a laugh.

"MURPH! WHERE ARE YE?!"

You both froze and looked at each other. Murphy quickly pulled his cock from you, grimacing at the slight splattering of blood on the condom as he pulled it off and pulled his boxers and jeans on as you, too quickly dressed once more. Footsteps and the sounds of snapping twigs coming closer.

"Murph?!"

"Aye! I'm 'ere!" He yelled back as you stood and dusted down his jacket, handing it to him so he could swing it back onto his body. He grabbed your face and planted a sweet kiss on your lips quickly and smoothed down your hair as he gave your cheek a sweet kiss.

"There ye are! Oh..."

Connor paused and glanced between you two with an eyebrow raised.

"What’s going on here then, Murph?" He smirked. Murphy pushed his brother back in the direction of the house.

"I was helping her. She seemed upset. Dunno why though." He glanced over his shoulder at you and winked cheekily. "Kid needed a shoulder t' cry on. That's all."

"That right... Well come on. We best get home before Ma sends t' alarm out. Ye know how Uncle Silas is."

"Aye."

The brothers walked away and you followed slowly, Murphy glancing back over his shoulder at you with a happy but shy smile ghosting his face every now and then. Connor waved goodbye at the door to Sara and blew her a kiss in return to the one she'd blown and you rolled your eyes at the pair. Sara tried to grab your arm as you passed and you shrugged her off, rushing upstairs to your room and locking the door. You went to the window and watched as the twins walked down the drive.

Murphy paused before he left the gate, looked up and smiled widely at you and raised his hand. The streetlight lit his face up and you smiled, giving a small laugh as Connor shoved him ahead with a laugh and a glance upwards. You ducked away from the window quickly and lay on your bed, a ridiculously wide smile bracing your own face as you bit your lip and gave a small laugh.

Maybe tomorrow at school wouldn't be so bad. Not now you had a secret thing going on the darker haired MacManus.

#normanreedus #smutty goodness #murphy macmanus #Murphy macmanus fanfiction #Bds fanfiction #Murphy x reader #Bds smut #Murphy macmanus smut #PhoenixBWrites #boondock saints fanfiction #boondock saints smut #Secret Crushes

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slytherinbarnes · 3 years

Text

Sub Rosa [99]

xv. the dying of the light

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 6.0k

Warnings: language, mentions of blood, angst, Cadogan is a piece of shit, anxiety, fighting, death, just some very sad, very heavy stuff.

Summary: bellamy is gone, gabriel is gone, and now madi has disappeared. desperation rises as you all race to save madi before she too is taken from you.

a/n: sorry, but my brain is struggling to process that this is number 99!!!!! i swear i just posted episode 1 like last week? how is this possible? the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

The first thing you realize is that Miller saved all of your lives with his quick thinking. You turn and meet his gaze, grateful that he was fast enough to get the bomb behind one of the solid doors. “Thank you.”

He nods in acknowledgment, before another soft rumble settles through the room, and the door the bomb is behind starts to groan softly. Which brings you to the second realization, that in saving all of your lives, Miller possibly doomed the others. Because the door he threw the bomb behind is the door that leads to the rest of the bunker. It’s the door that leads to the stone, in the rec room with Jackson, Murphy, Emori, and Raven.

Miller immediately pries the door in question off the hinges with one of the spears from the arena, revealing a doorway of stacked concrete, confirming what you already knew. The others are trapped down below, and the rest of you are trapped up here. You have access to the outside, but no way to reach the stone or the rest of your friends. You turn to look at Clarke, seeking out her counsel, despite still being angry with her. She gives you a desperate look, before a look of realization passes over her face. “We can still get to Madi.”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small vial, three blue pills inside. You recognize them immediately as nano trackers, likely brought over by Sheidheda, the same ones Cadogan used to leave the bunker. Clarke unscrews the bottle and immediately dumps one out, preparing to swallow it, but Gaia closes the space between them and stops her hand from dropping the pill into her mouth. “Clarke, we have to think this through.”

“Gaia's right. Only the second pill’s for me.” Clarke looks over at you in surprise, not expecting you to take her side after what she did. But she killed Bellamy to protect Madi, and if something happens to Madi, then Bellamy and Gabriel died for nothing. All of it was for nothing. You refuse to let their deaths be in vain, which is why you hold your hand out for one of the pills, and Clarke quickly passes one to you. Behind you, Octavia speaks up, moving closer to you and Clarke. “We're gonna need an inside man.”

You both understand her statement for what it is: an offer to go with the two of you, so Clarke hands Octavia the third and final pill. All of you swallow them, one after the next, Octavia the last to do so, and you stand staring at each other, waiting to instantly disappear the way that Cadogan did.

Except, you don’t.

The three of you stay firmly in place, looking at each other in absolute confusion. “Cadogan disappeared right away.”

“Why isn't this working?”

Hope answers you and Clarke both, shrugging a little as she does. “Maybe somebody has to be waiting in Bardo to pull you through.”

A strange look passes over Clarke’s face, half anger, half amusement, before settling into one of determination. She crosses the room in three strides, stopping at the door to the rest of the bunker, clamping her hands down on the first piece of stone she sees. She pulls, letting out a cry of effort as she does, the concrete moving nowhere. She tries again, her hands slipping off the stone, likely scratching her the way they did when the two of you tried to dig to this very same bunker, and you shake your head before moving towards her. “Clarke.”

She doesn’t turn around, determinedly yanking at the stones and sliding off them, making no progress, going nowhere, but still trying nonetheless. “We have to get to Madi! Cadogan could be digging into her brain right now.”

You reach out for her, grabbing her arm and spinning her towards you. “Clarke! We spent days trying to dig our way to the bunker before we nearly died in that collapse, and this is no different. You’re gonna dislodge a stone and get yourself killed if you keep this up, and you’re no use to Madi if you’re dead.”

She sets her jaw, and you think she’s about to start a fight with you before her eyes drop and her gaze softens. “Your shoulder.”

You peer down at your shoulder and the blood staining your shirt, the wound from Sheidheda still bleeding, the pain forgotten to you in the chaos of everything that’s happened since then. “It’s nothing.”

You try to shrug her off, stepping away from her, not wanting her comfort or her help, but she reaches out to grab your arm, her hand closing around one of the cuts on your forearm. She can feel the wetness on her hand as soon as she grabs you, and she immediately lets go of you and looks at you in alarm. “La lune!”

She grabs your hand and turns your arm over, eyes scanning the cuts on both of your forearms. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I honestly can't feel it. Adrenaline and all that.”

“Come here.” She tries to pull you to the side, and you don’t budge at first, but she gives you one of those looks that lets you know this is not negotiable, because your own words apply to you in this moment. You’re no good to Madi dead, and bleeding to death because you’re mad at Clarke is not the way to go. So when she tugs you to the side a second time, you let her, and she motions for you to sit across from her as she tears strips of cloth from the bottom of her shirt. The tension between the two of you temporarily melts away as she ties makeshift bandages around your forearms and shoulder, your access to real bandages nonexistent. You sit quietly as she fixes you up the best she can, before she finally breaks the silence to whisper, “I’m sorry about Bellamy, I swear I am. I didn’t want to do it, but I had to, to protect Madi. You can hate me forever, la lune, I’ll understand.”

You sit in silence for a second, weighing her words, and you can tell from the anguish in her voice that she means it. But that doesn't erase all of your feelings instantly, as much as you wish it did. You wish you could erase the hurt and the grief and the anger, but you can’t. It’s still raw and open, weighing on you at every moment. “Clarke, you’re my shining star. You’re a part of me. I understand why you did what you did, and I understand why you feel like it was the only choice. But that doesn't change the fact that Bellamy is dead and you pulled the trigger. I don't hate you, I don't think I ever could, but I don't forgive you either, at least not yet. Hopefully one day I’ll forgive you and we can move past this, but right now, I'm too damn hurt and angry.”

She nods her head, looking up at you with tears in her eyes. “I understand. If it helps, I regret it. I don't think I’d do it again, especially if I knew that Madi was just gonna turn herself in despite everything.”

You say nothing for a long second, your voice a soft whisper, cracking with emotion when you say, “I just wish I could have said goodbye. I gave him back the ring, you know, and he died thinking I didn't love him, but I do. I love him with my whole heart, my entire being. He’s my soulmate, and he died thinking that I hate him.”

You feel your bottom lip quiver before tears start to spill down your face, and you see tears in Clarke’s eyes before she pulls you in for a hug, holding you as you cry for Bellamy. And in this moment, you allow yourself to forget what happened to him, focusing only on the fact that he’s gone. You allow your twin to comfort you, hold you close, softly humming Clair de lune in your ear until you start to calm down again. And even after the two of you break apart, you stay side by side, unable to leave each other’s side, even now, when everything between you is tense and weird.

Indra is the first to break the silence and tension hanging over the room. “We should discuss the plan. Clarke, la lune, and Octavia bring us over. We get Madi and kill their leader.”

Gaia jumps down from the perch she was on, walking towards her mother. “Killing Cadogan won't change anything.”

“He can't chase us if he's dead.”

She shakes her head at Indra trying to get her to understand. “You've seen faith, Mother. You kill the Commander, another takes her place. You kill the Fleimkepa, another takes his place. Faith doesn't just die, it gets carried forward. Cadogan's people are no different.”

Miller asks the question that you’re all beginning to wonder. “Then how does this end?”

“Bellamy asked that question, too.” You all look towards Octavia, the mood sobering even further at the mention of Bellamy. “One Last War, and then we transcend and we become the light.”

Across the room, Jordan breaks his silence. “It's a beautiful idea, but fighting is not how we get there. War is a failure of everything. Which is why it's a test, not a war.”

“Test, war, test, war. The disciples have been studying the Bardo texts for over 1,000 years. You really think you know better?”

Jordan turns to Hope, answering her question with complete confidence. “Yes. And it's not just that I read some old books, I felt it. That red sun toxin showed me something. I couldn't figure it out, but I knew it was important, and then I read the Bardo texts, and it hit me... the next step in human evolution.”

You can feel Clarke going more restless with each passing second, until she abruptly stands and snaps, “Nonsense.”

Everyone turns to face her after the outburst, but she avoids everyone’s eyes as she stalks up the ramp towards the exit. “All that matters now is saving Madi and killing Cadogan. There's no Last War or test. Bellamy's dead because he believed that crap, and I've heard enough!”

You look after her retreating figure, wondering if you should go after her. Everything between the two of you is weird, and your anger is telling you to stay, bristling at the casual way she mentioned Bellamy’s death. But your softer side, the part of you that’s connected to her, it’s telling you to go after her, comfort her, despite what she did. Gaia seems to sense your conflict, because she steps towards you with a smile and whispers, “I got it.”

You nod in thanks, relieved that you don’t have to decide, before sitting back down and beginning the excruciating process of waiting once more. You’re quickly realizing that there’s nothing you hate more than waiting: waiting to fight, waiting to escape, waiting to die. Because waiting is usually silent, and that silence easily morphs into your regrets, and fears, and worries. It’s when you think about everything you've done wrong and everything you haven't yet gotten the chance to do. There’s time to think of who you’ve killed and who you’ve lost, which opens up the door to the painful memories that usually stay locked deep in your brain, in that place you try to keep hidden from everyone, including yourself.

Waiting is suffocating, and in the time you’ve spent on Earth, Sanctum, Skyring, and Bardo, you’ve already done too much of it.

You stand, starting to pace around the rotunda, the way Bellamy used to pace when he first got back from space. The same habit he turned to when he had to wait. And as your feet move you around the room in continuous circles, you start to understand. It’s rhythmic, the way your feet carry you across the floor, boots thudding softly against the metal, and each time you walk past Hope, the thuds stutter, your footsteps softened by an uneven spot on the floor.

As you pace around the room, you force your mind to stay on the safe topics. The ones that don't involve painful memories or the ghosts that seem to stalk you. Instead, you keep things light, reciting constellations and medicinal plants, anything to keep your mind occupied. A few times you slip up, your thoughts drifting to what Bellamy was thinking in his final moments, as he bled out on Sanctum alone. You start to worry about Madi and what she’s going through without you, cursing yourself for not getting to her sooner and stopping her from leaving. You think about Gabriel and his final words to you, what they meant... You shake your head, clearing the spiral of memories and grief, shifting back to your safe topics, ignoring the thoughts that are begging to pull you down.

You only pause your pacing once, when Clarke and Gaia come out of the decontamination room and take up a spot on the ramp, sitting across from each other cross legged, Gaia talking to your twin softly. You resume your pacing, glancing at them every few minutes, realizing that Gaia must be teaching Clarke to calm her mind the way she taught Madi to.

But Clarke’s peace is short lived, and within minutes she’s standing, her voice rising as she glares down at Gaia. “How do you expect me to focus right now when my daughter is out there, probably being tortured right now?”

“You think I don't know that?” Gaia stands abruptly, and you pause your pacing to watch them. She gives Clarke an anguished look, her voice dropping slightly when she adds, “I love her too, Clarke.”

A look of sympathy passes over Clarke’s face before she reaches out and pulls the former Flamekeeper into a hug. “I know, I know, I'm sorry.”

You’re about to start pacing again, the conflict seemingly resolved, when you catch a glimpse of green around Clarke. She pulls away from Gaia, her hands starting to disappear, and she turns to look at you with a smile. “It's working.”

Clarke disappears in a haze of emerald, leaving you to turn and look at Octavia, “I’m next.”

Miller yells out to you, “La lune, catch!”

You turn towards him, catching the pistol he tosses your way, seconds before you too fade away from the bunker. All around you, the world is green, bright and hazy, until it fades into a darker hue. It takes a second for you to realize that you’re not in the Stone Room, but in the oxygen farm, surrounded by an army of disciples, all of them pointing weapons right at you and Clarke. You raise the pistol that Miller tossed to you, you and Clarke aiming back at the disciples, and Octavia appears a second later, instantly lifting her rifle.

A disciple near the font of the armed group looks towards you and loudly yells, “Drop your weapons! Hands in the air!”

Octavia drops her weapon first, lifting her hands in surrender, and you and Clarke exchange a look before you both follow suit. Despite not wanting to surrender to the disciples, you both know you have no choice, and if you choose to take a stand here, it will only result in the three of you ending up dead. So you both drop your weapons and lift your hands in the air, following the commands of the disciples as they close in on you. The three of you are restrained and led past the waiting army, through the oxygen farm and the halls of Bardo until you’re delivered to a cell.

They release all three of you in one room, and you stand there for a minute, stunned by what just happened. “Why did we show up in the oxygen farm?”

Clarke shakes her head, “I don't know. But they’re preparing for a war, which means they have Madi and she’s in trouble.”

She plops down onto the nearest bed in frustration, dropping her head into her hands before she starts to softly cry. Octavia sits down beside her, offering her comfort, the moment soon overshadowed by someone singing. And not just someone, Sheidheda. He sings the Grounder Anthem, “Take a Life With Me”, over and over on a loop, until there is no sadness left in your prison cell, only frustration.

You take up pacing again as nothing you do drowns out the awful, annoying sound, which continues repeatedly, until you’re sure you’re about to lose your mind. You can sense Clarke growing tense too, her body starting to fidget more and more until she finally yells out, “Shut up!”

But Sheidheda doesn't shut up, he just keeps singing without a care in the world. Clarke looks at you with worry and frustration, her eyes wide, her nerves frazzled. “We did all that just to end up back here, locked up in a cell next to Sheidheda.”

“We'll get Madi back.” You don’t say anything beyond that, your anger at her now back in full force now that you’re back in Bardo, but you do let out a sigh, frustrated that your emotions are so all over the place. You wonder what Anders would say about you now, watching you pace the room like a caged animal, angry and frustrated and ready to destroy Bardo if you have to.

You’re pulled back to the present by Clarke sighing loudly, looking doubtful about your assurance of finding Madi, which Octavia notices. She puts a hand on Clarke’s knee, whose gaze shifts over to the younger Blake. “Think about it: someone brought us here. That means we have help on the inside, it's just a matter of time.”

Clarke nods, contemplating her words, realizing the truth to them, and she’s quiet for a moment before whispering, “Thank you.”

Something about her tone makes you pause, and you stop in front of her as Clarke’s gaze shifts between you and Octavia. “Both of you. Thank you for offering to come.”

Octavia answers first, “I told you I get it now, what she means to you. It's what Hope means to me.”

“It's what we meant to Bellamy.” Clarke and Octavia look towards you, the mood dampening the way it does when you all remember that Bellamy is gone, for real this time. You’re surprised you even said it, and you have to fight against the tears that are threatening to rise, glancing between the two women you call sister. “We were everything to him.”

Octavia whispers, “That's how I'll remember him.”

Clarke reaches out to grab your hand and you let her, before she reaches for Octavia’s hand too, the three of you sitting together as a small human chain, mourning the loss of Bellamy. And as the three of you mourn, tears streaming down your faces, the door to your cell opens. Clarke and Octavia stand beside you and turn to see Levitt hovering near the entrance, smiling at Octavia. She moves towards him, and as the pair hugs, you get a flash of disappointment. Part of you hoped that it would be Bellamy here to save you, despite seeing his body bleeding out on the palace floor in Sanctum. Something you remind yourself of as Clarke mutters, “Hate to interrupt, but we need to get to Madi. What’s the plan?”

Levitt and Octavia pull apart, and he looks between the three of you, growing anxious. “I don't know. Isn't this your guys' specialty? How would you do it?”

Octavia thinks for a second and then says, “Use the suits, go invisible.”

“No, that won't work. Too many disciples with helmets around.”

Clarke shrugs, “Then we come in hot, and we take them all out.”

You shake your head, instantly disagreeing. If the disciples are preparing for a war, then Clarke’s right. Madi is in danger now. You have no doubt that you, Clarke, and Octavia could come in and take the disciples out with ease, but how long will that give you? Five minutes? Ten? It’s loud and it’s messy, and it’ll put a target on your backs. You need a distraction, something to pull the disciples away from M-Cap, giving the four of you time to find Madi and get her to safety. You search your brain for a different plan, struggling to come up with anything, thanks to Sheidheda’s obnoxious singing.

And that’s when it comes to you.

You look between the three of them, smiling, pointing to the room next door. “Or we create a distraction.”

Realization passes over each of their faces, and you know you’re all on the same page. “Good idea.”

Levitt heads to the door of your cell and reaches for a bag that he left behind, tossing each of you a gun before leading you from your room and to the next cell over. He quickly pulls the door scanner from the wall, attaching a few wires to a tablet from his bag and typing in a code. He removes the tablet and tucks it away before reattaching the scanner and pushing the button. The door to Sheidheda’s cell slides open, and you, Clarke, and Octavia go in weapons hot, aiming directly at the man in the room. He stops singing when he hears your entrance, turning slowly to look at the three of you glaring in anger, Levitt waiting just behind you. “Well, since no one's shooting, I suppose that means you need me.”

He laughs a little and stands to his feet, musing, “What would Madi think?”

Clarke lowers her gun and lunges at him, intending to hit him, but you reach out and grab her arm to stop her. “Clarke!”

Sheidheda laughs, looking you over, taking in your bandages and the blood that’s still on your face, a mix of Gabriel’s and your own. “I got the doctor good, didn't I? Tell me, did he make it?”

And this time, it’s your turn to lunge, dropping Clarke’s arm and reaching for the man, seeing only red, your anger raw with grief. But Octavia grabs you, pulling you back, yelling out, “That’s enough, all of you! We need to stop Cadogan.”

You take a breath, calming yourself, aware that you need the man in front of you to save your niece and stop Cadogan from winning. Which means, for now, you’ll play alongside him. But if he makes it out of here and you get the chance, you’ll kill him for what he did to Gabriel and Madi.

Sheidheda shrugs at Octavia’s words, growling a little, “I tried, and for my troubles, they locked me up here.”

Clarke doesn't care, blowing past his complaint to snap, “Here's the deal. I'd love to kill you, but you're right, we need you. We set you loose, and you draw the disciples away from M-Cap.”

“I'm not some petty distraction. I'm the high king of Sanctum.”

You roll your eyes, “Okay, Your Highness. Then we walk out of here and lock the door behind us.”

He sneers at you, giving you an annoyed smile. “Hmm, distraction it is.”

You motion towards the door with your gun. “Then let’s go.”

Levitt leads the way to M-Cap, the rest of you keeping your guns trained on Sheidheda, but you stop when you reach the last few hallways to your destination. You can hear people nearby, likely standing guard or prepping for the war, and you motion towards Sheidheda as you all duck out of sight. He smiles before he steps away, and you can hear the moment he catches sight of the disciples. “Attention, sheep. I'm here to kill your Shepherd.”

You can hear one of the guards yelling commands, followed immediately by the sounds of fighting. Gunshots ring out in the air, accented by screams of pain, but you all stay hidden in a nearby corridor until the sounds grow fainter and fainter, Sheidheda clearing the halls ahead of you. Once you hear no more fighting, you tentatively slip from your hiding spot and walk down the hall, rounding the corner to find blood splashed along the walls and dead bodies scattered everywhere. You shake your head at the violent scene in front of you, thinking that surely Sheidheda didn’t need to be so brutal. Still, he got the job done, because there’s no one in sight to stop your approach.

Unfortunately, there is also no sign of Sheidheda. “He's not here?”

Clarke turns to look back at Octavia. “We knew that was a possibility, we'll deal with Sheidheda later.”

Levitt looks around at the bodies littering the floor, carefully stepping around dark red puddles of blood, his voice horrified when he whispers, “I grew up with these people.”

“That's war, Levitt.” Octavia turns to glance at him, offering him no sympathy for the horror he’s experiencing. “It looks exciting in hologram mode, but this is the reality.”

Clarke shakes her head, grabbing a few grenades as she walks past the bodies, barely glancing back at the couple as she continues on her way. “Come on. Right now, all that matters is getting to Madi.”

You all follow her down the halls towards M-Cap, your guns raised, ready for a fight with each new hallway you turn down. But you find no one, this section of Bardo completely empty, everyone gone in pursuit of Sheidheda. “Looks like our diversion worked.”

As you reach the door to M-Cap, Clarke nods towards it. “Levitt, you go in first. They won't see you as a threat.”

He nods, and Octavia quickly pushes the button to the room, and as the door slides open, you all get into position and step inside behind Levitt. The first thing you notice is that someone is humming, the tune comforting and familiar. The second thing you notice is Madi, sprawled out in the M-Cap chair, someone’s arms around her. And when that someone looks up, you swear you’re dreaming.

Because it looks like Bellamy.

“Bellamy?” You freeze in place, the gun in your hand clattering to the floor as you stare at him in shock. He looks up at all of you, his expression surprised, clearly not expecting to see you here. He’s out of the white robes and into a white top and bottom combo, the same thing that Gabriel used to wear, and you’re relieved to see no blood on his clothes. He looks a little tired, and his curly hair is unruly, flopped all over the place, but he looks fine. Healthy even, no sign that he was recently dead.

Clarke seemingly breezes past the fact that Bellamy is alive and well, her gaze solely focused on Madi, and he releases his hold on her to allow Clarke the room to take over. He stands, looking at you closely, his expression blank for a moment, and you worry that he’s even more brainwashed than the last time you saw him. But then his expression morphs into one of relief, and he steps around the M-Cap chair to walk towards you. “La lune.”

His voice is warm and thick with affection and emotion, and you start to run towards him, tears welling up in your eyes as he jogs towards you. He meets you halfway across the room, scooping you up in his arms and spinning you once, before putting your feet firmly back on the ground, his arms holding you tight. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck, and you can hear him crying as he whispers, “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I should have never betrayed you. I should’ve listened to you.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You pull away to look at him, tears running down his face and your own, and you whisper, “I love you. Oh my god, I love you, and I'm sorry I left you. I didn't want to, but-”

He cuts you off, “No, you were right to leave me. And you were right about Cadogan.”

It’s like the words remind him of something, and he turns to look at the others. “Levitt, something is wrong with Madi. Cadogan did something to her.”

You all turn to look at him in shock. “What?”

Levitt immediately crosses the room to grab the glasses that the disciples use for M-Cap, and for the first time since grabbing her, Clarke pulls away from Madi, realizing that Bellamy’s right, something is wrong with her. You miss the reunion between the Blake siblings as you rush over to your niece, though you can hear them quietly talking behind you. You look down at Madi in horror, catching onto what Bellamy meant. Madi’s eyes are open, but her expression and her eyes are blank, no sign of recognition in either of them. Her heartbeat is strong, but her body is limp, moving only when one of you moves her.

Clarke looks at you with tears in her eyes, and you feel tears in your own, both of you starting to cry as Clarke turns her teary expression back to Madi. “Madi, look at me. Say something. Please say something.”

Madi remains frozen, and Clarke lets out a panicked yell, “Say something!”

But still, Madi doesn't move, and Clarke pulls her into her arms, holding her tight as she sobs, rocking her back and forth, “Oh, my baby. My baby. My baby.”

You start to cry harder, not wanting to hear or see Clarke’s heartbreak, not wanting to see Madi’s blank expression, but you can't look away. You don't look away when you feel Bellamy slide up beside you, slipping his hand into your own, you don't look away when you hear Octavia and Levitt talking quietly behind you. You keep your eyes on your little sun and your shining star, unable to do anything other than cry at the scene before you.

Clarke lays Madi back down, before turning her teary face back to you, her eyes landing on Bellamy in the process. You see surprise pass over her face, meaning she really didn't register his presence when you all stepped into the room. But her surprise turns to anger as she glares at him, “What happened? What did he do to her?”

Bellamy shakes his head, looking just as upset as the rest of you, tears streaming down his face too. “I don’t know. When I heard she was here, I came looking for her immediately. She was like this when I found her. Cadogan was already gone.”

“You said you’d keep her safe!”

Bellamy stutters a little, his voice thick with emotion. “I tried, Clarke, but I woke up in a hospital bed. I left as soon as I heard she was here, but it must have been hours after her arrival by that point.”

Clarke’s expression turns horrified as she takes in the weight of his words. He got to her as soon as he could to try to help her. But the reason it took him so long to reach her is because he was in a hospital bed. Put there by Clarke. You reach out for her, squeezing her shoulder to stop her train of thought. “Hey, hey, hey, this is not your fault. This is Cadogan’s fault.”

Bellamy whispers, “You couldn't have known.”

And though he doesn't outright say it, you know that his words are forgiveness. Bellamy offers his forgiveness to Clarke for shooting him, her anguish over Madi punishment enough. He offers her the olive branch, and it’s up to her to take it. Thankfully, she does, looking at Bellamy with genuine regret. “I shouldn't have shot you, Bellamy. I panicked, and didn't know what to do.”

“No, you were right to. I don't blame you for shooting me, it was part of a wake up call for me. La lune giving me back her ring, you shooting me, finding Madi like this, they all woke me up to the truth about Cadogan: he’s a monster. A psychopath obsessed with being worshipped, just like he was on Earth.”

And everything is simultaneously okay and not okay, because the confession is big, but none of you get the time to respond to it, because Octavia steps up beside Clarke, looking between all of you. “She can hear you. She knows you're here.”

Clarke nods and turns back towards Madi, trying to hide her tears as she smiles. “Hey, baby, I'm here. I'm right here.”

You lean down into Madi’s line of sight, doing the same to mask your hurt as you whisper, “Hey there, little sun. Ani’s here too.”

Clarke turns to face Levitt, who’s still standing off to the side. “Is it recoverable?”

“What? I-” The question catches him off guard, not sure if he should answer, but after a second, he solemnly shakes his head. “No. The areas of her brain responsible for voluntary movement have been destroyed. I'm sorry.”

The words make all of you start to cry harder, now faced with the reality that Cadogan has paralyzed Madi permanently in the pursuit of transcendence. It's enough to make you sick to your stomach. But that feeling only intensifies as Clarke glances off to the side, where her discarded pistol now lays, and after a moment of thought, she leans down to get it. You know exactly what she’s thinking because you know her better than she knows herself, and you shake your head, your voice soft and firm. “Clarke, no.”

She starts to cry harder, her hands shakily lifting the gun, determined to do what she thinks is right for Madi. But the sight breaks your heart, as Clarke can barely hold the gun steady, too overcome with emotion. Your twin that has bore it so the rest of you don't have to is breaking, and you know you need to be there for her. Which is why you drop Bellamy’s hand and reach out for the gun. “I’ll do it.”

She looks at you, expression heartbroken but hopeful, and you whisper, “I'm not letting you live with this.”

She nods a little, passing you the gun, which you take with now shaky hands. Clarke reaches out for Madi, putting a hand on either side of her face as she whispers, “I love you so much. Don't be scared, just listen to my voice, okay?”

And just like Bellamy was doing before all of you arrived, she starts to hum Clair de lune, ducking her head beside Madi’s so she can't see her tears. You lift the gun with a shaky hand, your own tears blurring your vision, aiming the pistol at her chest. But as you stare down at the blank expression of your little sun, you don't think you can do it, the burden too great for any of you to bear. You start to cry harder, a sob escaping from your chest, and Clarke looks over at you, nodding a little, letting you know that it’s okay, it’s time.

But you can’t. You stare down at Madi’s face, reminded of the girl that couldn't speak English when you met her, who caught Clarke with a bear trap. The little girl you taught how to drive, how to fight. The girl who inspired an army to fight for Shallow Valley. You shake your head a little, unable to do it, your hand starting to lower again. But then Bellamy reaches out and closes his hand over your own. You look back at him, and he looks at you, tears falling down his face as he whispers, “Together.”

You nod, and the two of you turn to face Madi, lifting the gun to aim right over her heart. And as your finger lifts to the trigger, Bellamy’s finger poised over your own, ready to help you, you whisper, “I love you, little sun.”

But before the two of you can pull the trigger, Levitt suddenly calls out, “No, he got the code!”

You pause and you all turn towards him in shock, and he catches sight of the gun in your hand, suddenly apologetic. “Oh, God. Oh, I'm sorry.”

Octavia asks, “The test code? Are you sure?”

“Hologram mode.”

He enlarges the memory so you can all see, watching as Becca’s fingers press the symbols on the Anomaly Stone, the room glowing in white before the memory ends. Clarke shifts her gaze from the memory down to Madi, her heartbreak giving way to hard anger. “He got what he needed and left her here?”

The words hit all of you right in the chest. This man that is so determined to transcend, to prove that humans are worthy, paralyzed a child to do it, and then left her alone. Bellamy was right when he called Cadogan a monster, and you can feel Wanlida smiling as she steps into view. “We have to stop him.”

Octavia starts, “If one man represents the entire human race-”

Bellamy finishes, “It can't be him.”

Levitt nods, looking between all of you. “We can still stop him, but we have to go now.”

Everyone seems to silently agree, and you and Clarke turn back to Madi. Clarke puts her hand on Madi’s cheek, and you reach out to squeeze Madi’s hand. Clarke whispers, “I'll come back. I'll be back after we stop the test, and I promise I will not let him win.”

She presses a kiss to Madi’s forehead, and leans back so you can add, “We’re going to stop him, Madi, and we’re going to fix this. I promise. Bill Cadogan thinks he’s unstoppable, but he’s never met Wanheda and Wanlida.”

next chapter

#the 100 #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction

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writingwithacupoftea · 4 years

Text

Quiet

Summary: Following Grace’s death, Tommy shuts himself off from the rest of the world, dealing with all of the noise in his head alone. But Y/N Shelby will be damned if she doesn’t try to help her brother...

Word Count: 3158

A/N: This has unexpectedly become my 200 follower celebration fic, so thank you again!! I was getting my doctor-prescribed daily dose of Cillian Murphy the other day watching his video about the rise of Tommy Shelby, and the part where he talks about Tommy being burdened by his intelligence for some reason made me think of Matilda. So, the song ‘Quiet’ from Matilda the Musical (which I love btw, I’m a massive musical theatre nerd) became the inspiration for this fic. Hope you enjoy it!!

Y/N Shelby was always a source of amazement to the rest of her family. Being the second youngest of the Shelby clan, it had come as a shock to her three elder brothers that she could be quite as ruthless as them when it came to business and enemies who threatened her family. However, it wasn't just that which truly surprised them: it was the fact that she still managed to retain her heart of gold. This was largely reserved for her family and, despite the violence and atrocities committed by them in front of her very eyes, she loved them unconditionally (even if they were a pain in the arse sometimes).

When Tommy bought Arrow House, he also acquired the little cottage on the estate. Knowing that Y/N was getting restless at the prospect of still living with her family as she approached her twenties, Tommy had given the place to her to do with as she wished. This arrangement pleased both siblings immensely. Tommy and Y/N had always had an incredibly close relationship, despite the large age gap, and the cottage's location meant that Y/N got the independence that she so desperately wanted, whilst also being close enough for them to see each other as often as they wished.

(As well as this, it gave Tommy peace of mind that the only way to access the cottage was to cross the grounds which lay in front of Arrow House. This meant that any enemies would have to go past the blinders stationed in front of his house, then through Tommy himself, and finally deal with the blinders outside of Y/N's cottage in order to get to her. Oh, and he always knew when she dared to bring a boy back with her.)

Everything was going perfectly, and Tommy and Y/N were, for once, happy with their lives.

And then Grace died.

For two weeks after the funeral, Tommy spent most of his time riding around the estate, thinking by himself. He didn't want to see anyone apart from his son. Sometimes, depending on where he stopped at night, Y/N could see her brother at a distance from her living room. She longed to run to him, not to tell him that she was sorry and offer her condolences because she knew he'd be sick of that already. Y/N just wanted Tommy to know that he didn't have to fight every battle alone.

Then, out of the blue, there came a point when he stopped doing that. Instead, Tommy chose to throw himself into his work, providing a different type of isolation. He barely left the house, locking himself away in his office, and when he did go out on business he hardly told a soul. According to Mary (who secretly phoned Y/N every week to let her know how Tommy was doing) he seemed lifeless now, as if he were the one that died, not his wife. Her employer was even quieter than he usually was, and Y/N knew that that was when his brain got the loudest.

Y/N refused to sit by and let him destroy himself for any longer...and she knew just the trick to bring her brother back to life.

***

The phone on Tommy's desk seemed to ring even louder than usual, adding to his pounding headache. He hadn't left the house in three days, not that he'd noticed it, and was more on-edge than ever. With a sigh, he picked up the receiver.

"Tom?" Despite the million thoughts that clogged up his brain, he couldn't help the flicker of a smile that passed over his face upon hearing his little sister's light voice, something he'd gotten so used to when she'd lived with him. But that calm didn't last long before his brain went into overdrive again.

"You alright?" He had tried his best to keep any tones of alarm and worry at bay, but knew that he had failed when his voice faltered on the last word.

"I'm fine, I just need to you pop over and help me move a bookcase."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Tommy replied steadily, "Y/N, I'm waiting on about three different phone calls and I have a business to run. Why don't you ask -" He paused, looking at the list in front of him, "Ben or Harry to help you, eh?" (They were in charge of guarding Y/N's house during the daytime this week, according to the rota.)

"I mean I would do, but I've given them the weekend off, and quite frankly you're the closest other person, Tom."

The man in question froze. "You've sent Ben and Harry away?"

"Yes."

"For an entire weekend?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't tell me about it?"

"That's about the size of it, yeah."

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at Y/N?" Tommy was shouting now, furious that his sister would be this stupid. "I thought you had more sense than this!"

"Actually, Thomas, I think in this case I've got more sense than you. They've been outside this house for two, nearly three, weeks now because you haven't stood them down and you won't let me do it myself. How do you expect them to do their job properly if they're dead on their feet?"

Tommy fell silent, his heart beating at a mile a minute, worry taking over from his anger. What if someone took advantage of this moment? What if they used this opportunity to take his sister from him, like they took his wife? He was terrified, and the worst part was that it would be entirely his fault: he should never have let this fuck up happen, he should've kept a closer eye on his sister. Y/N lived on his grounds, anyone that came for Tommy would inevitably go for her as well.

He didn't even bother to try and conceal the tremor in his voice when he finally spoke again. "Okay, I'm coming over. Do not, I repeat, do not leave your house, alright? Don’t open the door to anyone but me, either. Have you got a gun with you?"

"Tom, you made sure that an entire armoury was installed here before I even set foot in the place, yes I have a gun."

"Good. Keep it with you, make sure it's loaded. I'm on my way."

Tommy hadn't even put the receiver down before he was on his feet, scrambling to get ready. Guilt and worry consuming him, Tommy made another phone call to get some more men stationed outside Arrow House, went up to the nursery and kissed Charlie goodbye, and then told Mary of his plan. Tommy would be staying with his sister until Monday morning – he was taking his sister's safety into his own hands this time.

It was common knowledge that the patriarch of the Shelby family didn't give a toss about religion any more, but as his pace quickened down the drive of Arrow House that Saturday morning, he sent a prayer up to anyone who was listening that he wouldn't be too late.

***

Livid. That's the only way to describe how Tommy felt upon turning the corner to his sister's cottage. For there she was, stood in the open doorway, clearly waiting for him. As he got closer, Tommy noticed that Y/N was wearing one of his old shirts under her worn grey cardigan, with a gun tucked into the top of her rolled up, oversized trousers. She also had a gentle smile on her face, the one that was reserved only for her family members.

Shaking a stern finger at his sister as he marched over to her, Tommy stated in a dangerous tone "I told you to stay indoors."

Y/N's smile moulded into a smirk. "Yeah, and I told you that Ben and Harry had the weekend off, not that there was no one guarding the house. Eddie and Will took their place last night."

Tommy ran a hand through his hair, whether out of relief or frustration, neither of the siblings knew. "You are in so much trouble." His tone was far from teasing, and anyone else would be quaking at the knees. But not Y/N.

"I thought I would be, but you can shout at me as we walk." Y/N grabbed a large basket from inside the door before locking it. "Come on!"

"You're not going fucking anywhere until -"

"You know, Thomas, the further away I get the less I'll be able to hear of you telling me off." Y/N hadn't even turned around or stopped to say it, she just kept walking.

"For fuck's sake," Tommy muttered angrily under his breath and then started moving to try and catch up with her.

***

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for making you panic so much." Tommy had only just caught up to Y/N, and had opened his mouth to continue speaking when she cut him off. "I knew you wouldn't leave the house unless I made you think that I was in danger. You were always too good of a big brother to risk that."

Tommy was rendered speechless by her words. He had neglected her for over a month, barely speaking to her and never visiting – how could she still claim that he was a good brother?

As if she could hear his thoughts, Y/N continued to speak. "You're grieving, Tom. I didn't expect anything from you, no matter how much I wanted to see you. Although you haven't been checking that the blinders change over, that part of my call was true. But I've been taking care of it, so I've been safe the entire time. Don't go blaming yourself for anything else."

"We thought that Grace was safe." That was the first thing that Tommy had said in minutes, and his anger at being lured into his sister's trap lay forgotten for the time being. Y/N simply placed her free hand into the crook of Tommy's arm and squeezed it.

"You probably think I'm so selfish for doing this, but I promise I'm not just doing it for me." She paused, almost reluctant to put her next question out into the open. "Everything's getting loud again, isn't it?"

Tommy stared at the ground as they kept walking further and further away from either of their houses, wordlessly confirming her suspicions. He let out a small chuckle. "You always know, don't you, sweetheart? For someone so young, you don't miss much."

Y/N breathed out a laugh. "When you grow up with John and his bloody booby traps all over the house, you do tend to notice everything and more."

That was enough to bring out the first proper smile that Tommy had produced since his wife's death. He had forgotten what a tonic his sister could be – just her presence and gentle voice was enough to soothe him and ease some of his pain. Tommy brought his free hand up to rest on top of her small one, still nestled into the crook of his arm, and she responded by leaning her head against his shoulder contentedly.

They continued to walk in silence before Tommy realised that, for once, he had no clue what they were doing. When he asked, his sister's answer made him stop in his tracks.

"Nothing?"

"Yep." Y/N smiled at him proudly. "Absolutely nothing."

"Y/N, I don’t have time to -"

"Everyone has the time to do nothing, Tommy, even you." Her brother sighed in defeat, knowing that there was no point in starting an argument over it (the look that Y/N was giving him was enough to tell him that he'd lost it before it had even begun).

"Alright, fine. But how am I supposed to do nothing and clear my head at the same time, eh?" His tone boarded on impatient.

"You'll figure it out soon enough." Y/N responded, calmly.

***

She was right, of course. They had laid down the blankets that had been tucked away in Y/N's basket and for a while they simply watched the clouds dancing across the sky, bringing back fond memories for Tommy: he had done this countless times with his mother before she passed, and afterwards he used to take a much younger Y/N out to do the same before the war took over. Tommy let the rustling of the wind in the trees and the singing of the birds melt away the endless stream of thoughts in his head. His sister had also been clever enough to bring them so far out into the Warwickshire countryside that he knew that no-one would find them, causing a feeling of safety and freedom to wash over him for the first time in years.

Tommy reached over and held Y/N's hand in his, and whispered "Thank you, bug," just loudly enough for her to hear.

Y/N turned her head to smile at him and squeezed his hand. But then she frowned at her brother, causing him to mirror her expression. "Tom, you've got some grey hairs coming. Seriously, I can see them now, just at the side."

His lips parted in shock as her expression turned into one of mirth. "You cheeky fucker." Tommy's tone was deadly serious; however, Y/N knew her brother well enough to know what was coming next. She just managed to roll out of the way before Tommy's hand reached out to tickle her stomach.

Before they both knew it, Y/N was running like her life depended on it and Tommy was following in hot pursuit, uncontrollable laughter bubbling out from both of them.

***

A few hours later and night had fallen. Tommy had built a fire some time ago, and Y/N was sat by it, reading. He realised that, whilst the scene wasn't too dissimilar to the one he created every night in the weeks following Grace's funeral, it was also entirely different. Before, he had only focused on the thoughts constantly whizzing around in his brain, not noticing anything else going on around him.

But now, everything was quiet. Not silent, for that would surely send all of the noise flooding back into his head. The sounds of the pages turning steadily in his sister's book provided that nice sort of quiet which meant that that noise just...stopped. Y/N hadn't actually tried to distract him from his grief or his thoughts, either, or tried to get him to talk about it as so many other people had done; all Y/N did was bring him physically away from everything and been there, a strong presence without pressure. For that, he loved her more than ever.

Tommy looked up as Y/N released a long sigh, having just finished her last chapter. He noticed her shiver slightly when a cool breeze brushed over the field, and fished another blanket out of the basket as she walked over to sit next to him. Tommy wrapped the soft material tightly around her and placed his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for a one-armed hug.

Breaking the silence, Y/N looked up and said "The stars are so much brighter out here than in Small Heath."

Tommy hummed in agreement. "When you were little and we were on the road with mum, I used to point out all the different constellations to you."

"I don't remember that."

"Well, you were always about half asleep."

"Do you still remember them?"

"I do."

"Would you show me them again?"

The question was asked with such innocence that Tommy glanced down at his sister, and saw her bright blue eyes staring back up at him, eyes that had him wrapped around her little finger. He laid down, patting the space next to him, encouraging her to do the same. "Let's have a look then, shall we?"

He was rewarded with a big, beaming smile.

***

When Y/N started to yawn and her eyelids began to droop, lulled by the warmth and her brother's steady voice, Tommy decided that it was time for them to head back. He bundled everything back into the basket bar one blanket, which he layered on top of the other one covering his sister once they started walking away from the dying fire (despite Y/N's apparent annoyance at his fussing).

Tommy was still set on staying in his sister's spare room for the weekend, wanting to make up for lost time. Part of him also still worried that she would be taken away from him, and knew that there wasn't much chance of him sleeping if he returned to his own bed. After all that she had done for him today, Tommy couldn't bear to leave her just yet.

He carried the basket in one hand, and Y/N had wrapped both of her arms around his other arm, revelling in the chance to be so close to her brother again, and not just physically. Y/N wasn't naïve in her view of Tommy: he was cold, brutal, rude and relentless, and she knew that. But she had also never wavered in her belief that parts of the Tommy that she knew before the war were still there; they were simply buried deep within, so much so that it was slowly becoming more and more difficult to bring them to the surface.

However, looking up and noting the absence of a crease between Tommy's brows, she couldn't help but feel that she could afford herself a small victory this time.

"I'm always here for you, Tom," Y/N mumbled, seemingly out of the blue. "When you need some quiet, and remember that I always know when you do, I'll never get bored of things like this."

Tommy was silent, and Y/N wondered if she'd ruined it and pushed it too far. But then she heard him clear his throat and quietly reply "That sounds perfect, sweetheart," and her worries washed away in an instant.

***

As the siblings stepped over the threshold of the cottage, exhaustion hit both of them. Y/N headed to the kitchen and Tommy made his way towards the living room. Upon his arrival, however, he stopped in the doorway and simply stared in...

"Y/N?" He called, confusion seeping into his voice.

The woman in question appeared behind him, and peered over her brother's shoulder at the bookcase abandoned in the middle of the room. "Fuck, I'd forgotten about that. Well, you can move it out of the way while I make tea – it's what I called you here to do anyway." Y/N began to wander back towards the kitchen, ignoring the befuddled, yet amused, expression on her brother's face. "Thanks Tom, love you!"

"Love you too, darling," Tommy murmured, not loud enough for her to hear, a full and genuine smile gracing his features.

Yep, he thought, his sister was definitely one of a kind, but he wouldn't change her for the world; and no matter what else he did, he refused to fail Y/N again.

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #shelby sister #shelby sis #shelby!sister #shelby!reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders sister #peaky blinders x sister!reader #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby x sister reader #tommy shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine

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bex-la-get · 3 years

Text

This Unpredictable World (Adam x f!Detective)

Book: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Pairing: Adam du Mortain x Alma Cunningham

Word count: 2808

Summary: “We’ve spent so long trying to protect her from our world, that we never once thought about protecting her from her own.” Adam grapples with the dangers of the human world when Alma is in an accident.

Author’s Note: So, I threw my back out last week (always warm up before working out kids; it’s not worth the injury) and I thought “Ooh, how would UB react if the detective was injured?” And this was supposed to be fluffy, I swear... but then it wasn’t and here we are. Sorry? 😅

TW: Car accident, drunk driving, mentions of blood and injury.

Laughter. That was the sound he missed most.

Alma’s laugh had always been infectious. From the moment he met her, her laughter had drawn him in like a moth to a flame. He had resisted it, at first; fighting the urge to say things that might have elicited that laughter from her. But as time went on, he began to give in. He began to relish the sound of her laugh. The one that made her throw her head back and close her eyes as she reveled in the thing bringing her joy. The one that made his heart skip a beat every time he heard it.

Now, he’d give anything to hear it again. To see that bright smile of hers and watch as her face lit up; to hear her laugh that always reminded him of windchimes echoing throughout the sky. All he wanted was to hear that laugh, to see her smile. If he could just have that, then he knew everything would be okay...

Instead, Adam was stuck staring at the walls of the facility common room, desperately waiting to hear something, anything. The lack of answers was slowly killing him. He needed to know she’d make it out of this. That she was going to live.

Alma had been in a car accident; a bad one. She had been hit by a drunk driver causing her to skid off the road and crash into some nearby trees. She’d sustained some serious head trauma, several broken ribs, and internal bleeding in her lower abdomen. She had lost consciousness almost immediately but not before quickly calling her mother stating she was in trouble.

The Agency had moved fast; faster than normal emergency services would have been able to. One word from Agent Cunningham and several medical units were on their way to the crash site, Rebecca hot on their tail. Unit Bravo, having walked into the chaos that was surrounding the facility, barely had any idea of what was going on until Nate heard someone mention Alma’s name in the same sentence as “car crash.”

Adam’s world had come to a standstill at the news, his heart pounding so hard, he thought it might burst. When he met Nate’s eyes, his old friend nodded once and the four vampires piled into the car, following the medical units to where Alma was. “We don’t know how bad it is, Adam,” Nate had said, attempting to soothe Adam’s nerves. “She could be completely fine for all we know.”

Adam had nodded, but he wasn’t convinced.

When they had arrived at the crash site, his stomach dropped. Alma’s car was crushed in on several sides, smoke emitting from the hood. He couldn’t see her but he could hear the medics attempting to talk to her as they wriggled the door open. He didn’t hear her respond to them.

With a grunt, the medics opened the battered car door and Adam had watched in horror as Alma’s body slumped, nearly falling out of the vehicle. The medics converged over her blocking his view and he moved to get closer. He had to see her up close, he had to know she was okay.

A hand on his shoulder had stopped him and he turned to find Mason looking at him, a look of distress on his face. “Adam, don’t; her blood’s too strong. I can smell it all the way over here.”

Adam looked back at Alma, now being moved onto a gurney, and realized how bloodied she was. He could smell her now too; the smell of her mutated blood reaching him even as he stood yards away. He turned around and took a few steps farther away in an attempt to get away from the overwhelming scent of her. He needed to keep a clear head and, as much as it pained him, the farther away he was from her at the moment, the easier that would be.

The sound of footsteps gained their attention and they turned to find Agent Cunningham walking towards them, her face sullen and pale. “Agent Cunningham,” Nate had said, “we came as soon as we heard. Is Alma going to be alright?”

Rebecca gave them a sad smile. “Thank you for coming; to answer your question, I don’t know. They’re going to rush her back to the facility and assess her injuries there. She might need surgery. I don’t know much beyond that right now.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Felix asked, his usual cheery demeanor replaced with worry.

Rebecca shook her head. “Thank you, but no. Unfortunately, all we can do right now is wait.”

And wait they would. After Alma had been rushed to the facility and the intoxicated driver taken into custody-- their injuries far less severe and life-threatening-- Unit Bravo returned to the facility, the air around them heavy as they waited for an update on their detective. Some time after their return, Agent Cunningham entered the room notifying the vampires that, as of right now, Alma would not need surgery, much to everyone’s relief. But she wasn’t out of the woods yet. “The doctors are keeping her under close monitoring for the next twenty-four hours; they think the internal bleeding will stop on its own but if it doesn’t, they’re going to take her into emergency surgery. Same with her head injury.”

“When is she expected to wake up?” Adam asked.

Rebecca shrugged, the gesture taking more effort than normal. “I don’t know; she’s currently under a lot of medication. She could be out for a few hours or a day.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a ragged breath. “I’m sorry, I wish I had more information.” It was unclear if she was speaking to Unit Bravo or herself.

Nate stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You have nothing to apologize for; we understand how difficult this must be for you.”

She looked at Nate sadly and nodded. “Thank you.” Her phone chirruped and she moved to exit, muttering a small “Excuse me,” as she left. Unit Bravo looked at each other, the same looks on all of their faces. Worry. Distress. Anxious.

Adam was the first to break away from the group, moving to a nearby sofa and dropping onto it heavily. He pulled a small photo-- the one he and Alma had taken when undercover at the carnival-- from his pocket and stared at it, his fingers running over the image of her. It had just been for show, he had told himself at the time; but the way she stared at him in this photo told him otherwise. It had never been for show for her.

And, if he was honest, it had never been for show for him either.

“Are you alright?” a familiar voice asked from next to him. He hadn’t even noticed Nate had sat down with him.

Adam closed his eyes and folded the photo closed. “No.”

Nate rested a hand on his shoulder and Adam looked at him. “We have to believe she’s going to be okay, Adam. Entertaining any alternative isn’t going to help anyone.”

Adam dropped his shoulders. “I know.”

“But?”

Adam reopened the photo and looked down at it sadly. “We’ve spent so long trying to protect her from our world,” he began, “that we never once thought about protecting her from her own.”

“No one could have predicted this, Adam,” Nate reasoned. “Try as we might, we can’t protect her from everything.”

“It’s our job to protect her from everything,” Adam argued. “I-- we should have been there, with her. We could have--”

Nate tightened his hold on Adam’s shoulder. “It was an accident, Adam. A preventable one, yes, but an accident nonetheless. We’re not seers; we can’t predict what’s going to happen every time we walk out the front door. You can’t beat yourself up over that.” Adam sighed and said nothing but Nate knew he had heard him. He squeezed his shoulder once more then stood up. “She’s in the best care possible; and she’s strong. She’ll pull through.”

As Nate walked away, Adam returned his attention to the small photo, once again tracing Alma’s image. “She’ll pull through,” he repeated, in a whisper. “She has to.”

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

Twenty-four hours passed slowly. And with very little update.

Rebecca had been allowed into the room around the eight-hour mark and Unit Bravo had been allowed in a few hours later. If Adam had thought seeing the detective would ease his nerves, he had been wrong. Her blood had been long cleaned off and any open wounds had been cleaned and stitched but she still looked so small. So fragile.

Alma laid unconscious on the hospital bed, her arms and face covered with bruises and scratches. There was an IV attached to one arm while the heart monitor beeped consistently in the corner; not that it was necessary. Adam had been listening for her heartbeat ever since they had returned to the facility. He was reassured that it remained as steady and strong as always. Still, the current sight of her made his heart ache.

He watched the rise and fall of her chest, her breathing steady, then looked over her face, eyes relaxed in sleep. He hoped she was having a good dream; she had mentioned once that she still had nightmares of Murphy. The idea that that monster still haunts her made Adam’s fists clench; he hoped, above all else, that she wasn’t dreaming of him at this time. May she never dream of him ever again.

As the hours ticked on, Unit Bravo began to retire to their rooms, after reassurances from the doctors that Alma wasn’t likely to wake until tomorrow. Even Rebecca eventually retired, emotionally drained from the day. Eventually, the only person to remain in the room was Adam.

When he was alone, Adam moved from his place in the corner to a nearby chair. He dragged it over until it was right next to Alma’s bedside and took a seat. For a long moment, he sat in silence, listening to the sound of Alma’s heartbeat and the quiet sounds of her breathing. Then, he reached for her hand and took it in both of his, his fingers resting on the pulse point on her wrist. It was one thing to hear it, but upon feeling her heartbeat, his shoulders dropped from their tense position and he released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Come back, Alma,” he said, quietly. He was positive she couldn’t hear him but he still felt the need to say something. Anything, really. He just… needed to talk to her. “Come back to me. Please.” He clasped her hand in his and he placed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “We need you. I need you. Please.”

The night passed slowly, the hours feeling more like days. With the exception of the occasional check-up from Elidor, Adam remained Alma’s only visitor for the entirety of the night, his hand never leaving hers. He would occasionally talk to her, sharing mindless thoughts with her, ranging from a book he had recently read to Felix’s recent antics with Mason’s laundry. He had hoped that by talking to her, she might be able to hear him and know he was there. That he would always be there.

It was nearing sunrise now; the early hours were quiet and undisturbed. Adam’s hand still held Alma’s tightly as he watched her heart monitor, her heartbeat still strong and steady as it always was. A small smile on his lips, he became so focused on the monitor that he almost missed Alma’s hand tightening around his. Almost.

He looked down at their clasped hands before looking to her face to find her hazel eyes fluttering open. He sucked in a breath as her eyes adjusted to the bright lights of the hospital room before locking with his. “Adam?”

He released a sound that was a mix between a laugh and a sob and used his free hand to brush some stray strands of hair behind her ear. “Good morning.”

She leaned into his touch. “What happened?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

He frowned. “You were in an accident. You were--” he hesitated to speak his next words-- “you were hit by an intoxicated driver.”

Alma released a breath. “Shit. Are-- are they okay?”

There she went again, worrying about others before herself. Adam fought the urge to shake his head at her kindness; she was too good with people sometimes. “They do not deserve your concern; as far as I care, they’ve been arrested and incarcerated. That is all that matters.”

Alma frowned in disagreement but didn’t argue the point further. Instead, she tightened her grip on his hand. “Where’s everyone else? Mum?”

“They retired for the evening last night. I should alert them that you’re awake.” He began to slide his hand from hers as he shifted out of the chair but she held on tightly.

“Don’t go,” she whispered. “I-- I don’t really wanna be alone.”

His eyes met hers and a small smile settled onto his lips before sinking back into the chair. Instead, he pulled out his phone, sent off a quick text to the rest of Unit Bravo and Agent Cunningham, then returned his attention to Alma. She was studying his face, a thoughtful look on her face.

“What is it?” he asked.

Tentatively, she reached with her free hand and cupped his cheek. He leaned into her touch almost on instinct. “You look tired. Did you sleep?”

He chuckled dryly. “No. I don’t need to sleep, remember?”

“Adam--” she began, the sound of disapproval in her voice.

He shook his head. “I’m alright, Detective,” he told her, quietly. “I-- I didn’t want to miss an update on your condition. I--we were worried about you.”

She brushed her thumb across his cheek. “Thank you for staying.”

He closed his eyes and relished in the feel of her hand on his cheek. He covered her hand with his free one, as if holding it there. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you, Alma,” he said, softly. It was so quiet Alma almost missed it; but she was grateful she hadn’t.

“I’m here now,” she reassured. “And I’m safe. That’s the important thing.”

He nodded. “That it is.”

“Tu omnia,” she whispered.

He smiled. Then, acting off of instinct rather than logic, he removed his cheek from her hand only to turn his face and place a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist, right above her pulse point. Her pulse sped up at his gesture and he placed one more kiss higher up on her palm. “Tu omnia,” he repeated.

Just then, he could hear the sound of several sets of feet rushing their way towards the hospital room and he stood up from the chair, giving Alma’s fingers one last squeeze, then moved away to the corner of the room. Alma gazed at him confused but understanding soon flickered across her features when the door opened and her mother appeared.

“Alma!” Rebecca practically ran to her daughter’s bedside, pulling her into a tight hug as the rest of Unit Bravo trailed in after her. Alma returned her mother’s hug before looking to the rest of Unit Bravo and smiling. Within seconds, Felix and Nate had her wrapped in a bear hug, Mason standing nearby with his signature smirk, making Alma laugh in response.

Adam’s heart skipped a beat. There was that laugh again; the one he had missed so much, the one he had craved to hear when she had been unconscious. Hearing it now was like hearing a beautiful piece of music for the first time after being unable to hear anything; his shoulders released their usual tension and he smiled softly.

“So, no one’s bothered to tell me what happened to my car,” Alma said, looking at her mother.

Rebecca grimaced. “Uh--”

“Your car’s totaled,” Mason interjected. “But on the plus side, the forest now has a nice shiny fender element to it.”

“Mason!” Nate reprimanded.

Alma shook her head, smiling. “I should’ve known.”

“You can use one of the Agency’s vehicles while we find you a replacement,” Rebecca offered.

“Preferably something that doesn’t look like it’ll break upon getting into it,” Mason muttered.

Nate groaned. “Mason!”

Alma laughed again, making Adam’s heart swell at the sound. There were still some loose ends that needed tying up: Alma would still need time to fully recover and the intoxicated driver would need to be taken care of at some point. But for now, she was smiling and laughing and safe. For now, that was all that mattered.

Tag List: @sanguineverefae @little-flowers-on-heaven @mia143 @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst

#bexwritesstuff #the wayhaven chronicles #twc fic #adam du mortain #a du mortain #adam x detective #adam x alma #alma cunningham #f!detective #twc mc

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llendrinall · 3 years

Note

Here's a prompt for you.

Draco and Harry are dating and taking it slow (no one is aware & they started dating after the both of them had begun to go to therapy and heal a bit) and while they've together for a year (now its not somethin that either of them hide but they also dont go out and pronounce anything) they find an orphanage in the muggle world and they hang out with the kids and end up falling inlove with between 1-4 of the kids over time and both the Weasley's and Malfoy's find out about their relationship when they show up with their newly adopted child/ren.

"I thought you knew we were together"

"We thought you were becoming friends Harry!"

Draco saw the kid first. Not that it matters, but Harry claims that it was all his idea when, in truth, Draco saw the kid first and immediately knew what was going to happen. This is Harry, after all. Draco could have distracted Harry, insist they took the other exit of the restaurant, anything. But he did none of that because (don’t tell anyone this) Draco Malfoy might have a heart of his own and he was curious about the kid sitting under a lamppost with a book.

His names is Liam and he was doing homework. There is a lounge in the orphanage where, theoretically, children can do their homework. But the place is very noisy and there are some older kids who pick on Liam. Unless it’s raining heavily, Liam prefers to be outside where he can have some peace. He could go to the library and he usually takes refuge there, but it closes early on Fridays.

They had just had dinner, but they go back to the restaurant so Liam can work at a table where is warm and well lighted. The waitress gets Liam extra bacon in his sandwich and doesn’t charge them for it.

Harry surprises Draco because he doesn’t immediately take Liam with him, even though it’s clear that’s what he wants to do. He does say he would like to visit Roberta Clark’s Children Home and looks softly pleased when Draco says he will go with him.

They have been together for almost a year now, soft and tentative and careful because they both want this and are afraid to ruin it with a false step. They have just started to talk about living arrangements, although in a very vague way. Tonight, however, Draco begins a ruthless campaign against Harry’s house which is well located in London, yes, but it doesn’t have a garden unlike Draco’s house in Virginia Water, and it has one less room than Draco’s (not accounting for the music room), and it’s very dark. Draco can’t imagine children growing up happy here. Poor Sirius. And poor Regulus.

Harry is pissed, which is further proof that he needs Draco in his life because, Morgana, is he easy to read and manipulate.

That Thursday the two of them visit Roberta Clark’s Children Home where they are welcomed by the rudest social worker to ever plague the Earth. The deputy Director isn’t much better. She doesn’t like it when Harry points they have mold on the walls, all twenty-three times.

(This is one of the many reasons Draco loves him. For a hero of the light, Harry is a terror).

Draco walked in there knowing fully well they were going to adopt Liam, hence his campaign for the Virginia Water’s house because no child of his will grow up in Grimmauld Place. Children who grow up in Grimmauld Place become unhappy adults who die before their time. Draco thought that maaaaybe Harry still believed he was only going to show an interest in the institution and hand them money to improve the living conditions; but Draco knew there was no way Harry would leave Liam in there. The kid is eleven! An orphan! Harry can lie to himself all he wants. He will be Liam’s legal father inside a month.

What Draco didn’t expect was to get a child of his own.

Her name is Jamie, JamieTheGirl. There is a boy named Jamie and simply Jamie, not JamieTheBoy, because Jamie is a boy’s name. This is explained to Draco in a rush, with a mixture of pain and bratty attitude that speaks to him directly. JamieTheGirl hates her name, her haircut, the horrible dress she is forced to wear and Mister Gladwell, who is the rude social worker. JamieTheGirl wanted to know if Liam is lying, because Liam said he knew them (them being Draco and Harry) but Liam is eleven and everybody knows that nobody wants kids older than ten. Seven is best. JamietheGirl is nine so she could still be adopted, but she has been informed by multiple sources that nobody will ever want her because a) she has a bad attitude, b) she has a boy’s name and c) she is not cute enough.

“My name is Draco,” is all Draco can say. He is already vowing to hunt down those multiple sources who told Jamie she was less than perfect. “It’s not a bad name but it’s not a good one either.”

JamieTheGirl agrees.

Now that they are going to adopt two children it’s all the more reason to live in the Virginia Water’s house, which has more room and a very nice garden. They can always apparate the kids to their school in London. If Harry refuses to apparate (sometimes Harry exhibits some very weird ideas about magic and luxury) Draco will get a car. Not even a magical car, and actual muggle car. He will buy one and take the kids to school. Actually, they should go tomorrow to check the house and start the arrangements.

Harry stares at Draco. He is sitting on the kitchen counter in his stupid house in Grimmauld Place, eating Chinese food from the box as if he weren’t a filthy rich man, hero of the wizarding world. Draco loves him so much.

“What do you mean adopt?” Harry says.

“Oh, like this was going to go any other way.” Draco says, rolling his eyes. If the place had merely been overcrowded and noisy Harry would have contented himself to play the benefactor role and pay for renovations. But there was mold in twenty-three spots, the social worker made Snape look charming and evidently none of the adults in charge had any idea of what the children were going through and, even worse, what they were getting up to.

Draco knows Harry. It is a mere question of how quickly they can get the paperwork ready.

“I’m still going to do something about the place.” Harry argues, of course he does. He won’t simply take a kid and forget about the rest. But he is already thinking of all the wonderful things he will teach Liam. Draco can see it in his eyes.

They get married two weeks later, for the paperwork, but in essence they got married that night when Draco laid the rest of their lives before them and Harry realized that Draco knew him better than himself and that he still wanted to be with him.

They move to the Virginia Water’s house in early January. Liam can’t believe that he has been adopted, so he takes the fact that they are both wizards in stride. The adoption is much harder to believe than the fact that people can do actual magic. Also, he has his own room. His. With a door that he can close. The fact that he doesn’t have to hide his books so they won’t be stolen takes enough of Liam’s attention that he can’t worry about such unimportant things as magic.

JamieTheGirl is both easier and harder. She is easier because she desperately wanted to be out of the Children’s Home, and harder because she is naturally distrustful and very intelligent. Not to say that Liam is not distrustful or smart, but he is old enough to be jaded. Liam expects something bad to happen and he is willing to take it. He, like Harry, is stupid enough to believe that he can take new abuse if he also gets some comfort in exchange.

(note: Draco is going to piss on Dumbledore’s grave).

The first month is difficult, but once both Liam and JamieTheGirl act out and see there are no bad consequences, that they are not beaten or returned to the Children’s Home, they settle happily. JamieTheGirl asks to have her name changed, please, she will take a constellation name if they want to, just let her have a different name. They are enrolled in a new school and Draco buys a car and hires a chauffeur who happens to be a squib and there is no need for Harry to look at him that way.

Things are good.

It’s cold outside, the garden is dry and ugly, it rains nonstop for two weeks… but everything is good and nice. If Sean were here he would have something interesting to say about it. Everything in Sean is ugly, but he knows how to take the painful things and make them sweet, and he would know how to put into words that the world outside the house is ugly right now, but it’s also nice.

Draco feels Harry go rigid at the same time as him. “Who?” Draco says calmly just as Harry asks “What?”.

Sean is an ugly case. He was adopted when he was eight but he was returned a few months later. Nobody knows why although there is a lot of speculation. He often got himself beaten in school and once by Mister Murphy (“Who?”, “It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t work there anymore”, “Give me a detailed description of Mister Murphy, please”.) He is fifteen now so nobody will adopt him and Mister Gladwell says he will amount to nothing. Despite what Mrs Oxley says (Mrs Oxley is the deputy Director) Sean is not a criminal. He goes with bad people, sure, but he never stole Liam’s books and he even showed him a couple of hiding places. He is not bad at all.

On Friday they welcome Sean home. Just at the same time Mr Gladwell, Mrs Oxley, Mr Murphy and a criminal gang from the South Bank all suffer completely coincidental and unrelated accidents.

Sean is a young criminal. He is tough and hard, actively cultivating a mean strike and horrifyingly traumatized.

He is also deeply protective of Liam and Jamie. It’s heartbreaking.

Fortunately, Harry was also deeply traumatized at his age. It’s a horrible thought to have, but for once Harry is grateful for all that pain because he knows how Sean feels, he understands, and he can help.

No, Sean can’t have a wand or try magic. Yes, he still has to go to school. No, he can’t take the car. No, no smoking and no drinking either. Come along, you are going to take fighting classes.

Which might seem counter-productive. Do not teach the young delinquent to fight, yadda, yadda. Harry spent all of his fifteen year wanting to punch someone and Sean has this freaked-out look in the eyes that says he doesn’t trust Harry or Draco and that he wants to protect Jamie and Liam. The fighting classes make him feel more in control and they mellow him. Also, by the third time Draco has a tiff and demands to talk to the headmaster about Liam’s class placement, his math grades, Jamie’s English grades, and just-what-did-that-woman-insinuate-I-swear; something visibly relaxes in Sean.

(Not even Liam knows what his Biology teacher said that upset Draco. The next week they have the lovely Miss Quintrell instead and the whole class is happy so Liam doesn’t question it).

And suddenly it’s March and Ron’s birthday and there is a celebration at the Burrow. Harry arrives with his family and a well-structured explanation of how he is now the legal father of Sean, Liam and Possibly-Berenice (they are still trying names). He is really good at it. He gives a simple step by step account of the process, with helpful asides and clarifying details, everything. There is just this one thing. A small detail, really. An assumption that is not supported by reality.

“Mate, I’m very happy for you,” Ron says. “We all are. But, you never mentioned you were dating Malfoy and I believe I speak for everyone when I say it’s a shock.”

And, to be fair, nobody can say they are actually surprised that Harry showed up with three orphans. But Malfoy, well… Malfoy is something else. They thought Harry was merely befriending him, or possibly adopting him like he tried to do with Neville. The dating thing is a big mental shift.

“We are married,” Draco says, and then, at their stares, more quietly, “it was more convenient? For the paperwork?”.

There is a lot of “Harry Potter you did not get married without telling us” and “Harry Potter how could you just get married without a ceremony” and “you know we have been developing these party fireworks how could you do this to us” and Molly red-faced, waving a finger, “did you tell your parents, young man?” and it takes everyone, everyone, thirty seconds to realize she is not addressing Harry, but Draco, and Merlin’s pants, he did not, he didn’t tell them. Draco married Harry, moved with him and adopted three kids and his father doesn’t know, which goes a long way to ingratiate Draco with everyone, because Lucius Malfoy has not heard of this.

It also has the unexpected but very welcome benefit of making Sean laugh. Liam says Sean hasn’t laughed in years.

(And of course less than a month later the three kids have a hand-knit sweater, of course they do. Possibly-Berenice’s has a pattern of stars, pending her choosing a permanent name).

#asks #harry potter #draco malfoy #verse: Harry adopting left and right #Anonymous #textpost

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staticscreenwriting · 3 years

Text

The loneliest time of the year || Part one

Part 1 of 4

Summary: With a broken heart and the fear of having failed as a father, Frankie returns to his parents house for Christmas. What is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year feels quite lonely. Though when an old friend shows up unexpectedly with her young son in tow, Frankie’s Christmas seems to gain a little more happiness. Can they help each other fight the ghosts of their pasts and overcome their fears ? A/N: This is part of my 12 days of Christmas / Advent special. Every sunday leading up to Christmas you will get another part. That’s 4 parts in total. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Christmas time is the most depressing time of the year. Seriously, you can look that up. There’s a bunch of statistics about it and essays using long fancy words.

It’s a time that makes you so acutely aware of how lonely you actually are. And then you’re left to reflect on all the reasons why and that’s just fucking depressing.

Frankie maneuvers his car along the streets of his hometown, a light dusting of snow covers the ground and the trees to his left and right have long sharp icicles hanging from their branches like the sharp teeth of an imaginary monster that lives under your bed.

He passes by the old movie theatre, the 7/11, the diner where he got his first kiss, the red brick building that was once a printing house but has been turned into a Starbucks for some reason, and the public library that he used to volunteer at when he was in high school. There are ghosts in all the windows looking back at him. Ghosts of the boy he used to be and the memories he thought long forgotten.

This wasn’t the plan. He’s not supposed to be here. Or maybe he is. Maybe this is exactly what he deserves. To come crawling back home to mom and dad because the future he had tried so hard to build for himself came crumbling down on him in a matter of moments. And all of it is entirely his own fucking fault. If only he wasn’t such a damn mess.

“I'll have a blue Christmas without you

I'll be so blue just thinking about you.”

“Ah fuck off, Elvis!”

He turns off the radio and is left with just the quiet and his thoughts until the little blue house at the end of a cul-de-sac comes into view. This house has seen many versions of Frankie. Highs and lows. He wonders if he even knows the person he is anymore.

Across the street sits a park and then another little house, this is one red and the shutters are white and the paint is chipping. It used to sit empty for a while but there’s a car in the driveway and light coming from inside. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he isn’t the only one that changed, maybe the town did a little bit of changing too.

His mom is a hugger, always has been. Still is. At least that hasn’t changed. She has him wrapped in a warm big hug as soon as he gets out of the car. She smells the same way she did when he was a little boy. Like lavender and fresh cotton and warmth. His mom, Frankie thinks, has the ability to talk faster than anyone else he knows. Even faster than Pope when he’s drunk. She bombards him with information about various distant relatives and has him caught up on the last several years of their lives before his dad even manages to get to the door.

His dad looks older than the last time Frankie has seen him, but not in a fragile way. Age doesn’t make his dad look sickly or weak, it just makes him look wise. He’s got lines etched into the skin around his lips, from all the laughter and the smiles. Every adventure, every memory, it’s all there in his face and Frankie admires that so much. With every day passing he himself just looks sadder and more worn out.

“Darling, let him come inside. It’s freezing out here.”

Ever since he was little, Frankie knew that what his parents have was special. There was so much love in the way they talked with each other. It exuded from every word. From every look. They were a package deal. One could simply not be without the other. It’s something he knew most of his family members were envious of. Hell, he himself was envious of it.

“Hey Pops, good to see you.”

His dad wraps him in a hug as he steps into the warm house. His dad isn’t a hugger, he’s more stoic and calm but that doesn’t make him any less loving. There was never a day in his life, that Frankie ever doubted his father’s love for him. It’s just that he’s not the most physically affectionate guy, and that’s fine. When he does give out hugs, they are the best.

“Did the Murphy’s house get sold then?” Frankie questions, motioning over his shoulder towards the little red house. The couple who lived there, Margaret and Edwin, were lovely. They were the kind of old people that others just adore. Always a smile on their faces, always greeting you with the most infectious of good moods. They were already old when Frankie was a kid, but they were the kind of people you’d expect to live forever. Though death doesn’t care for any of that and eventually it came for them too. The house went to their only son, a man that always intrigued Frankie. Michael was a photographer and always on the road looking for a new adventure. He was his parents' age but there was a youth about him that made him look much younger. He always seemed like more of a friend or older brother to his daughter than a father.

His daughter. (Y/N) and Frankie weren’t friends. Not really. For that, they didn’t spend nearly enough time with each other. But whenever she would come around and spend the summers at her grandparents' place, Frankie and her would gravitate towards each other. There was an undeniable attraction, a magnetic pull. She always had the most exciting stories and for a teenage boy, there was nothing more exciting than a pretty girl with adventure in her veins.

He hasn’t seen her for a long time though, eventually, she went off to college and he joined the military. She came around less and less and then when first Edwin and then Margaret died, the house stayed quiet and lonely. Last time he saw (Y/N) was when he randomly ran into her at a bar but even that must’ve been at least 10, maybe 12 years ago.

“Oh no. Their son, Michael, do you remember him?”

“Sure.”

“He had a bad accident. Can’t work no more, needs a lot of help. You know what he was like, always on the road never really having a place he called home. Other than this house. So him and his daughter are back here. Do you remember her?“

“ (Y/N), yeah.”

“She’s moved back too. Gave up her entire life to help her father. Poor thing now works at the diner waiting tables for a living all the while taking care of Michael and her young son.”

“She has a kid?”

A sting of pain runs through his heart. Big brown eyes stare up at him in his mind, eyes that look so much like his. Eyes he couldn’t wait to see sparkling from joy on Christmas morning. Eyes he ain’t allowed to look into anytime soon.

“Yes, a little boy. Leo, he’s 7 years old. So well behaved and smart. Such a lovely little boy.”

A warm mug of coffee is thrust into Frankie’s hand as his father guides him to sit down on the big couch in the living room that’s been there ever since he was a kid.

“We invited them to come around for Christmas Eve dinner which reminds me that I still need to get a present for the boy.”

“Darling, it’s December 5th we still got time.”

Despite his heart laying in shambles by his feet, being around his parents sends a warmth through Frankie. It’s so familiar and comforting to be here. Maybe this isn’t all bad. Maybe this is exactly what he needs.

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me: One sweet reunion.

Frankie sits on his old bed in his old room. There are fewer posters there and the wall that used to be painted a dark blue is now a soft peach color. The old dark wood furniture has been replaced by white cupboards and two beds, both white too. An adult-sized bed for him and a toddler bed for Rosie. Little butterfly decals decorate the walls and soft pink curtains hang before the window. This is more Rosie’s room that’s his now, only she isn’t here to see it.

A knock on the door shakes him from his daydream. Voices echo through the halls and up the stairs. Voices he doesn’t recognize but by the tone in his mother’s words, he can tell they’re friendly faces.

“So we thought maybe we could borrow your car.”

Frankie sees her before she sees him. Had he not knows she was in town, maybe he wouldn’t have recognized her. (Y/N) looks older. Not old. Just more mature. She must be in her 30s now. Grown into her body. A mother.

“Of course dear, Frankie can help you get the tree if you want. We still need one ourselves anyway. Two birds one stone.”

“Frankie is home?”

(Y/N)’s voice shines with a glimmer of hope.

“I am.”

A smile spreads on her face, and that one he recognizes so well. It’s equal parts mischievous and warm. Familiar and comforting. Sassy and soft.

“Oh man, it’s so good to see you. It’s been some time, huh ?”

“Sure has,” he replies and the two of them share a quick hug. She’s cold from the air outside and smells like winter and snow. Her hair is hidden beneath a beanie and her fingers are kept warm by some fluffy blue mittens. She’s adorable. So fucking adorable.

“So, you want help getting your Christmas tree?” Frankie asks as she pulls away, missing the softness she brought.

“Well actually I was just asking to use your dad’s car but since you’re here, would you mind helping out ?”

“ Course not! We need a tree anyway and I’ll have you know, I’m great at finding the best Christmas trees.”

“That so?”

“Sure is.”

Another big smile spreads on (Y/N)’s lips. “Okay cool. Let me know when you’re ready. Leo and I are free all day.”

“That’s right, you have a kid now.”

There’s an infinite sense of pride that washes over her face. He knows the feeling, sees it in his own mother when she talks about him. Feels it in his heart when he thinks of Rosie.

“Frankie has a baby too, little girl.”

His mother means well. Doesn’t matter though, the mention of her still sends a pant of pain through him. Right to his heart and then it spreads slowly but surely to the rest of his body. Like an ice pick melting slowly.

“You do? Oh, I can’t wait to meet her.”

His heart breaks. Shatters. Crumbles.

“She’s uh — she’s with her mom for Christmas.” And pretty much any other day too.

“Huh, well I guess you’ll just have to tell me all about her then. “

He appreciates this. Her not asking but just taking the situation for what it is. Questions ask for answers he can’t give, doesn’t want to give.

“I can do that.”

“Okay great. Let me bother you no longer, just come knock on our door when you’re ready. You know where I live.”

With a wave and a smile, she makes her exit and steps back into the cold. Snow now falling in big white flakes from the skies, like big bubbles of soap. Like star fragments.

“She’s such a nice young woman, I wish life was a bit more gentle on her. “ his mom spoke up from beside Frankie.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too mom. Me too.”

When he steps out of the house a few hours later, the ground is already covered in a thick coat of fluffy snow. His boots leave deep prints in the pristine white blanket.

Across the street, he can hear a melody of laughter flowing through the air before two figures jump out from behind the house, wrapped in warm clothes, throwing snowballs at each other.

“Mom you’re cheating!” The young boy, Leo calls out, laughter ringing along with his words.

“No way! Nu-uh.”

“Yu-uh! “

The exchange puts a smile on Frankie’s face. It reminds him of his own childhood. When the world didn’t feel like it was working against him. When it was kind. When things were easy. When he was happy.

Realizing neither of the two has spotted him yet, Frankie squats down and gathers some snow in his glove covered hands. In a swift motion, he pulls his arm back and throws the snow in (Y/N)’s direction hitting her right in between her shoulders.

“Hey!”

There’s a second where anger and confusion reign over her face and then she realizes it’s Frankie who threw the snowball and it melts into warmth and mischief.

“I’ll get you back for that, dude. “

“That a threat?”

“Nah, it’s a promise.”

The boy regards them with careful curiosity.

“Leo, come here. This is my friend Frankie.”

To be quite honest, Frankie hadn’t really considered himself a friend of (Y/N) but to hear her introduce him as such felt real nice. He had friends, good friends, brothers even. Pope and the Millers knew him like the knee themselves but this was different. This was home.

“Frankie, this is my son Leo.”

The boy is all (Y/N). Same smile, same eyes. Like a copy and paste.

“Hey, Leo, nice to meet you.”

The boy gives him a shy wave. “Hi.”

“You guys ready to get some Christmas trees?” Frankie asked, looking from (Y/N) to Leo and back to her. The excitement on their faces makes him feel a little giddy.

Back when he was a kid, buying a tree was one of his favorite things to do during Christmas season. His dad always used to wake him up real early so they could be one of the first people at the Christmas tree sale. They’d stay for hours looking for the perfect tree. Now perfect didn’t mean it had to be actually immaculate. Perfect meant perfect for them. Sometimes they’d decide to find the fastest one or the one with the biggest hole. One time they found one with a bird's nest still inside.

Those were the good times and Frankie, knowing now how harsh life can be, will never take them for granted.

On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Two perfectly imperfect Christmas trees.

“Too big.”

“Too small.”

“I can literally count the branches on one hand.”

(Y/N), Frankie realizes as they look at what feels like the 12 millionth tree, is very particular when it comes to her Christmas trees.

“Mom, can we just pick one? They’re all good!” Leo chimes up as his mother dismisses yet another tree for being too skinny.

“I just want it to be perfect. When I was a little girl my dad and I were always traveling and when we’d come to my grandparents for Christmas they’d have this big beautiful tree every year. I want my dad to have that again.”

There’s more there, he can tell. By the way, her voice shakes slightly and the determination and chaos raging in her eyes. Frankie has yet to find out what exactly happened to her dad, what kind of accident he got in. But it’s not really a conversation starter now, is it?

Leo’s eyes meet Frankie's, a clear message traveling between them. A silent understanding.

“Look (Y/N) how about we let you roam this place in peace until you’ve found the perfect tree and Leo and I go see if we can find one for my parents? “

Leo nods his head in enthusiastic approval. A smile playing on his lips that is so strikingly similar to the one Frankie has seen so many times on the boy's mother.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, two of us are gonna find a perfectly imperfect tree for my folks and you go find the tree of your dreams. Just call if you need us, okay?”

She takes a breath, lets out a sigh. “Okay sounds good. Leo?”

“Sounds good to me too, mom.”

“Okay. Well, you boys have fun then.”

As she rounds the corner in search of the tree straight from a Christmas fairytale, Frankie turns to Leo who regards him with a guarded kindness.

“Thank you. “

“ For what? “ Frankie asks and raises his eyebrow in confusion.

“ For not making fun of my mommy. She’s so worried about grandpa, sometimes she goes a bit crazy.”

“ Nah she’s not crazy. She just wants to make everyone happy. Why would I make fun of her? Did someone make fun of her? “

It sends a flash of anger through him, the idea that someone might ridicule her for caring too much. If anything it’s what makes her so endearing. The world could do with more people like her. People who care. Deeply.

“ She talked to my daddy on the phone yesterday. I think he made fun of her. She cried. “

“ That’s — that’s not nice.”

Leo shrugs his shoulders in a way that seems casual but weary. As if he’s so used to it. Geez, the kid is 7. This isn’t something he should be used to.

“ Dad is not a nice person. Mama always says he’s busy and that he wants to see me but I don’t think that’s right. I think mama just doesn’t want me to be sad. I think daddy doesn’t really want to see me. Don’t think he loves me. But that’s okay mama loves me so much that’s enough. “

Leo’s words sent small cracks to Frankie’s heart and it’s quite hard not to let it crumble entirely. He’s never known what it feels like to be unloved by those that are meant to love you most. His parents adored him, still do. Even when he doesn’t deserve it. He can’t even begin to understand how much that must hurt. How devastating it must be, especially to a 7-year-old.

And yet Leo looks so — at peace. Like it bothers him sure, but it’s no big deal really.

Because he is loved either way. By (Y/N).

“ You’re a cool kid, you know that? “ Frankie asks and pats the young boy’s back in a friendly manner.

“ Mom says so. “

“ Well, she’s completely right. You really are. Now, you wanna help me find a tree? “

Leo nods enthusiastically.

“ Okay cool, but I’ll have to tell you how it works. “

“ We don’t just look for one we like?”

“ Oh no, you see the Morales family has a very specific tradition. Each year my dad and I go looking for a special tree. “

“ A special one? “

“ Mmmh. We always think of something special and then try to find a tree that fits that special thing. One time we tried to find the tallest tree on the lot or the widest or the skinniest. “

“ So what are we looking for this year? “

“ How abouuut … we look for one that has two tops? “

A giggle falls from Leo’s lips. “ That’s silly, that’s not a thing. “

“ Sure it is. You wanna go look for it? “

“ Yeah.”

There are big trees and small ones. Ones in shades of greens and some that look almost blue. There are fat ones with lots of branches and skinny ones that look like they’ve seen better days. None of them have two peaks though — until …

“ Frankie, look !”

His small, glove-covered hand is outstretched, pointing towards a tree before him. It’s a big tree, wide too. It’s blueish green color shines through the white haze of the winter's day.

And true to Leo’s words, the stem of the tree goes halfway up before it diverges into two different branches. Two tops.

“ That one’s perfect! “

“ He’s special! “

“ He is special. Good job, kid. “

The two share a high 5 as a laugh sounds from behind them.

“ I see you boys are getting along well. “ (Y/N) says as she approaches the two of them, placing a kiss on her son’s head as she reaches him.

“ We found a special tree, mom.”

“ Did you? Well so did I, it’s perfect. “

Her eyes wander towards Frankie’s and for a second it’s only the two of them there, veiled in shared understanding, a silent thank you.

“ I’m glad you found your tree, (Y/N). “

“ I’m glad you two had fun. Now hooow about we get those trees home and set up? “

“ Can we have hot cocoa at home, momma? “

“ Duh. Of course. You can’t decorate a Christmas tree without a good hot cup of cocoa.”

The softness in her voice, the pure adoration she holds for this boy, it makes Frankie think back to Leo’s words about his father and about (Y/N). About how she loves him enough for the both of them. And he can see it, clear as day. Her love for Leo.

Those two, he thinks, don’t need anyone. Especially not someone who doesn’t treat them with the love and respect they deserve. Those two are their own warmth, their own little universe. And it’s enough. It’s plenty. Everyone who’s allowed to be a part of their little world should be grateful because it’s a good world. It’s gentle and kind.

“ Alright you two, let’s get those trees home. “ Frankie pipes up and for a moment he is part of their little universe too. And it’s wonderful. He doesn’t wanna let go of this feeling. How anyone ever could is entirely beyond him.

On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Three mugs of cocoa.

Bobby Helms’ voice echoes through the room accompanied by the soothing crack of a vinyl record. It’s an old one, one (Y/N) has found in a box of her grandparent’s stuff. Jingle Bell rock fills the air with a sense of excitement and wonder only a good old Christmas song can bring.

There are 3 cups of cocoa on the table, one of them in a Star Wars mug. It all feels warm and cozy. Homey. And for the first time since he’s back, Frankie doesn’t feel out of place. He doesn’t feel like a stranger watching through the window into someone else's life. Someone familiar. Someone he once knew. Someone he once was.

Right now he feels like he’s right where he’s meant to be. With friends who chose him. A family that lets him into their lives and willingly shares a piece of their kindness and warmth and magic with him. Not because they are bound to him by blood, by shared trauma. Just because they like him, as he is.

(Y/N) and Frankie sit on the old leather couch that’s been there in this same living room for so many years. One that has seen different versions of (Y/N). Some of him too.

In the corner of the room, across from the big window leading out into a snowy dreamland, stands a perfect Christmas tree. (Y/N)’s perfect tree. It’s decked out in lights and ornaments and tinsel. Leo hops around the tree, adding yet more ornaments here and more tinsel there, a big smile on his face the entire time.

And as she watches her son relish in the pure unfiltered joy only a child really knows, (Y/N) smiles too. Because sometimes this is what it means to be happy, seeing your loved ones smiling.

“ Thank you, Frankie. “ she says, eyes still locked on her son.

“ For what? “

It’s the second time that day that he is being thanked and for what? For being there? Really he hasn’t done much. This is what friends do, isn’t it? What they should do. Help each other out. Be there for one another.

“ For playing along with my crazy antics. I know it’s just a tree but I just want this Christmas to be — to be good. For me and for Leo and for my dad. We haven’t had the best year and I just want to make this perfect for us. Or as perfect as possible. Thanks for not letting me see how annoying I was back at the tree sale. “

Frankie shakes his head dismissively. “ You weren’t being annoying. I get it, don’t worry. Leo, he uh — he said something similar to me earlier. Said his dad made fun of you? Made you cry. “

(Y/N) lets out a scoff, curls her lips in an unamused smirk. “ Derek’s a — “ her eyes trail towards her son who pays the two adults no mind “ — he’s such a dick. Always has been. But he was suave and he had a motorcycle and I just kind of fell for his bad-boy charms. He’s unreliable though and a goddamn child. When I told him about Leo he bailed on us. Sometimes he tries to be a dad, whenever he gets one of his moods and feels like he needs to turn his life around. Those don’t last very long though. He sends birthday gifts and Christmas presents and he calls every once in a while but — well his interest in Leo isn’t all that big. “

“ What an asshole. Why’d he make you cry? “

“ Ugh, it wasn’t really any particular thing, just an amalgamation of so many. He was making me feel stupid because of the tree thing. He was being dismissive of my feelings. He didn’t want to talk to Leo. It was just his entire mood that day that once again made me realize why I ended things with him in the first place. And it isn’t fair. It really isn’t. That I have to work twice as hard to be a good parent because I have to fill both roles and he gets off scot-free. Not even a guilty conscience. How am I ever gonna be able to play both roles and play them well? How can I do that? I feel like I am failing already. “

“ Are you kidding me? “ Frankie says and softly nudges her shoulder with his “ You’re a great mother. You��re fun, you’re loving. What else could Leo want? (Y/N) you are doing an incredible job, trust me. Little mistakes you make that might seem big to you, they really don’t matter to Leo. Not now and especially not in the long run. He’s gonna remember the good times. The snowball fights and the hot cocoa and the tree decorating. Those are the little moments that will become memories. “

“ You think so ? “

“ I know so. It’s what I remember about my childhood. And it’s uh — it’s what Leo told me. He said that his dad might not be around but that it doesn’t matter because you love him twice as much. Said that’s plenty enough. The boy loves you. You’re a wonderful mom. “

He forbids his mind from going to that dark corner where he’s banished all his own fears. Those that whisper to him in quiet moments. About how his shortcomings, his mistakes, his faults, how all of that will stain his relationship with Rosie. His ability to be a good father.

Lord knows he wishes his daughter was here now. Maybe not in this exact moment, a toddler really ain’t much help when setting up a tree. But here. In his arms. With him. During Christmas time. He fears that she never will be. That the times he gets to see her will become few and far between. That he will one day only be a distant memory to her because he ain’t ever given the chance to make any good ones with her.

His heart aches from how much he misses his little girl at that moment. But he has to remind himself not to wallow in it. Because once he goes there, lets himself fall into this big black hole of grief and of missing and of fear, there’s no coming back.

So he looks back at the people around him, at their soft smiles and the Christmas lights reflected in their eyes. Shining with happiness. Shining with joy.

And as the snow falls softly outside, he tries to focus on the warmth in this room. The warmth from the fire and from the hearts so soft and so filled with love.

Because he’d rather get lost in a beautiful dream than the sad reality of his fears.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales imagine #francisco morales x you #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales imagine #frankie morales imagines #francisco morales imagines #triple frontier imagine #jos2020xmasspecial #catfish imagine #catfish x reader #catfish x you

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lykegenia · 3 years

Link

Nate Sewell x Leah Kingston, hurt/comfort

I manage to make it all the way to my apartment and into pyjamas before I wobble. It’s just as well – getting into a crash because I was too teary-eyed to see the road would have been an embarrassing way to go – and at least the hour is late enough that none of my neighbours are around to bear witness to my return. Now that there’s time and distance between me and the warehouse, the adrenalin has faded enough for my stomach to start growling again. Hunger is a practical problem, one that I know how to solve.

Nothing in the fridge will make a proper meal, but the jar of kimchi and the leftover sausages can be cobbled together with one of the packets of instant ramen Nate shoved to the back of my cupboards with a distasteful curl of his lip. It’s ready fast enough that there’s not much time to dwell, but not even the care I take to make it look fancy, garnished with chives from the new pot on the windowsill, can make it taste of more than cardboard. I force it down anyway. The blank wall opposite the sofa stares back at me as I sit, curled up, trying to figure out what to do with my evening now that my plans have gone sideways. The sting in my eyes is easily blamed on the spice in the noodles.

Reading is out of the question, I need something to do with my hands. After a long moment, I set the bowl aside and cross the room to get the workbasket sitting half-forgotten down the side of one of the bookcases. The rag rug unfolds in my hands, creased from long storage. I started it in the quiet nights after Murphy’s capture, intending it to cover the cold tiles of the kitchen floor, the repetitive action of tying knots in strips of fabric almost as good as sleep when sleep eluded me. The only choice to be made with it is what colour to choose next, a simple, easy decision without any consequences at all. And silent, so the neighbours aren’t bothered by the noise of power tools in the wee hours. I had intended to have it finished weeks ago.

I’m completing the fourth new row when someone knocks on the door. The time blinking on my phone screen brings a frown to my face, the deep silence tingling over my skin. As unlikely as a trapper would be to knock, I lay my work aside and reach for the Volt gun stashed in the drawer of the coffee table. My feet make no sound as I creep to the door. The shadow cast by the hall light moves at my approach nonetheless, as if coming to attention, and I risk a glance down to check the safety.

And then I look through the peephole.

It’s Nate. He glances up as if the door isn’t even there, his expression a tight knot of worry clear even through the distortion of the lens as a breath shudders between my teeth. The Volt seems ridiculous now. Flicking the safety catch back on, I shove it into the utility cupboard beside the door and take a swift inventory of myself, smoothing a hand through my hair and across my cheeks before I dare lay it on the door handle.

He answers my smile as I swing the door open, but it’s guarded. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I can’t hold his eyes. “I wasn’t expecting anyone so late.”

“If I woke you –”

“You didn’t.” A pause. “It’s good to see you.”

“You’ve no idea –” he starts, then interrupts himself. “You’ve been crying.”

“No.”

“Yes, you have.” Because of me, he doesn’t say, but it’s easy enough to read in the tightness around his eyes.

“Alright, yes, fine,” I grumble, as something harsh squeezes in my chest. “Human lie detector. You should come in.”

As I step aside there’s a heartbeat before he crosses the threshold, ducking his head to avoid a collision with the door lintel, and then he pauses just inside the living room, shifting the weight uneasily between his feet.

“But I’m not human,” he says, with no trace of his usual humour. A shiver runs across my shoulders as I lock the door behind him.

“You’re close enough.”

When I turn back to face him, his features are contorted into incredulity. “How can you say that after what almost happened?” he demands. “What I almost did?”

He reaches for me, but the hand curls back around the words that stick in his throat before he can touch me. The shake of his head informs the shape of them anyway, what I knew they would be.

“If you’ve come to break up with me because of one stupid accident you can come back and do it in the morning,” I snap. “I’m not dealing with it now.”

The shock that meets such a blunt statement might have been comical in other circumstances, but there’s also the flicker of other emotions beneath the surface that pass too quickly for me to recognise. For a long, speechless moment the space between us unfolds with all the paths the brewing argument might take. Finally, with a helpless shrug, he licks his lips and makes a choice.

“I’m dangerous, Leah.”

“I think you proved tonight that you’re not,” I retort. “Not to me. Otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here.”

He flinches, hunching over as if winded. “You have no idea how much I wanted to – how tempting it was. It keeps playing through my mind.”

“Nate, I’m fine.” I dare a step towards him. “Everything’s fine. I’m not even bleeding anymore – you can stop worrying.”

When he doesn’t respond, the hopeful smile falls from my lips as I turn away. It’s a fight to keep my hands from wrapping around myself, from betraying exactly how lonely it feels with him so far away, but I won’t give in to the urge. They bunch into fists at my side instead; I’ll be able to wallow as much as I want after he leaves.

He notices. A gaze soft and full of regret falls on me as he crosses the floor, and my skin burns where his fingertips brush my arm. “I’ll always worry about you, and… I’ll always want to know that you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” I insist.

His touch falls to my injured hand, to the plaster on my finger. “I frightened you.”

“A little.” I swallow. “But it wasn’t just fear.”

He’s closer now than he was in the kitchen, brown eyes heavy on mine, shadowed by a frown as he tries to work out my meaning. Maybe in the end the flush in my cheeks give it away, because he blinks at last and his mouth falls open, held taut as if he can’t decide whether to advance or retreat, and the embarrassment of the whole thing forces me away with a huff of laughter and a ragged hand shoved through my hair. It doesn’t say much for my sense of self-preservation that I’m turned on by my boyfriend’s predatory instincts, especially when guilt twists so clearly at the corner of his mouth, but he deserves the honesty.

“No one’s ever looked at me with such… intensity before,” I mumble, staring past his left ear. “And I noticed you weren’t staring at my hand. It felt like you wanted… well.”

He hooks a finger under my chin. “I’ve never wanted to kiss you more.” With the confession spoken his gaze drops to my mouth, his fingers turning to trail along the curve of my jaw and down my neck, reverent over the sparking line of my pulse, and he leans closer. “But it might not have stopped there, not once I’d tasted you.”

“You really are like the hero in a vampire romance novel.”

A laugh breaks from his lips at the unexpected tease, my face cradled in his hands as he brings his forehead gently down to mine. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Can I kiss you now?” I ask, winding my arms around his neck. The moment hangs between us – there shouldn’t be any trace of blood left, but Nate is always cautious, always considerate.

“Nothing would make me happier,” he murmurs.

My smile bows against the pad of his thumb, and then the press of his mouth as he closes the last of the distance. After everything that’s happened, the relief of his touch is like a physical thing, setting a tremble in my knees that I’m glad no one else can see. Strong arms wrap more tightly around me to keep me standing, the scent of leather and rain that always follows him as soft as the kisses slanted across my lips.

The movement shifts our positions a little and I pull away at the unexpected sensation it brings, a sharp prod against my stomach.

“What is in your pocket?”

He laughs again. “Maybe I’m just happy to see you.”

“Then I have some serious anatomical concerns.”

Still chuckling, he lets his hands fall from my shoulders and after a moment of rummaging produces a small, square tin from one of the oversized pockets in his leather jacket. The series of Chinese-style paintings decorating the sides suggest that at one time or another it was used for tea, probably directly imported from some small, artisan family business, knowing Nate.

“They were meant to be dessert, but they won’t keep,” he says in explanation.

Curious, I take the offering and pry off the lid. Inside is a nest of soft, crisp tissue paper, and hidden beneath the topmost layer –

“Macarons?”

I hardly dare to breathe. The smooth, round shells are unmistakeable, their sugary almond scent immediately conjuring an image of the old tearoom where I first tried them, complete with pristine white tablecloths and fussy porcelain teacups.

They’re a pain to make, and I’ve never tried. Not only do all the measurements have to be precise, the process followed to the letter, but humidity or a wind from the north or the wrong moon phase can ruin them, and you’d better hope you don’t have plans for the rest of the day. They’re also far too expensive to buy regularly on a cop’s salary. With anyone else I’d wonder what occasion I’d forgotten, or the reason for trying to butter me up, but Nate is just… like this.

“You made me macarons.”

“They’re not perfect,” he cautions, reaching out.

I shake my head. “Yes they are.” They’ve even been dusted with glitter powder, which I suspect is a touch added by Felix – Nate’s romantic but he would never deign to be gaudy. “Thank you.”

“After ruining dinner I thought at least I could give you these.” He shrugs before I can contradict him. “Thank you, by the way, for clearing everything up.”

“Of course,” I answer, reaching for his hand. “Will you stay?”

“I would like that.”

Flashing a smile, I hand back the tin of macarons so I can clear away enough space on the sofa for us both to sit. The scattered rags are stuffed back into the workbasket with the scissors, and the tape measure fished from its attempted escape down the side of the cushions.

Nate helps fold the rug. “I haven’t seen this before,” he says. “It’s pretty.”

“It’s just something I do in spare moments.” I shrug. “Actual crochet is a bit beyond my skill level, but it’s nice to have something to do that doesn’t require thinking. What’s that smile for?”

“No reason in particular,” he murmurs, once more stepping close. “Every time I think I can’t be luckier to have you in my life, you prove me wrong.”

I have to drop my gaze, stammering against the urge to protest. “You’re the one making me fancy desserts.”

“I have to find something to do while you sit buried under all that paperwork,” he teases. “Shall we enjoy them?”

His hand stretches out in offering, and with it he draws me down to his side, patient while I get comfortable, tucked up under his arm safe and small and enveloped in warmth. A kiss brushes against my forehead. Even after months, I still marvel at how Nate can make my apartment feel so much more like a home just with his presence, and as he tilts the macaron tin towards me, knowing how easily I might have gone without it tonight – how I would have thought it normal, once – turns the gesture into something even sweeter.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #nate sewell #nate sewell x detective #nate sewell x f!detective #nate x leah #leah kingston #my writing

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javier-djarin · 4 years

Text

Como Me Duele: Chapter 1

Ship: Javi x Reader

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,270 words

Warnings: Language

Masterlist

Summary: After your life fell apart six months ago, you decided it was time for a change. So, you moved to Colombia, taking a position at a local hospital. Your family thinks you’re insane, but The Murphys couldn’t be happier having you as their neighbor. Upon your first, and very brief, meeting with Agent Peña, you’ve captivated him. Despite Steve’s warnings, Javier still wants to get to know you on a more personal level.

A/N: This takes place a little into season 1. This is my first time writing Javier. So, please let me know what you think. Please let me know if you want to be on my taglist!

Your POV

You had been living in Colombia for about a week, working at the hospital as a doctor. You had signed up for one of those Doctors Without Borders programs after you broke it off with your faithless, bastard of a fiancé. You needed a change of pace and a change of scenery - a way to forget about what happened. When he heard you were leaving, he accused you of running away from your problems instead of trying to fix them. Maybe he was right, but after catching him sleeping with your Maid of Honor, you knew there was no fixing your problems. You wanted to leave that life, the memories and pain, behind and find yourself somewhere new.

Your old college friend and roommate, Connie, told you about the hospital in Colombia and how it was in terrible need of assistance. Luckily for you, she had said, there was even an apartment in her building that had just opened up. You took this as a good sign and applied for the position. Your family, mother in particular, thought you had lost your mind. Colombia was dangerous; especially with the likes of Pablo Escobar running rampant. However, you reassured her that you weren’t alone since Connie and her husband Steve were down there and were going to be your neighbors in Bogotá.

You moved down there in March, just before Spring. You decided to head down a few weeks early to get acclimated to the area and comfortable in your new apartment. Connie sat with you in the middle of your floor as you unpacked some boxes with a wine bottle between the two of you. “I’m so glad you took the job,” she said sipping on the red wine.

You smiled. “I had to get out of there. Everywhere I went, people stared at me, pitied me for what he did.”

Connie shook her head and took another drink. “I still can’t believe Michael did that to you. You guys had been together since undergrad!”

“I don’t know if his or Hannah’s betrayal hurt worse,” you sighed, taking a huge swig of wine, “but now I’m here ready to start over.”

You froze as you pulled out a photo album from a box. It was your engagement photos. Instinctively, Connie reached for the album. “I’ll get rid of this.”

You pulled it back. “No. I want to keep it. It can always remind me that things could be worse.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It’ll stay in this box forever, probably, but I’ll still have that reminder. No matter how bad things get, I didn’t marry a lying bastard.”

Connie laughed and held her wine glass up. “Cheers to that, girl.”

You pushed your glasses up on your face and stretched. “I have so much unpacking still, but it’s getting late.”

“I can stop by after work tomorrow if you want.”

“You sure Steve won’t mind?”

She shook her head. “He’s been working late these last few nights. But, if he is coming home early, I can have him pick up dinner for the three of us.”

You knew Steve was a DEA Agent and that he volunteered for this job when his partner in Miami was murdered. This move had been rough on Connie, but she loved her husband dearly and would follow him to the ends of the Earth. Your heart ached for that kind of love, but you knew that with the cards you had been dealt, you needed to wait for a new hand. “If he doesn’t mind, then Girls’ Night Round 2 will commence.”

There was a knock at the door. You looked puzzled at Connie. You literally only knew Connie and Steve down here, so you weren’t expecting anyone. You stood up from the floor and fixed the messy bun your hair was in. You opened the door and saw Steve standing there with another man. You had seen him before and figured he worked with Steve and lived nearby. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, giving you a hug and kiss on the cheek, “is Connie still here?”

“I’m in here, Steve,” she said holding up her glass of wine at him.

“Ah, yes. I see you two are still catching up.”

You laughed. “Come on in. It’s not much, because we are still unpacking.”

Steve and his friend stepped inside. You adjusted your glasses again and grinned at him. The man behind Steve cleared his throat. “Oh, sorry. Y/N, this is my partner Javier Peña.”

You held out your hand for him to shake. He grabbed it and gave you a devilish grin. “Nice to meet you,” you said.

“Mucho gusto,” he said in Spanish. The syllables flowed off his tongue and almost had you melting where you stood. You could tell just by those two words he was exactly what you wanted to avoid. You glanced up at his dark brown eyes and smiled. No matter how good looking this man was, you needed to avoid him at all costs. He smelled like trouble.

You turned away and walked back into the room with Connie. “What did you need, honey?” she asked.

“We gotta fly out tonight,” he said, “to Medellín.”

She stood up. “For how long?”

He shrugged. “Few days probably.”

Connie sat her glass down. “Thank God I have Y/N to keep me company then.”

“I’m sure we can find plenty of trouble to get into while you’re gone,” you said with a grin.

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Just don’t get too friendly with the local law enforcement while we are gone.”

“Hey,” you argued, “I haven’t been friendly with them since after I completed my residency.” You saw Javier’s eyebrows raise in curiosity, but you ignored him. “And even then I still talked my way out of the cell.”

“Connie, she’s not helping,” he said.

“I’ll keep her out of trouble. We will be more focused on setting up her apartment anyway.”

Smiling, Steve leaned in to kiss his wife. “I’ll call you when I can.”

“Be safe. Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He and Javier walked out of the door. Before closing it behind him, Javier turned to you and said, “It was nice meeting you, Y/N.”

You smiled and nodded. “Likewise.”

You waited a few seconds before saying anything to Connie. “He radiates trouble.”

Connie sat back down on the ground and laughed. “You could say that. I love Javi, but he’s a little more trouble than you would want right now.”

“I doubt I’ll see much of him once I start working anyway.”

She grinned at you and took another sip of her wine.

His POV

He followed Steve down the stairs of their apartment complex without saying a word. It wasn’t until they reached his Jeep did Steve finally break the silence. “Okay, man, just say it,” he said.

“Say what?”

“I’m not a moron Peña.”

He grinned and started the car. Boston came on through the speaker. “I fucking love this band,” he said, cranking up the volume.

Steve leaned over and turned it down. “Come on. I saw you look at her.”

“I had to when you introduced me.”

“Okay, but I saw you look at her. Just promise me this, you won’t try anything with her. She’s one of Connie’s best friends and she’s been through enough. I don’t need my wife trying to murder my partner because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.”

Javier laughed and put his Jeep in drive. “With our schedule, I don’t think I’d have time to try anyway.”

Steve let out an audible, annoyed sigh. He knew that was Peña’s way of getting around making any promises. Luckily, he knew Y/N well enough to know she could hold her own. If she didn’t want a man to fuck with her, she’d let them have it. Part of him wanted to see her give Peña’s ego a reality check, but the other part didn’t want him anywhere near her.

They rode in silence for a little while, and Javier’s mind began to wander. In her messy bun, glasses, oversized concert shirt, and short shorts, she was the sexiest woman he’d seen. He wanted to run his hands down over her round, plump ass and pull her down on his lap, devouring as much of her as he could. He could still feel her soft, delicate hand in his while she gave him a nice firm handshake. He pictured taking each of those fingers and nibbling on them before he worked his way to her wrist and up the rest of her arm. These thoughts made him a little uncomfortable and he adjusted in his seat.

Steve looked at him, disgusted. “I know what you’re thinking about. Find the local whorehouse when we get to Medellín, please, so you can get this out of your system.”

Javier rolled his eyes. “I can’t help it. You didn’t warn me that your wife’s friend looked like that!”

Steve rested his hand in his hand near the window. “Look, man, she will destroy you. Trust me, she wants nothing to do with your shit right now. I’m pretty sure she hates all men.”

“What happened?”

“Her piece of shit fiancé slept with her Maid of Honor about two months before the wedding.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. So leave her alone.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t do anything that will make her regret moving to Bogotá.”

He did it again. Made a promise without making a promise he would break. Steve leaned forward and turned the music up a little bit. An Aerosmith song was playing now and offered as a nice distraction from their current topic. Steve knew there was no way he would get Javier to promise he wouldn’t try to sleep with Y/N.

Your POV

Just as she promised, Connie came over after work to help you finish setting up your apartment. You had everything out of the boxes, now and were working on organizing things. Connie walked in with food from a local bar just down the street and some more wine. “I figured if Steve is still gone tomorrow, we can go out with a few people from the hospital. It’ll be a great chance for you to meet everyone.”

You took a bite of your food. “Just let me know what time.”

“The staff is wonderful down here. How’s your Spanish?”

“Rusty, but I think I can manage.”

“Great! I’ll come by after work tomorrow to come get you. It’s just a short walk from here.”

You finished your dinner and downed a glass of wine. Connie noticed when she walked in that you were a little off. She noticed how puffy and red your eyes were, but she figured that was from wearing contacts all day. “Is everything okay?”

You sighed and put your head in your hands. “Michael called this afternoon. He was begging me to come home and work it out.”

“How did he get your number?”

You shrugged. “I have no idea. I want to say my mother, but there’s no way she would have given it to him. He wants to burn him alive for what he did to me.”

“What did you tell him?”

“To fuck off.” You tried to fake a smile, but it didn’t work.

Connie caught on. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. But you don’t have to deal with him anymore. He’s out of your life now. You’re somewhere new, ready to move on.”

Sighing, you took another sip of your wine. “It’s not that simple, Connie. We were together through undergrad, through med school. I thought he was it. The love of my life. I can’t just forget that.”

She reached forward and grabbed your hand. “I know, but don’t let him get to you. Who knows how long they were fucking before you caught them.”

“A year. Or so he says.”

“A year! You were engaged for almost a year!”

You felt the tears brimming in your eyes, ready to stream down your cheeks. “I know. I still have more questions than he had answers.”

“When I told Steve what happened, he was ready to fly home and murder Michael himself.”

You smiled. “Tell him he can take a number.”

Connie laughed. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there."

You shrugged your shoulders. "It's fine," you said, "I don't know what I would have done if Kate wasn't there."

She came around the counter and wrapped an arm around you, putting her head on your shoulder. "She should come down once you're settled. I miss her."

"I told her that once I was moved in, I would give her a call."

She smiled and clapped her hands. "It'll be just like senior year!"

You grabbed the dishes and placed them in your sink, scrubbing the food off them before letting them dry. Connie moved into your living room and started organizing all of your books by genre. "I can't believe you brought all of these," she said.

"I only brought my favorites!" You defended.

The bookshelves were set up comfortably around your TV set and were just barely big enough to house all of your books. You followed behind Connie placing picture frames and knick-knacks on the shelves to give your little library more character. You stopped when you found a picture that was taken of your med school graduation. You and Connie were surrounded by your friends with Steve clinging to her side...and Michael to yours. It was one of your favorite pictures, but now it only brought back the pain. You gently set it on the second shelf, at eye level for you. Connie watched you stare at it and felt her heart break for you. She waited for you to say something first. "What hurts the most is remembering all of the moments like these. The nostalgia of when we were happy and in love."

Connie walked over to you and rested her hand on your back. "We had so much fun that night," she smiled.

"And given what I know, I would do it all over again."

The phone rang, startling both of you. You rolled your eyes. "I'll answer it," Connie said.

She walked to the wall where you mounted your phone and picked up the line. "Hello?"

"Y/N?" A familiar masculine voice said on the other end.

"She's busy," Connie dryly replied.

"Oh, it's you, Connie."

"She doesn't want to talk to you, Michael. So, stop calling here."

"You don't understand. I need her back. I cannot do this without her."

"Well, you should have thought about before you started fucking Hannah."

"I made a mistake," he pleaded.

"Clearly you weren't that sorry if you kept going back."

She heard him sigh through the receiver. "This is between me and Y/N. Give her the phone."

"She's getting ready. We're heading out with Steve and his partner Javi for the evening to celebrate her leaving your worthless ass."

"Wait. Javi-" she slammed the receiver on the wall and turned to face you.

"Now that's settled, back to decorating." She was obviously very proud of herself.

"Javi?" You grinned.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him. It's not like he's going to come down here to bring you home."

You laughed. "Thank you."

"Of course." She finished putting the books away for you before going to the stacks of pictures on the floor. “Y/N, we need to update some of these.”

“Let’s do it!” You saw Connie taking the photos out of frames and making piles of them on your side table. She laid them neatly inside the drawer. She, then, started hanging up the empty frames. “What are you doing?”

“That way you remember that we should update them with pictures down here.”

You smiled at her. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His POV

They were on a stake out just outside of a rundown building that they believed was one of Escobar’s operations. They needed to find proof that Escobar was in fact a Narcos to help derail his political ambitions. Javi sat in the passenger seat staring out the window, finding it hard to keep his eyes open. “Hey,” Steve said, “wake up. I’m not going to sit here on this stake out on my own.”

Javier grumbled and sat up in his seat. “Look, no one has come in or out of this building for hours. I think we need to throw it in. We got bad information.”

Steve leaned his head back on the headrest and sighed. “You might be right. I don’t know what’s worse. This or sitting back at the office going through paperwork.”

He laughed and grabbed a cigarette to light. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Oh great. I absolutely love it when you do that.”

Javier rolled his eyes. “I think Connie’s friend needs a good distraction to forget what that piece of shit fiancé did to her.”

“Are we seriously going to talk about this again?”

“Come on, Steve. You can’t forbid me from talking to her. That makes her like…” he paused, trying to think of the appropriate metaphor, “forbidden fruit.”

“Forbidden Fruit?” Steve laughed. “Jesus Christ.”

“You know that just makes her that much sexier to me.”

Steve adjusted in his seat to look at his partner. “I can’t even pretend to be surprised by this. Shouldn’t you be more worried about your...ahem...contacts?”

Javier gave him a devilish grin. “Just introduce us. Properly, this time. Not just in passing like you did.”

He shook his head. “Nope. You’re going to have to ask Connie for that. I refuse to get involved.”

Javier let out an exasperated sigh and flicked some of his ashes out of the window. “I’ll just do it myself.”

Steve knew that Javier was a persistent bastard, especially when he set his mind to something. Had this been ten years ago, he might have actually considered setting the two of them up. She was his type, and fiery enough to keep Javier on his toes. But now? He’d known both her and Michael for years. He knew how in love they were, and how she would do anything to make him happy. Javier would only make her life more complicated right now, and he didn’t want to put her through any more shit. “Peña, I seriously suggest you leave her alone. Her life fell apart only a few months ago. Connie said she broke down more than once unpacking her things. She’s not going to just jump into bed with you after the one person she thought she was going to spend the rest of her life with broke her heart. Hell, I doubt she’s ever going to trust anyone ever again. They were together for eight years before he popped the question. You can’t forget someone like that.”

Javier took a minute to think on what Steve said. It wasn’t too long ago when he broke his own bride’s trust, leaving her at the altar, embarrassed and alone. Several months after things cooled down from the incident, he asked his father about Lorraine. She was distraught. After all, they were together for almost as long, if not longer than Y/N and her fiancé. He never knew if she found someone and moved on with her life. He couldn’t bring himself to digging into her, for fear of her finding out. He had done enough damage. It was then that he understood the pain Y/N harbored. “Fine, you fucking hillbilly. You’ve made your point. I don’t want to cause her anymore pain.”

#Javier Peña #Javier Pena #Narcos #Como Me Duele #Javier Pena x Reader #Javi x Reader

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heloflor · 3 years

Text

Going back

AO3 link

As Cavendish’s mission to find the abducted person takes more time than he expected, the tall man finds himself forced to find new provisions and dreadfully goes back to the place he had left.

Note : Just some random angsty thing that I thought of yesterday, because apparently according to my brain nothing says Christmas like some shipping angst that has nothing to do with winter or the holidays. Also, like last fic, Cavendish and Dakota are an (old) married couple here. Anyways, Merry Christmas for those who celebrate it and happy holidays !

Balthazar grumbled at himself as he was walking through the empty streets. He had thought that his objective would be short enough : find the UFO, warn the media, find and rescue the abducted person, get proclaimed a hero, get promoted, go home a well and wealthy man. But instead, it had been almost three weeks since he found the spaceship and he still couldn’t get anyone else to see it ! And on top of being beyond frustrated, he was now lacking food and water.

So now here he was, back in the town, in the middle of the cold night, quickly approaching the complex where his ‘apartment’ was. At least the ship crashed rather close to the town. All he needed to do was get some water from the shared bathroom and grab some snacks in his place. Nonetheless, having to come back for this made him regret not taking any money when he left. Given how little they earned, Balthazar had decided to leave any money he had to Vinnie. He knew the shorter man would need it to go out and eat.

Vinnie…

Balthazar missed the man tremendously. He never intended to leave this long and the separation was starting to weight on him. But he knew that he had to go on, for the both of them. Things will be much easier for them once their boss would be informed of his discovery.

Still, as Balthazar reached the door to their place, he found himself hesitating. What if Vinnie was awake ? What would he say ? Balthazar didn’t want the shorter man to see him. It had been hard enough to use the memory eraser once, he didn’t want to do it a second time, especially in the middle of the night ! What if Vinnie were to do something stupid and no-one was there to help him ? And being this vulnerable during the night…

Balthazar shook his head. It wouldn’t come to this. He wouldn’t let it. His mind set, he took a deep breath and slightly opened the door.

He quickly caught sight of Vinnie who was lying on the couch. While he couldn’t see the man’s eyes, his breath was slow. He was sleeping.

Reassured, Balthazar let himself in, slowly closing the door. The curtains weren’t pulled at the windows, letting the moon light the room. The tall man took a better look at his partner and had to fight the urge to go by his side. Vinnie was still fully clothed, including his glasses and chain. But what really tipped Balthazar off was his husband’s expression. Usually, Vinnie looked peaceful while sleeping, his face letting a small smile being seen. But now, despite sleeping soundly, the man on the couch was frowning, almost looking in pain. This made Balthazar want to get closer, to slowly put his hand through his partner’s hair, to whisper that every was alright, to stay as long as needed until the shorter man was in peace.

But he couldn’t. He wasn’t there for Vinnie. Besides, the short man had a good eye. If Balthazar were to make him more comfortable, Vinnie would notice it the moment he wakes up.

He just needed to get some food and leave. After all, he knew Vinnie had a tendency to buy more than he eats in a day. There had to be some snacks here.

Feeling a pang in his chest, Balthazar looked away from the couch and walked to Vinnie’s side of the room, looking into the man’s desk. As he looked into the drawers, the taller man did his best not to make any noise. While he knew his husband to be a heavy sleeper, he also never saw him so bothered while sleeping, so who knew how he would react to noise.

Soon enough, he found what he was looking for and hurried to put them into his bag. But as he was taking the last bag of chips, he heard a groan coming from the couch and froze, looking at the direction of the noise.

“Cavendish…”, Vinnie whimpered.

Balthazar found himself drawn to his sleeping partner, momentarily forgetting about his objective. He stopped moving for a second as Vinnie opened his eyes, but his gaze was unfocused. Clearly the shorter man was still half-asleep and wouldn’t remember this moment.

“Cavendish ?”, he repeated sleepily.

“shhh.”, Balthazar crouched in front of the couch, cupping Vinnie’s cheek. On closer inspection, his partner looked exhausted. Just how much had he slept since the taller man left ? “Go back to sleep.”, he soothed.

“Don’t leave.”, his husband mumbled, putting a hand on top of Balthazar’s.

“…I’m here.”, the taller man replied as he interlocked their fingers while trying not to let guilt overtake him. Gently, he let his other hand trail through the shorter man’s hair, trying to lure him back to sleep.

“Please don’t go.”, Vinnie mumbled again.

“shhh. It’s alright dear.”, Balthazar couldn’t help himself and started to get his partner in a more comfortable position. Discretion be damned ! He refused to leave while Vinnie was like that, no matter the fact that the shorter man would notice in the morning ! Slowly, he removed Vinnie’s glasses and chain, putting them on the table next to the couch, before gently helping the sleepy man out of his tracksuit, quickly pulling it aside before going back to hold his hand.

For a moment, they just stayed like this, Balthazar slowly coercing Vinnie into a more peaceful slumber with small touches. The tall man wanted nothing more than to join his husband, to lay by his side, hold him in his arms, pull him close and never let go…

Soon enough, he will be able to. But for now, he had a mission to accomplish.

“We will soon have all the things we want.”, he whispered once Vinnie looked asleep. “I will be back as quickly as possible, I promise.”

“Love you.”, Vinnie’s words came out barely audible.

“I love you too.”, Balthazar replied. He couldn’t help but give his partner a quick kiss, satisfied to see him smile.

Slowly, Balthazar got up, put a blanket over his husband and closed the blinds enough to prevent the sun from hurting Vinnie’s eyes in the morning. Then, he took his now-full bag and opened the door, giving one last glance to the sleeping man.

“Goodnight dear.”, was the last thing he said before disappearing into the night.

When Vinnie woke up, he could tell something was different. The first clue was how he didn’t feel the sunlight wake him up way too early for comfort. But at least it was a good alarm clock.

The second clue was when he sat up and noticed just how naked he felt. He was wearing nothing but an underwear and a shirt, his tracksuit neatly put on the back pillows while his glasses and necklace were on the table behind him. The only thing covering him from the cold was a cover that…wait, when did he get a cover ?

A sparkle of hope suddenly coursed through him.

“Cavendish ?”, he called, but no reply came from the room.

Quickly, he went outside to the shared bathrooms. But again, the man he was looking for was nowhere to be found. Dejected, he went back to his apartment.

Maybe I just took better care yesterday and forgot. Yeah, that must be it. , he considered. …Or maybe spending so much time here is starting to get on me…

With a sigh, he grabbed a bag and started putting clothes and a sleeping bag in it. For the last two weeks, it had become hard for him to bear staying here, especially at night. He had lost count of how many nights he spent just staring at the ceiling, to the point where he even stopped bothering with putting pajamas on or just caring about how he was going to sleep. And while he was grateful that last night went better, it was a rare exception.

For a while now, he had considered going to Dr.D’s place to sleep, hoping the Murphys wouldn’t be bothered by another person living in their yard. Besides, unlike the professor, he would eat his meals out instead of at the Murphys. As for showering, he could still come here for it. The apartment was the place he couldn’t handle to be at anymore, not the entire complex.

Yes…, his mind made, Vinnie left the complex, closing the door for what he hoped wasn’t the last time.

#Milo Murphy's law #mml #dakavendish #Vinnie Dakota #Balthazar Cavendish #my fanfics #looks like I'm back on the angst train #as if I ever left

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kilibaggins · 3 years

Text

Believe with me

Raven & Murphy Christmas Kid Fic

Ao3 Link: HERE

Request: Not Requested!

Prompt: Believe.

Summary: In which Murphy Believes, and Raven does not, Until... (p.s they meet santa)

A/N: This was so fun and sweet??? eee???

Setting: Modern Setting, at a foster home owned by Miss Griffin, and Mr. Kane.

Warnings: Uh, mentions children being dropped off/no wanted, mentions parent death, but both are fairy short.

Word Count: 1710

“Murphy, Santa isn’t real.” Raven says, sitting next to Murphy, who is on his bedroom floor. Murphy sticks out his tongue at her, and resumes work on his letter to Santa.

“Yes, he is.” Murphy says, kicking his feet as he writes. He giggles as he writes down the thing he wants most.

“Do you really think an old guy with a white beard goes around every year to deliver presents?” Raven asks, rolling her eyes. Murphy sighs softly and grabs some glitter, putting some on the letter. Raven cringes at it, knowing there will be glitter all over their shared room now.

“Yup.” Murphy says, and he happily folds up the letter, Raven rolls her eyes and lays down on her bunk.

“Think about it, you write a letter, give it to Mr. Kane, and then you get presents.” Raven says, and Murphy looks at her weirdly.

“So?” Murphy asks, standing up and giggling as he runs over to where he put his envelop. He puts the letter in, and seals the letter shut.

“So! It’s obvious Mr. Kane is who gets your presents!” Raven says, exasperated. She’s older than Murphy, so she can understand why Murphy believes in Santa. But that has to stop.

“No! Mr. Kane sends it to Santa!” Murphy argues, and Raven sighs angrily.

“You’ll know better when you’re a bit older.” Raven says.

“Miss Griffin still believes, and she’s older than you!” Murphy says, pouting.

“They’re pretending for you, and the other kids here.” Raven says.

“No. Santa is real. I believe in him. He’s going to make my wishes come true.” Murphy says, and Raven shakes her head.

“Whatever.” She says, grabbing a book to read.

While going downstairs to give his letter to Mr. Kane, he thinks about Raven. Raven hasn’t been happy lately, ever since her dad dropped her off here at the home, a year after her mom died.. Murphy doesn’t know the pain of being dropped off, since he doesn’t remember it. He just knows this place as his home, and that’s it. He has been here since he was a baby. But he does know that Raven doesn’t smile. She hasn’t smiled once in the 5 months she’s been here. The others don’t enjoy time with her because they think she’s mean, but that isn’t what’s wrong. Murphy knows Raven is just sad.

Murphy makes it to Kane’s office and knocks on the door.

“Come in!” Kane says from inside, and Murphy reaches for the doorknob, struggling slightly to twist it since he’s not that strong yet. He can’t wait until he’s bigger and he can be strong like Mr. Kane.

“Hi!” Murphy says softly, padding over to Kane’s desk. Kane watches him walk over with a small smile. None of the others know this, but out of all of the kids, Murphy is the one he feels the most attached to. He knows he shouldn’t feel more attachment to one kid over another, but he’s raised Murphy. Murphy was the only one who came here when he was a baby.

“Well, Hello there, John. What can I do for you?” He asks, in a fake professional voice. He knows why Murphy is here, if his glitter covered hands and the envelope in his hand mean anything. He also knows Murphy loves the idea of being professional, so if he has to pretend not to know what’s happening to make him happy, he will.

“I have a letter to send, Mr. Kane.” Murphy says, standing up straight. Kane almost breaks and smiles before schooling his face back to a professional look.

“And where would you like it sent, Mr. Murphy?” Kane asks, holding out his hand. Murphy giggles softly, but then shakes his head, putting himself back into character.

“The North Pole.” Murphy says, handing over the envelope. Kane takes it, and his hand immediately has glitter on it, but he doesn’t mind. After taking care of a bunch of kids, he got used to the mess.

“Well, I’ll be sure to send this there very soon, alright?” Kane says, putting it on the edge of his desk, where only one other Envelop lies. Murphy knows he and Octavia are the only ones who write letters to Santa, they are the youngest after all. They haven’t lost their spark.

“Thank you, Mr. Kane!” Murphy says, dropping his professional act, and running out of the office. He forgets to shut the door, before running back and closing it. Kane chuckles softly, and goes back to his work. He’s happy he set Murphy and Raven up in the same room. After everything Raven has been through, Murphy is exactly what she needs. A young kid with so much love in his heart he cries over bugs being hurt.

Murphy runs back up to his room, and opens it wide.

“Hi! Did you miss me?” Murphy asks, giggling as he runs over to the bed. Raven scoffs softly and nods.

“Yup.” She says, disinterested. Murphy giggles.

“Good, because I'm very important.” Murphy says, smiling at Raven.

“Yeah, yeah.” Raven says, throwing one of Murphy’s stuffed animals at him, it’s a small white dog that he usually has on his bunk.

“I have an idea.” Murphy says, and looks at Raven with a small mischievous look.

“Oh, no, what is it?” Raven asks, sitting up. Murphy giggles again.

“We’re going to watch for Santa!” Murphy says, climbing up to the top bunk.

“Oh, we are now?” Raven says amused. “Murphy, I already said Santa isn’t real. I’m not going to watch for him.” Raven says, and Murphy’s head pops over the punk to look down at her.

“Please, Raven! I want to show you! He exists!” Murphy says. And raven thinks for a minute. She doesn’t want to hurt Murphy, but no matter what she does here, he will get hurt. She can say no, and He’ll be hurt by that, and he can say yes, and they will ultimately not see Santa, which will hurt him too. But at least He will know she cares about him if she says yes.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay up with you.” Raven says, before remembering something. “You can barely stay up past 9, how are you going to stay up until then?” Raven asks, and Murphy giggles.

“You’re going to go tell Mr. Kane I wasn’t feeling well, So I’m sleeping.” Murphy says, before laying down completely.

“So that way you can get sleep beforehand.” Raven says, and Murphy giggles.

“Yup.” He says, and Raven sighs before going to do her part of the plan.

4 hours later, when everyone else is asleep, and it’s 10 P.M, Raven and Murphy leave their room, and go to where the tree is set up in the large living room. They find the couch, and hide behind, setting up their snacks and drinks there. Raven seems to be enjoying herself in some way, even if she’s not smiling at him.

“I can’t wait until he gets here!” Murphy giggles and looks around watching for him. Raven rolls her eyes and grabs her book that she brought with her, reading it. Raven reads a lot, Murphy has figured out. One time he asked why, and Raven stopped talking to him for the day. He guesses it has sometime to do with why she’s here, so he never asks anymore.

A couple hours later, in the darkness of the night, they hear a noise. It sounds like bells ringing, and Murphy’s ears perk up. Raven looks up hesitantly from her book, and listens as the sound gets closer. The room lights up, Murphy and Raven quickly jump up, and look at the place where the light is coming from. There’s a man there, a man in a big red suit, and a huge sack of presents at his side.

“Santa?” Murphy asks, and at the same time Raven says ‘No way.’ The man turns, and smiles at the two kids.

“Well, what are you two doing out here so late?” The man says softly, crouching down as much as he can and looking at them. Murphy giggles and jumps up and down barley containing his excitement.

“We wanted to see you!” Murphy says, and Raven just stays quiet in shock. Santa turns to her and smiles, before standing up and looking at the tree.

Suddenly, the room is encased in light, strands of dust, that Murphy could only explain as fairy dust, fly around the room. Strands of it go into Santa’s bag, and pull out present upon present, and they all get stacked nicely under the tree. Suddenly, a necklace flies towards Raven slowly, it’s golden metal shining. Raven lets the light move her hair, and put the necklace on her. Murphy jumps up and down and smiles the whole time, watching as Raven picks up the necklace.

“Wait this… This was my mothers.” Raven says softly, looking down at the locket in her hands.

“Merry Christmas.” Santa says, and the strands of fairy dust fly back into a pouch at his side. Raven smiles down at the locket and then back up at Santa, her eyes filled with amazement and excitement. Murphy smiles at her softly, finally feeling his energy softly dwindle. Raven looks to Murphy with a huge smile on her face and then looks back at Santa.

“What about Murphy?” Raven asks, dropping the necklace so it lays on her chest. Santa smiles at her, and looks at Murphy who just keeps smiling at Raven.

“I think he got his biggest wish.” Santa says, before disappearing. Raven and Murphy gasp, completely amazed, before Raven sees a piece of paper lying on the ground, covered in glitter. She grabs it, opens it, and reads.

“Dear santa,

i've ben good all year, and i hope that makes u see im worth the trouble. i wont ask for much this year, but i do have one wish. It means a lot to me and i really hope its an okay thing to ask for. I know it might be hard to do since youre busy and you usually just give us toys and things but...

All i want for christmas is for raven to be hapy.”

#ry.original #the 100 #the100 #t100 #the 100 fic #the 100 fanfic #raven reyes #john murphy #santa claus #christmas fic #idk waht else to ta #g this #kjdsfklasdflk

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buckstaposition · 4 years

Text

I cling to your lips like gloss (1)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

now also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie (if u wanna come say hello on main)

rating/warnings: swearing, mentions of character death

words: 5521

Author’s note: dude this chapter fought me every step of the way but it’s here now so suck it, muses or whatever

---

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries (thank you sweeties whom I will hold forever in my heart)

(message me if you want to be added to the list)

Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1 - The Informant

'Liliana' the file said. I was tucked away in the locked bottom drawer of his old desk, the one he hadn't even had time to clear out when they'd sent him away. To be fair, Javier had only known to look because Murphy had called him to tell him about this informant. It sounded too good to be true. An informant coming to them of their own accord, ready to spill valuable inside secrets of the Calí cartel, and they didn't even want payment? One would be forgiven, in their line of work, to smell a trap. But Murphy had vouched for this one, and he trusted Murphy, knew that his partner (former partner) did his homework with due diligence. That, and the first batch of intel Murphy had brought back from their first few meetings had already proven invaluable.

There was apparently only one hiccup, and it was that the informant refused to talk to any agents other than him or Murphy. It had even led to Steve having to postpone his return to the States for almost two months, until it was clear that Javier would return to Colombia. Fair enough, he'd need to make up his own mind about them anyway. He collected the file and tucked it into the box that held all the stuff he'd cleared out of the desk, since he would now officially be moving a an office of his own.

Upon arriving in said office, he kicked the door closed and sat, lighting a cigarette and reaching for the file. As thin as it was, it still took him almost an hour to work through it, though half of the time was spent deciphering Murphy's chicken scratch mess of annotations. The rest was spent on making his own. After checking the time, Javier fetched himself a cup of the same old tar brew that passed for coffee here, lit another cigarette, and dialled Steve's new office number in Miami.

"Murphy."

"Alright, I've read the file." Javier started without preamble. Perhaps that was a bit short. He grimaced, then added, "About the informant. Liliana."

"Yeah, I figured." Steve exhaled probably puffing away at his own nicotine habit. Javier meant to quit, but kept pushing it off. The intent was all there was to it, at this stage. "So what're you calling me for, big boss?"

Javier elected to ignore the taunt, knowing it was friendly.

"You've met her. Is she legit?"

"Why, you smelling a trap?"

Pathological mistrust was a feature one acquired while on this job. Those who didn't ended up dead. Those who did would still end up dead, just later and more jaded. Either way you'd get a lot of other people killed on the way. "Just making sure."

They spent the next half hour and a bit going over the file together, comparing notes, catching up, thinking aloud - all of which were much easier to do when they had each other to bounce off of. It felt good, almost like old times. Javier went through close to a third of his pack of cigarettes, the air growing heavy in the windowless room. Just as well that it was almost time to wrap this up. A look at his watch told him that it was getting late in the day, and that Steve would want to get home to his family. All Javier could hope for at this point was avoiding resident CIA-asshole Bill Stechner on his way out, at least on this day.

"You won't be able to pull your usual shit with this one." Steve remarked, accompanied by the sound of shuffling papers. Javier bristled, even though he knew the things people said about him, both behind his back and to his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Knowing didn't mean it didn't, occasionally, sting, but he'd given up on trying to influence other people's minds long ago. A reputation once acquired was not easily shed, not that he'd made much of an effort to.

"It means that you shouldn't. Pull your usual crap with this one. For one I hardly think it'll be necessary."

"That would be new." Javier snorted. He could hear Steve's eyeroll through the phone.

"Still the same asshole-" Steve snarked. "I'm just saying be nice for once, especially since that woman's intel is the only reason you still have a job. She's a nice lady, so with a bit of luck some of that might even rub off on you."

"And I'm the asshole..."

"So everyone keeps saying."

"Fuck you, Steve."

"Go fuck yourself, Javi." Steve's chuckle told him it was all in good humor. "And don't fuck this informant."

"Yeah, yeah," Javier waved it off. The woman was an accountant, for fuck's sake. Note exactly his usual type. Or the type he usually attracted.

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

They were meeting at one of the small restaurants lining the edge of Parque Sabaneta in Medellín. Over the phone her voice had sounded... hesitant, above all else. Tinny, too, but he blamed the connection for that. And he'd brought her a satellite phone for future contacts; her driving out to remote phone cells and him waiting for calls after hours in his office just didn't cut it.

There hadn't been a picture in the file, but Steve's description had been quite accurate and Javier was able to pick her out at the table she'd chosen before making himself known. Dark hair and darker eyes behind large, slightly old-fashioned glasses. She was almost tall and hid her figure underneath loose-fitted clothing; today a flowy blouse and high-waisted dress pants, and a bulky cardigan against the spring chill that lingered even into the late morning. Her hair was pulled back into a low bun that reminded him of his fifth grade math teacher, Ms Jenkins. Javier approached the table.

"Diana Rivas?" She froze for a split-second before relaxing again, returning his greeting softly. In real life her voice was deeper than he would have anticipated, raspier too, but not unpleasant - the kind of voice one would expect first thing in the morning, just after waking up.

"I do hope your drive was not too tiring, Agent Peña." she said as he sat. He grimaced slightly. The drive had been long, above all else. Not his first choice of how to spend a Friday morning. Well, he'd endured worse for this job. But next time he'd definitely travel by plane.

"Do they serve decent coffee here?" Javier scrubbed a hand over his burning eyes and settled, resuming his assessment. She squirmed slightly under his unrelenting gaze, but squared her shoulders after a moment, meeting his gaze head-on and motioning a waiter over with a flick of her delicate wrist.

"Of course they do, this is Medellín!" She sounded mildly offended, then ignored him in favor of telling the waiter their order. Javier took the time to observe her further.

No make-up, no jewellery, save for a simple, functional watch and a small silver locket on a long, thin chain. No wedding band either, but the paleness and indentation around her ring finger still indicated that she'd worn one in the recent past. Her features were soft and feminine, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin, all making her look younger than she purportedly was. His gaze caught on her defined cupid's bow just a second too long. Her complexion seemed far too sunkissed for someone who spent most of their time indoors, in air-conditioned office spaces. In conclusion, undeniably lovely to anyone with eyes who cared to look, but obviously taking great pains to discourage closer scrutiny, to look as mousy and plain as possible. It worked, to a degree.

It occurred to Javier that maybe he should actually talk to her, since that's what he'd come here for.

"Do you always begin your interrogations with the silent treatment? I can see how that might be effective." She beat him to it, just before the coffee cups were set on the table in front of them.

"This isn't an interrogation." he groused, taking a tentative sip of the coffee. The scent of it alone was enough to wake the dead; it was heavenly. He'd have to see if he could weasel some halfway decent coffee out of his budget at the office.

"Regardless, I only have until noon today. We can meet again tomorrow; I can make myself available all afternoon for you, Agent Peña."

Javier huffed out a breath before taking another sip. "Why can you suddenly do Medellín anyway? You had Murphy travel across half the country to meet you."

She made a face at that, something between annoyed and apologetic. "My aunt, she... she's sick and been getting worse. I make the time to come down here every other weekend now to help her."

"And your employers are alright with that?" He hadn't exactly pegged the Calí cartel for employers of the year. Or to pioneer part-time models so their employees could care for sick relatives.

"As long as the work gets done, yes. It means I work ten to eleven hour days Monday to Thursday, but I am the only one left in this family..." She sniffled a little and swept the tips of her fingers under the plastic rim of her glasses, wiping at her eyes. Javier looked away, pretending it was to give her privacy. He imagined this unusually forthright woman walking up to Pacho Herrera to ask for reduced work hours so she could care for her aunt- That could really have gone either way, but somehow he thought that was probably not how it happened, or whom she'd asked. He just couldn't picture it. Maybe one of the brothers; they liked to style themselves as charitable family men, to a degree.

"Anyway, Medellín's closer for you, and we're less likely to be found out here. They like to keep security pretty tight in Calí. My friend Angelika calls it the Calí Stasi, and she's from the former East Germany, so she'd know."

He hummed in acknowledgement, his coffee almost gone and him almost feeling like a living human being again. He flagged the waiter down for another.

"In any case, I am glad that we can keep this to Spanish now. My English is not very ...confident." She prattled on, sipping from her own cup. Murphy had told him that she'd brought a dictionary to their first meeting, and apparently, with his former partner's dismal language skills, they'd actually needed it.

"I'm sure your English is better than Murphy's Spanish." Steve had told him as much, but then again, Steve's Spanish was shit, so it really wasn't saying much. There was something else niggling at the back of his mind.

"Why me?"

Her glasses slid down her nose half an inch or so in surprise at his -admittedly abrupt- question. "I'm sorry?"

"Murphy said you wanted to speak to me specifically when you first called. Why?"

She hesitated a moment, squirmed a little and averted her eyes, then pushed her glasses back up her nose before answering, softer than before. "Gabriela said you could be trusted."

"...Gabriela?" He said sharply, neck flushing at the thought of the beautiful redhead.

She shrunk in on herself, hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. Perhaps his voice had come out a little bit harsher than intended. He hadn't even thought that she'd actually tell him her real name. He'd just been a client after all.

"Yes," Miss Rivas breathed out, her voice so soft now that he had to lean halfway across the table to even catch it. "She's my best friend. We've been inseparable since the firts day of school. We tell each other everything. She told me she knew a DEA agent; that's why I told my cousin to go to her when she ran into trouble with Pablo Escobar-"

"Your cousin???" He almost roared. It came out as more of a whisper-yell, but she still flinched, eyes going wide behind the lenses.

"Yes, my cousin," she said carefully, "Maritza Rincón."

"Maritza–" he patted his pocket for a smoke and swore under his breath when he remembered how he'd left them in the car with the intention of advancing his 'quit smoking'-idea beyond idle talk. "What is this, a fucking trap? Very elaborate setup just to yell at me, missy. Unless you've got some buddies of yours here to–"

"What- what are you *talking* about? I don't blame you for Maritza's death!" By now people were staring. Not a lot of them, since it wasn't really the time yet for the midday crowd and too late for the morning rush, but the few pensioners and whatnot were definitely sensing the tension at their table. Javier gave up on his cigarette search and took a deliberate breath, willing himself to calm down.

"Maritza is dead?" He hadn't known that. He wasn't sure how he would have learned of it, but it still shocked him regardless. He looked over to see her fidget with her locket, lips pressed tight and trembling. Shit. Another informant on his conscience, fucking great.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-" he started, his voice catching. He bought himself time with his now lukewarm coffee, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know that. I-"

"It's alright." She whispered, in a tone of voice that clearly indicated it wasn't. She swept her glasses off with trembling fingers and pressed beneath her eyes, as if to restrain the tears that pooled in her lashes.

"I'm sorry." Javier said again, insistent, soft, sincere. "What happened?"

"We- I don't know. She called me to say she was in trouble with Escobar, and I helped her set up the meeting with Gabi."

"With me." He remembered that evening, that young girl sitting in Gabriela's apartment, ready to be sprung on him. Part of him had resented it; Gabriela had been someone he'd sought out to get away from the damn narcos and their dealings. Miss Rivas nodded.

"Yes. It was that idiot Jhon. He was one of the neighborhood kids. Growing up he'd always had a crush on her..." She talked a lot, he found. It should irritate him more, the way she'd throw in seemingly irrelevant asides without explaining further. Instead he only found himself worrying that someone so pathologically honest could not possibly keep the Gentlemen of Calí off her tracks, at least not if she kept spilling her life story so eagerly.

" ...and then she hid out on her uncle's farm again, where my auntie - her mom - grew up and went back to after my uncle - that's Maritza's dad - died of a heart attack. Auntie had been out for the day and when she came back- "

He can't bear to listen to it, but forces himself to anyway. In the sea of his regrets, what's one more? Besides, there's nothing else he can do for the girl now; the least he can do is witness how he failed her.

For all her unassuming bluntness, Diana Rivas is not one to hold back, even on unsavoury details. At least he doesn't get the sense that she does it to torment when she tells him how they found Maritza's lifeless body with her young daughter next to her.

By the end of that sorry tale, he has his head in his hands, Miss Rivas is still just this side of openly weeping, and all the other patrons have demonstratively averted their attention so as not to impose on what must, on the outside, look like an urgent case for a damned good couples' counselor.

"I'm sorry, I know this is a lot." And why in the hell is she apologizing?

"No shit." And yeah, he has to digest this before he can even think of making any attempt at non-destructive human interaction. "You couldn't tell Murphy any of this?"

She gave him a look.

"Yeah, alright. Sorry." More than just a language barrier, got it.

"I didn't come here today with the intention to relive this, you know?" She said archly. He supposed she had all the right to be upset. And he'd never had a meeting with an informant turn this harrowing, which was really saying something.

"I'm sorry." He said again, putting the weight of sincerity behind the words. Her hands were in the table now, fidgeting again as she sat slightly hunched over, staring into her coffee cup.

"Unless your government has a time machine to spare, I would prefer not talking about it again. At least not more than necessary." She replaced her glasses and checked her watch. "1 pm tomorrow?"

Javier nodded dumbly, already plucking a few bills out of his wallet to pay for the coffee. "Yeah, 1 pm is okay. Where?"

"Meet me at the church. Santa Ana. You know it?" He didn't particularly, as in he didn't know its name before now, but he could see the building's tall white facade from where they were sitting.

"Iglesia de Santa Ana, 1 pm tomorrow." Javier confirmed, rising as she did. The stared at each other for a moment, unsure of how to conclude this meeting, until she stuck her hand out for him to shake. He took her smaller, slender hand in his, squeezing it wordlessly.

"Until tomorrow, Agent Peña." She said, managing a sad little smile. "I hope you'll get some rest. You look like shit."

Javier bit down every one of the snarky replies that sprung to mind, not least because he knew it was true. His bags had bags and he itched for a smoke.

And to think, this was Murphy's 'nice lady'.

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

Somehow it hadn't occurred to him that at the church meant inside the church. Not until a very miffed face peered out between the heavy doors, giving him a look as he stood there smoking.

"It's barely been five minutes!" Javier defended himself, stubbing out the cigarette beneath his heel.

"It's 1:07pm." She informed him matter-of-factly, pushing the glasses back up her nose pointedly as she made to turn back inside. Javier caught the door, crowding perhaps a bit too close, but the damned thing was heavy.

"Sorry." He said simply, seeing no point in making a scene out of it. She had to crane her neck just the slightest bit to meet his gaze.

"Wait here, I'll be out in a minute." And with that she stalked off. Javi watched her sweep down the aisle, her hair and skirt fluttering behind her. She wore her hair loose today, the ends of it curling around her shoulders, and a simple off-white shirt dress that reached down to mid-calf. He let his eyes trail after her, leaning his weight more fully against the heavy wood of the door to lever it open. She walked around two thirds of the way down the pews before stopping by a... baby carriage?

She bent over it before carefully wheeling it around and starting back towards the door. Javier racked his tired brain. The file hadn't said anything about a kid. Married five years but no children. That didn't seem like the kind of thing one would easily miss, and he knew Murphy to be thorough in his inquiries.

"Who's this then?" He peered inside the carriage -more of a buggy really now that he got a closer look- and barely caught a glance of a dozing toddler with soft brown curls, while hoisting the door open wider to let her pass more easily. "Didn't know you had a kid."

"I don't." The buggy caught on the threshold and jolted, and a displeased cry came from inside it, making her curse under her breath. "This is Maritza's daughter, Salome. I've got it! Just- the door, just get the door!"

The last part of that came out high and sharp, much like the crack of a whip, and in direct response to Javier's attempt to swoop in and help heave the buggy over the worn-down threshold. He jolted back on instinct, grunting when the door swung squarely into his spine. Who the hell was responsible for all these old-ass church doors being solid enough to squash an actual living human between them?

After some fumbling they managed to make it out with most of their dignity still intact. Javier bent down and quickly shoved the bag he'd brought into the wire basket underneath the buggy's seat, next to her purse.

"Where to?" He asked, straightening up again. Miss Rivas still looked cross, her lips pressed together.

"Follow along. There are some secluded benches a little walk away." And off she was, leavin him to catch up.

"If your intention is to disguise this meeting as just another family enjoying the sun I suggest you slow down a little." Javier hissed under his breath. He'd actually had to jog a bit to keep up with her steamroller pace. She looked even more annoyed and declined to grace him with an answer, but slowed with a sigh that told him that this was indeed her intention. It was a smart enough plan, he wouldn't dispute that.

At least the kid seemed to have calmed from her little jostle-startle, seeing as she was now quietly babbling away as if narrating the sights. Javier tried to loosen his tense shoulders and to look like he was enjoying himself as they fell into step ambling along the walkways between the lush greenery.

"How old is she?" he asked, thinking that perhaps some small talk would ease the woman's sullen mood.

"Almost two and a half." Or not. Well, he tried. Javier wasn't exactly an expert with kids and none of his previous informants had ever shown up with theirs. Not that that would have been appropriate considering the circumstances. They walked for about a quarter of an hour, which Javier spent agonizing about how to smooth over the sudden mood change Miss Rivas was displaying compared to the day before. By the time they'd made it to their destination he was no closer to that goal.

She sat with a weary sigh, shaking out her flowy skirt before sitting and rolling her sleeves up to her elbows. It was much warmer today than when they'd met previously, only in part due to the later hour. Stiffly, Javier sat down next to her at a distance that instantly belied their 'family outing' cover. She turned to him after checking on the baby, peeling back the sunshade of the buggy to allow her to look around.

"You can smoke if you want to." Miss Rivas said offhandedly, her tone forcedly polite. Javier cleared his throat.

"I'm actually trying to quit."

Her lips quirked into a pleasant curve. "And how's that going?"

Javier sighed. "I'm thinking I might have chosen the wrong time."

"Or the wrong job."

The laugh that bursts forth from him is short, but not altogether hollow. "Yeah, or that."

"Very well, then you may not smoke even though you might want to."

Javier smiled. Couldn't help it, really. He had been worried that he'd somehow managed to offend her during their last meeting. He said as much, and she shook her head with a look of remorse.

"No, it's not your fault. It's just..." She pushed her glasses up and rubbed at her eyes, revealing the dark rings that had previously been hidden beneath the plastic rim. "Yesterday dredged up some things, and I didn't sleep well as a consequence. That always makes me snippy. And to top things of, this one," she leaned over to unbuckle the child and heave her into her lap, "was being fussy all morning, which didn't help. Sorry for being so short with you earlier."

"In this job, people usually shoot at me. It's alright, really. You're alright." Truth be told, he was glad she pulled herself out of this funk. Maybe she was as nice as Murphy claimed after all. The kid looked at him with large, round, strangely sage eyes. I got your mommy killed. I got your mommy killed and you had to watch. If he had gotten her that visa- The thought made him gulp, made him dizzy and nauseous and if there was anything to be glad for in this situation it was that he was already sitting down. Miss Rivas replaced her glasses and looked at him with furrowed brows. He felt like he was being read.

"I already told you that I don't blame you for Maritza." Javier tried his damnedest not to squirm underneath that discerning stare. Screw read, he felt like he was being flayed open. "Obviously you still blame yourself."

"Wouldn't you?" He shot back, defensive. She didn't answer for a moment, gently rocking the kid who had grabbed a hold of her locket and started to play with it.

"I have enough regrets of my own, Agent Peña." Part of him wants to scoff, even just to dispel the heavy moment, but the severity in her tone nips that impulse in the bud. Instead, he clears his throat and gestures to the buggy where he stored his bag earlier.

"I brought you something."

Her features soften into not quite a smile, but something close enough. "What a coincidence, so have I."

And then she hands him the toddler, who lets out a displeased cry at having her toy wrenched from her chubby hands in so unceremonious a manner, and Javier freezes as her squirmy weight is settled in his lap, only his hand shooting out to steady her on instinct. Up close her big brown eyes are even more enormous.

"Um, hi. Nice to meet you, Miss Salome. I'm Javier." He says awkwardly and is met with a pout. This is patently terrible and reminds him of the few times he'd been handed baby Olivia. She'd started crying instantly nine times out of ten. He hopes against hope that today will be a deviation from that norm. Salome considers him a long moment, blinking owlishly and making that certain kind of skeptical face that little kids so often do. He's had less tense moments in interrogations. He might be sweating in a way that has little to do with the midday heat.

And then Salome blows him a raspberry and dives for his wrist to investigate the shininess of his watch. And when he can breathe again he allows himself a smile. Of relief, mostly. In stark contrast to the smile Miss Rivas wears as she regeards them both, which is pure mischief with a dash of smugness.

"Well look at that. You passed muster, Agent Peña." Miss Rivas set both their bags down in the space between them, then leaned over to press a quick kiss to little Salome's soft curls. And Javier has been much closer to many women than this; his heart shouldn't lurch at the sudden proximity, the waft of her perfume or the light brush of her soft hair over his bare forearm.

"Ladies first." Javier gestured at the bags between them. She smiled and rummaged through hers, producing two thick stacks of folded papers, either parcel secured with a rubber band.

"Trade you?" she motioned at the girl, who was now intently examining the fingers of his right hand. Reluctantly, he let Miss Rivas pluck the small child from his lap and stand her next to the bench. Salome frowned adorably for a moment at having been interrupted in pulling his pinky finger off, then realized she was free to roam around and brightened instantly, hitting the bench a few times with chubby palms and babbling.

"Yes, of course I have your toy, sweetie." Miss Rivas said earnestly, presenting a brightly colored ball. Salome grabbed for it with a squeal, her momentum propelling her straight onto her backside. Miss Rivas turned back to Javier with that soft, fond expression still on her face and handed him one of the parcels.

"Do... did you want to go over this? While I'm here to explain things?"

"That complex, huh?"

"Well, it's a lot to do with creative book-keeping and tax law loopholes. It's more about how they structure their business to launder their incomes than anything else, but it'll still be helpful in building a case, no?"

It is, which is the whole reason he's been sent back here apparently. And while it's nothing the analysts back at the office can't handle (probably), he still likes being in the loop. And also maybe because he enjoys the sound of her voice. In any case he peels off the rubber band and unfolds the stack of papers, keeping a careful hand around it to ensure that nothing blows away in the spring breeze. Miss Rivas pulled out a pencil from her purse and shuffled closer. Close enough that he can smell her perfume again. - - - Over the following hour and a half Javier realized several important things:

One. Diana Rivas is likely one of the cleverest people he has ever met. By page eight his head is swimming with numbers, but her even explanations make even tiered corporate tax rebate systems sound fascinating. Even in his line of work, he'd never truly considered accounting to be the stuff of suspense, but she makes it sound like a thriller that even the brightest heads in Hollywood would have trouble coming up with.

Two. Having to do anything while keeping an eye in a rambunctious small child who is still learning to walk is a uniquely stressful experience. Little Salome is bouncing around the small patch of grass in front of the bench much like her ball, endowed with seemingly endless reservoirs of energy. She crashes into his knee a few times while chasing her ball or deciding that playing hide and seek underneath the bench is a better use of her time, and it puts him on edge that he feels responsible at all.

Three. The Rodríguez brothers make more than enough money from their few legitimate businesses to never have to worry themselves financially. Not that this had been in question, technically, but to see the numbers in black and white is still galling, even if he's not nearly as incensed about it as Miss Rivas seems to be. And while Javier is far from a religious man, he does consider greed that is levered with blood to be at least distateful.

Four. It's not her perfume he smelled earlier, but her shampoo, bright and fruity, with high notes of citrus.

Five. As long as this is all they have and all she can get, the DEA cannot make a move against the Calí cartel. His orders had been very clear on that. Nail them down beyond escape and make absolutely sure you get them into custody, in that order. It means that whatever Miss Rivas can reveal about the inner financial working of the cartel is valuable, but on its own won't be enough. As always in this job it's sorting through a haystack with a rake in search of needlepoints.

Which brings him to the next thing he needs to ask her. Needs to ask her to do for him, and the operation, to be specific, and he can already tell she'll say yes eagerly. Eager informants should be a blessing, but their eagerness seems to directly correlate with their likelihood of getting killed, or close enough.

"This is for you." He says instead, handing her the satellite phone. There's directions that go with it, but he takes the time to walk her through it nonetheless. Also his numbers, both office and home, just in case. He watched as she carefully tucked everything into her purse.

It's later in the afternoon now - past three - and Salome comes toddling over, handing Javier her ball and sitting down on the grassy ground with a world-weary sigh.

"Okay, time for your nap I think, young lady." Miss Rivas plucked the child from the ground and stood to deposit her back in the buggy, then holding out her hand to him expectantly. He hands the ball over after a split-second of dumbstruck hesitation.

"Well, goodbye then, Agent Peña."

He stood. Offered her his hand to shake, which she took. "I'll call you during the week. What time is good for you?"

"Any time between seven and ten. I'll probably be in Medellín again in a month. I'll let you know if I have more intel by then." He nodded, finally releasing her hand after realizing he still had her fingers clasped in his. She smiled and turned to leave, wheeling the buggy around from its resting position and onto the footpath. "Oh, and Agent Peña?" She turned halfway, throwing the words over her shoulder with a smirk. "Gabriela won't be available tonight, just so you know. We're meeting for dinner and general catching up."

His neck flushed hotly, both despite and because he'd had no intention of visiting her.

"Thanks," he said stiffly, "Give her my best."

"Will do!"

Shaking his head, Javier watched her retreat until she disappeared from view behind a bend in the path.

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

Further author’s note bc apparently I have more to say:

I’m gonna play a bit fast and loose with the timeline, because the show makes it look like Javi was sent back pretty much immediately and it only took those ~6 months to take down the cartel bosses, but in reality Escobar died in December of 1993 and the Calí godfathers weren’t arrested until summer of ‘95, so I’m sending Javi back to Colombia in the first half of ‘94 (April to be specific), meaning the time frame for this story is about a year

also I thought Maritza’s daughter in the series was still a baby, but upon rewatch it is actually stated in s2 ep4 that she’s two, and now I had to rewrite those parts. As to why she doesn’t speak, that’s actually something that will come up later and has nothing to do with my bad memory of the series. though tbh I probably assumed that because Olivia was a baby for like three years. (also according to the timeline I determined Maritza’s daugher would actually be between three and four at this point, but I’m going to disregard that. I’ve already had to age her up once and for the purposes of this story I need her to be still this little)

Chapter 2

#narcos (tv)#javier pena x ofc #series #I cling to your lips like gloss (series)#multipart #javier peña #narcos #narcos fanfic #javier peña fanfic #my writing #part 1 #like gloss tag

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songofsoma · 4 years

Text

Her Bleeding Heart

wayhaven week 2020 — day five: guilt/forgiveness @otomefandomevents

fandom: the wayhaven chronicles pairing: ava du mortain / cecilia beck

this is the sequel to her pale knight! which you can find here

read the full thing on ao3 (chapters 4 & 5 are the new ones :) )

Cecilia stared at herself in the mirror, fingers brushing over her throat.

The deep purple bruises had faded significantly, but the discoloration still lingered. As did the soreness. Between the brief pain and the resurfacing of the memories, she flinched and quickly withdrew her hand. Cecilia turned away from her reflection, terrified if she looked any longer, the pain of remembering would swallow her whole.

It had been almost two weeks since she had seen Unit Bravo. She had been back to the facility multiple times to see her mother and attend the therapy appointments Rebecca had set up. Admittedly, Cecilia had been avoiding the group of vampires. The thought of being alone with them had made her stomach knot in guilt-ridden fear.

In her heart, she knew that it hadn’t been Ava’s their fault, but that of the poisoned blood. Still, it had made the trauma with Murphy arise once more, even after she had tried desperately tried to swallow it down for months. She had been cracking before, but some places within her were shattered.

Cecilia moved from the bathroom, her fingertips trailing over a stack of old books on a table. The roughness of their covers grounded her, stealing her away from the memories threatening her.

The Agency had arranged for her to take some time off of work in order for her to recover fully. She wasn’t exactly sure what excuse they had given, but nevertheless, she was thankful. As much as she loved her job, it would have been just enough to push her over the edge.

She dropped heavily on to the old sofa in her living room, head dropping back against the cushions. At first, the quietness of her apartment had been a blessing. Now, it was a feeling of loneliness settling in the pit of her stomach.

As if sensing her despair, her phone buzzed.

Farah’s name popped up on the screen followed by a message:

Nat told me to give you your space, but I miss you and wanted to check up on you. Everyone here is no fun without you :(

Cecilia couldn’t help but smile softly. She and Farah had become incredibly close in their time together. Before the incident, they were constantly hanging out and plotting ways to subtly irritate the broody team leader.

I miss you too. Come over? I would appreciate the company.

It only took a few seconds for her to respond with an enthusiastic “YES.”

She chuckled, switching her phone off and tossing it next to her on the couch. It wouldn’t be long until Farah arrived. Luckily, her apartment was pretty clean so there wasn’t really anything she had to rush to do beforehand.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she breathed deeply, pushing away the nervousness. She had nothing to worry about and in her heart, she knew none of Unit Bravo would purposely harm her, but still, the memories lingered. They clawed at her mind, begging to taint her perception—Cecilia would not give in. She was better than this, she had to be.

Rustling sounded outside the door to her apartment. Confused, Cecilia’s brows furrowed. She knew Farah was fast, but she shouldn’t be here already. Surely not, right?

“Farah?” Cecilia called, standing up to head the door.

There was a panicked muffled voice from the other side accompanied by quick footsteps.

Now that made Cecilia hurry to the door, throwing it open. No one was there.

Stepping out into the hallway, her foot brushed against something left on her doormat. Her eyes widened when she looked down, seeing a stuffed bear and a bundle of lilies. Upon further inspection, there was a note attached to the flowers written in an elegant and familiar hand. All it said was I’m sorry.

The words made her stumble back a bit as she closed the door, clutching the gifts tightly.

Cecilia moved to the kitchen, laying the bouquet down mindlessly as if she were in a trance. Even though she knew it was Ava, it was still hard to wrap her mind around it. The fact of Ava going out of her way to buy her a bouquet of her favorite flowers and a stuffed animal brought a tinge of a smile to her lips.

She hugged the bear close to her, breathing in the unmistakable scent of Ava’s perfume that she had been wearing more often. It felt like she was really here with her. And Cecilia knew she wanted nothing more right then.

A knock at the door startled her.

Farah waltzed in a giddy look in her eyes. “Cece!” She squealed, rushing over to hug her tightly. “I missed you!”

There was a moment of hesitation from Cecilia at the touch, but it was enough to cause Farah to jump away from her, a look of regret in her eyes.

“Oh, I forgot! I’m so sorry, Cece,” she said quickly.

Cecilia shook her head, forcing a small smile to her lips. “Please don’t worry. I’m happy to see you too.” She took a step towards her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Now, what movie are we watching?”

***

The warehouse was unusually quiet.

It was unnerving to Cecilia as she walked the corridors. She had grown accustomed to smiling and waving at other members of The Agency as she passed by. The halls were normally bustling with life as supernaturals and humans alike both darted around, all on a mission.

Now they were bare.

There were a few she passed by. They smiled and waved at each other and continued on.

Maybe things were different now because she had been happier the last time she had truly walked these halls.

Cecilia sighed, rubbing her arm as she was lost in thought on the walk to the living area. It had been weeks since she had stepped foot in that room. The last time had been the night when Ava had attacked her.

She paused in front of the large wooden doors, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she stared. Cecilia knew that at least some of Unit Bravo would be there and that they could definitely tell that she was hovering just outside.

What if she was there?

It was doubtful because according to Farah, Ava had been isolating herself from the rest of the team since that night. Even Nat hadn’t seen much of her which didn’t sit right with her.

Finally working up the nerve, Cecilia pushed open the door to reveal the eager faces of three out of four of Unit Bravo.

“Cece!” Farah jumped up from her chair excitedly.

Nat looked up from a book she was reading, a kind smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Morgan was perched on the arm of the chair and even she looked pleased to see Cecilia.

“It’s good to see you, Cece.” Nat set her book to the side to greet her friend properly. She kept some distance between them, just in case she was not comfortable with the vampires.

Cecilia walked over to her, pulling the woman into a tight hug. Nat was a foot taller than her which meant she had to bend down to hug her properly. Neither of them seemed to mind too much. Cecilia was just grateful to be wrapped in the comforting energy her friend always exuded.

After taking a few moments to greet the other members present, she couldn’t help but allow her eyes to wander the room, mindlessly searching.

“She’s not here,” Morgan said, noticing her absent gaze.

Her eyes flicked to the vampire, watching as a long drawl of smoke leaked from her lips. “Oh,” she tried to cover up her disappointment. It was a poor performance, one that Nat caught on to almost immediately.

“I believe she’s in her room,” she piped in, a knowing look in her eyes.

Cecilia smiled softly. “Thanks, Nat.”

Nat nodded and distracted Farah just long enough for Cecilia to slip back out of the room.

The walk to the hall that hosted the bedrooms for Unit Bravo felt like she was climbing a mountain. Not because of the twists and turns or the distance, but because of the building anticipation in her chest the closer she got. Would Ava sense her approaching presence and bolt? Or would she refuse to see her outright? Unfortunately, both were likely possibilities that were residing in her mind.

She reached a hand up, playing with one of her earrings as she continued on, lost in thought. Thankfully, there weren’t too many people out or she was sure she would’ve bumped into someone. The quietness of the facility allowed her mind to turn over every possible situation—and that was both a blessing and a curse.

Finally, she stood before the last barrier physical between her and Ava. Just like when she was about to enter the living room, there was hesitation as her mind was flooded with doubts.

She dropped her head in, defeated by the urge to see her, and took a moment to listen for any sign of life.

Quiet.

Squandering down bits of fear, Cecilia knocked on the door gently.

There was no reply.

“Ava?” She called quietly. “Will you please open the door?”

Still nothing.

Cecilia furrowed her brows, frustrated by the silence. Curiosity got the best of her and she twisted the handle, it was unlocked. Perhaps she could leave her a note? Her fingers brushed over the pocket of her jeans. The note held within suddenly felt heavy.

The room was dark as the lights were off and the curtains closed tightly. She had been in here before, but her eyes still swept around the room, fascinated to see the side of Ava she kept behind closed doors.

It was plain. A lot of neutral colors and hardly any decorations. What little décor was present looked to have been placed by the people who originally set the room up. Still, the space was painfully tidy and to a stranger, it would seem to be unlived in. But Cecilia knew better.

There were hints of Ava throughout the room.

A magazine about classic cars laid on the desk, the corners of pages creased where she had seen ones she liked. Her signature aviators were attached to a pocket of her grey coat that hung neatly on a hook. As she moved towards the desk, she noticed something was sticking out of the magazine. She pulled at it, freeing a picture from the confined of the pages.

Cecilia’s eyes widened in surprise. It was a picture of her and Ava.

She recognized it immediately. Farah had secretly taken it while Cecilia was perched on Ava’s lap, smiling up at her as she was wrapped Ava’s strong embrace. In this photo, nothing could harm her. Her arms wound around her was the only defense she could ever need.

Had she printed it out herself? How long had she been hiding it?

Even with the question running rampant around her mind, she couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across her face as she stared, wistfully remembering how happy they both had been that night.

A low groan and the rustle of blankets scared her, causing her to drop the picture back on the desk.

Cecilia’s eyes darted around the room, finally falling on the bed.

She hadn’t noticed the covered form laying there when she first entered, and she hadn’t made a sound until just now. Cecilia had really been snooping through her room the entire time, thinking Ava wasn’t there. Even though Ava was asleep, Cecilia still felt her face grow hot from the embarrassment her assumptions could have caused her.

Ava was tossing and turning now, mumbling things restlessly. She swore she even heard her name amongst the incoherent murmurs.

As she approached the bed cautiously, Cecilia noticed she had kicked off all of the sheets and they were now crumpled up at the foot of the bed.

Without thinking, she sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at the sleeping woman with concern. She debated on leaving. This was a vulnerable position for Ava to be in and it was no secret the vampire did not favor people witnessing her in such a state.

Cecilia ignored her better judgment (what was new?) and reached out slowly, carefully resting a hand on Ava’s cheek, her thumb running over the soft skin tenderly. “Ava,” she whispered, trying not to alarm her.

Even with the added effort of trying not to startle her, Ava bolted upright, her hand capturing Cecilia’s wrist tightly. The icy green of her eyes was ablaze with liquid fire as they scoured for an absent threat, her chest heaving as her breath left her in heavy pants.

Finally, her confused gaze settled on Cecilia, her eyes widening more.

“Cecilia?” She gaped, immediately releasing the grip on her wrist. “What are you doing here?” Her breathing was still ragged, and she looked a mess, but Ava was too surprised to move.

The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “I’m sorry, you were having a nightmare and—”

Ava raised a hand to cut off her rambling, shaking her head. “What are you doing in here?”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her gaze moving down to stare at a loose thread on the hem of her shirt. “Nat said you were in your room. I wanted to see you,” Cecilia said with a slight shrug.

Ava let out a long breath but made no reply.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” The curtness of the answer made her flinch back. Ava gave a defeated sigh. “You do not need to worry about me.”

Cecilia frowned deeply. “But I do, Ava.”

Her stare was venomous. “Then you are a fool,” she sneered.

She bristled at the comment as she stood. “This was a mistake,” Cecilia sighed, beginning to walk to the door. “I knew you did not want to see me, but once again I was a fool and allowed my heart to tell me what to do.” She tried her best to ignore the tears swelling in her eyes and the way her heart was breaking all over again.

Ava’s hand caught her waist to stop her. She hadn’t even heard her get off of the bed.

“Cecilia, I’m sorry.” She withdrew her hand with a sigh. Cecilia didn’t miss the way her hand flexed as it dropped back to her side. “I just…” Ava trailed off, looking unsure of what words to choose.

“I thought I had lost you,” she finally settled on a way to articulate her thoughts. “If I had hurt you again, I would have never forgiven myself.” Her hands clasped behind her back as she began to pace. The broadness of her shoulders was stiffer than usual, the thin straps of the tank top she wore showed off how tense she truly was.

Cecilia crossed her arms in obstinance, watching her silently.

“I have not stopped thinking about that night since it happened. What I did to you, how I injured you!” She only paused her pursuit of wearing holes into the floor to look at the fading bruises on her neck. Cecilia shifted her collar, suddenly self-conscious. “After Murphy, I swore to protect you and I failed. You were wounded by my hand. You are better off without me.”

Ava stared, expecting some sort of reaction—but the enormous eye-roll Cecilia gave was not was she had planned for.

“So this is about your pride?” She snapped fiercely, backed by the anger that had been boiling in the blood beneath her skin. “Your honor? Your duty?” Cecilia scoffed, shaking her head fitfully. “Have you ever stopped to consider what I want, Ava? Or is your head so far up your own ass that you can only think about yourself?”

The vampire’s jaw dropped as the words all but slapped her.

“How many times are we going to do this? Me getting hurt and you running off, blaming yourself for not ‘doing better.’” The last words were aided with air quotes. “You can’t save me every time, Ava. When are you going to realize that? What I need is for you to be there for me when I need you most! So why don’t you quit your pity party and help us catch the fucker who poisoned the Agency’s blood supply?” By the end, her entire body was shaking, and a weight had been lifted from her chest.

Ava’s eyes looked as though they may bulge out of her head. It was truly rare that Cecilia would get so angry. She usually was a sweet-tempered person. But she had had enough. If ripping Ava a new one was what it took to get through to her, then that was what she would do.

Cecilia took a step forward, noticing the wary look seeping on to the vampire’s face. “Please, Ava, don’t give up on this. I need you.”

Ava closed the distance between them, practically smothering Cecilia with the tightness of her embrace.

She all but melted into her arms, allowing herself to be held for as long as Ava would have her. God, she had missed her terribly.

“I swear to you,” Ava murmured into her hair, “I will do better by you.”

“Then prove it to me,” she whispered as they pulled away from each other, only for Ava to gently grasp her chin as she pressed a kiss to her lips. A sweet, long kiss—one they could both savor.

Ava’s fingers grazed her cheek to tuck a piece of dark hair behind her ear, hand lingering at her throat. Cecilia shivered, delighted at the small touches.

“I will, I swear.”

She smiled, satisfied with the answer. “I know.”

44 notes · View notes

beeerayborn · 3 years

Text

1:Is there a boy/girl in your life?

Yes, Johnny Lee Arrington. <3

2:Think of the last person who hurt you; do you forgive them?

I forgive but never forget.

3:What do you think of when you hear the word “meow?”

a fucking cat.

4:What’s something you really want right now?

to be skinny already.

5:Are you afraid of falling in love?

I’m happily in love.

6:Do you like the beach?

the beach is my life.

7:Have you ever slept on a couch with someone else?

yes.

8:What’s the background on your cell?

Johnny and I.

9:Name the last four beds you were sat on?

Just our bed.

10:Do you like your phone?

love it.

11:Honestly, are things going the way you planned?

Never does, Iol.

12:Who was the last person whose phone number you added to your contacts?

Damon, Johnnys biffle since he got a new number.

13:Would you rather have a poodle or a Rottweiler?

rotty!

14:Which hurts the most, physical or emotional pain?

emotional.

15:Would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum?

zoo.

16:Are you tired?

Kinda.

17:How long have you known your 1st phone contact?

Aaron Murphy and since 2006.... lol

18:Are they a relative?

no.

19:Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes?

hell no.

20:When did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with?

an hour ago.

21:If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today?

Planning our marriage soon!

22:Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

he’s the only one I want to kiss.

23:How many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now?

none.

24:Is there a certain quote you live by?

Hakuna Matata.

25:What’s on your mind?

how much I miss the kids.

26:Do you have any tattoos?

two.

27:What is your favorite color?

blue.

28:Next time you will kiss someone on the lips?

when I get home from work!

29:Who are you texting?

Johnny.

30:Think to the last person you kissed, have you ever kissed them on a couch?

yes!

31:Have you ever had the feeling something bad was going to happen and you were right?

all the time.

32:Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to?

Johnny, my love.

33:Do you think anyone has feelings for you?

Well, he wants to marry me so yeah.

34:Has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes?

yes.

35:Say the last person you kissed was kissing someone right in front of you?

I would kill him.

36:Were you single on Valentines Day?

no.

37:Are you friends with the last person you kissed?

yes, my best friend.

38:What do your friends call you?

b or br or britt or beeray

39:Has anyone upset you in the last week?

yes.

40:Have you ever cried over a text?

yes.

41:Where’s your last bruise located?

i dont have one.

42:What is it from?

.....

43:Last time you wanted to be away from somewhere really bad?

now.

44:Who was the last person you were on the phone with?

my mom.

45:Do you have a favorite pair of shoes?

obv

46:Do you wear hats if your having a bad hair day?

47:Would you ever go bald if it was the style?

48:Do you make supper for your family?

always

49:Does your bedroom have a door?

yes

50:Top 3 web-pages?

tumblr, facebook and pandora.

51:Do you know anyone who hates shopping?

no.

52:Does anything on your body hurt?

53:Are goodbyes hard for you?

yes

54:What was the last beverage you spilled on yourself?

no idea.

55:How is your hair?

healthy.

56:What do you usually do first in the morning?

kiss my dogs and sometimes johnny.

57:Do you think two people can last forever?

yes

58:Think back to January 2007, were you single?

no, i had a boyfriend.

59:Green or purple grapes?

green

60:When’s the next time you will give someone a BIG hug?

when I get home.

61:Do you wish you were somewhere else right now?

yes.

62:When will be the next time you text someone?

I don’t know, when you get older you barley text.

63:Where will you be 5 hours from now?

home!

64:What were you doing at 8 this morning.

at work.

65:This time last year, can you remember who you liked?

Johnny.

66:Is there one person in your life that can always make you smile?

yes

67:Did you kiss or hug anyone today?

yes.

68:What was your last thought before you went to bed last night?

I wanted to stay awake to watch AHS.

69:Have you ever tried your hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?

yes

70:How many windows are open on your computer?

just one

71:How many fingers do you have?

ten

72:What is your ringtone?

dont have one

73:How old will you be in 5 months?

74:Where is your Mum right now?

no clue.

75:Why aren’t you with the person you were first in love with or almost in love?

he fell out of love with me.

76:Have you held hands with somebody in the past three days?

yes

77:Are you friends with the people you were friends with two years ago?

yes

78:Do you remember who you had a crush on in year 7?

bobby

79:Is there anyone you know with the name Mike?

yeah

80:Have you ever fallen asleep in someones arms?

yes

81:How many people have you liked in the past three months?

Just Johnny.

82:Has anyone seen you in your underwear in the last 3 days?

yes hehe

83:Will you talk to the person you like tonight?

live with him so always.

84:You’re drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with?

my friends

85:If your BF/GF was into drugs would you care?

yes

86:What was the most eventful thing that happened last time you went to see a movie?

being with good friends.

87:Who was your last received call from?

scam.

88:If someone gave you $1,000 to burn a butterfly over a candle, would you?

yeah

89:What is something you wish you had more of?

ambition.

90:Have you ever trusted someone too much?

all the time

91:Do you sleep with your window open?

92:Do you get along with girls?

yes

93:Are you keeping a secret from someone who needs to know the truth?

94:Does sex mean love?

95:You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem?

96:Have you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring?

97:Did you sleep alone this week?

98:Everybody has somebody that makes them happy, do you?

yes

99:Do you believe in love at first sight?

yes

100:Who was the last person that you pinky promise?

johnny.

1 note · View note

travllingbunny · 4 years

Text

The 100: 7x02 The Garden

I love this episode. Mostly for the beautiful and emotionally complex Octavia-centric flashback story, for all the exciting revelations about the nature of the Anomaly and time dilation and the overall story of this season (all the exposition was done in a surprisingly natural way and never bothered me), and the way the two timelines were interwoven. It says a lot that I wasn’t even bothered by the lack of Clarke or Bellamy - or the fact that this episode featured only 6 characters (plus some extras in suits), one of which was a deranged minor character we’ve never seen before. Episodes focused on a small number of characters and plots often feel more coherent.

Comparisons between The Garden and Eden are obvious, the two even have basically the same title, and many similarities and contrasts, so I rewatched Eden yesterday, and I’ll be writing a post about that episode soon, too. I rewatched the entire show just before season 7 started, but season 5 is the only one I’ve never written reviews of, so this seems like the right occasion. it will also be interesting to rewatch Red Queen after this.

One of the things that I noticed rewatching season 5 is how well the cinematography has been used in seasons 5, 6 and 7 and how it differentiates different worlds. The ruined Earth in season 5 was mostly in sepia, yellow and grey tones, looking like a gloomy desert - except for Eden, which had normal colors. Sanctum has bright colors - it’s beautiful, but a little too colorful, almost psychedelic, dangerous. Skyring in this episode mostly seen in soft light and blueish-green colors - a peaceful paradise.

Or is that a prison? A solitary/house arrest? I love this duality - it can be both. The most beautiful place can be a prison that drives you insane, if you’re all alone.

One garden, two serpents

Isolation is a theme we’ve seen on The 100 with many characters: Clarke was in a solitary for a year, distracting herself with drawings, then alone roaming around for 3 months, then forced to spend 6 years on a deserted planet, but she was only completely alone for the first 2 months, when she was fighting with nature and lack of food and water as much as with loneliness, and she was talking to Bellamy every day - who couldn’t even hear her - and hoping to see him again. Murphy was alone for 3 months in a fully stacked bunker on Becca’s island, but comfort is no help when you’re all alone, only have one and the same videos to watch and music to listen to, and you don’t know if you’re getting out. Octavia was the Girl Under the Floor for 16 years, and she had her mother and brother, but no one else; then she was locked up for a year; and after all the fighting, including the 6 years in the bunker with 1200 people she ruled over (which was maybe the time when she was more lonely than ever!), she ended up spending 10 years of her life on a planet with a family of two people - again - and no one else, and - just as when she was a child - with little hope that she will ever have a chance to meet anyone else. And here we see the effects of a prolonged isolation from everyone else, with poor Orlando (that’s what he’s called in the end credits), the prisoner who dug out dead bodies and used a creepy doll just to have an illusion of friends.

Unlike Clarke in 5x01, Octavia did not have to struggle with loneliness or fight to survive, but the paradise in which she had accidentally ended up in was also a prison of sorts, since she could not get out of it and was likely to spend all her life there, without ever seeing her brother or any other people, except for Diyoza and Hope. Like Clarke, Octavia found a family, and a child to take care of, but unlike Clarke, Octavia did not become a little girl’s adoptive or substitute mother.

The title evokes Diyoza’s line from 5x13: “One garden, two serpents. Eden never stood a chance.” Instead, they got to have their paradise here, until Octavia’s attempt to send her brother a message brought the Disciples from Bardo there to capture them. I’m not sure if that was a bad or a good thing - since that was probably their only way out of Skyring.

(There’s also a literal garden in the episode, and this was the first time we saw Octavia farm the land since 4x09, when she learned how to do it on Ilian’s farm. That was the last time Octavia tried to escape her darkness by having an idyllic farm life and a relationship, at least for a few days before the end of the world comes, but her past came back in the form of those people who recognized and attacked her - and she realized she wasn’t cut out for peace and rode into Polis looking for a war. She wasn’t ready at the time to give up violence. In season 5, she insisted that “Farmers won’t save the world, warriors will” - which Monty proved wrong. And now, Octavia has become a farmer.)

But Octavia’s paradise was forced on her, and it was clear that she and Diyoza didn’t really feel the same about living the rest of their lives on Skyring. The difference is, Diyoza doesn’t have anyone else in the world she cares about - everyone she once cared about has been dead for centuries. and she has given up on trying to change the world. She obviously wanted to do it once, when she was fighting “the fascist government who tried to take my home” and blowing up buildings, but she’s now tired of the violence, after being a terrorist/rebel, then a prisoner of a big corporation, again a rebel fighting against that corporation to save prisoners from being left to die just because they were deemed expendable, then she led another war - which ended with her baby-daddy destroying the Earth, and now she’s tired of the violence and wants to have a different life in peace with her daughter, who she didn’t even want to teach fighting of any kind. She’s also content to live without ever reuniting with the rest of the human race. Maybe partly because she was quite hurt to learn that she was supposedly in history books as one of the worst people ever. (Which she really shouldn’t have taken seriously - since it was Russell who said it, so these “history books” can only be Sanctum history books, written by Russell or his family members or other Primes. They left Earth around the time when Diyoza was just arrested, so it’s unlikely they even knew what history books said about her in the next few years - and even if those history books said so, they would be history books written under the same government Diyoza was fighting against.)

Octavia, on the other hand, still has other people she cares about in the world, most of all her brother. Not only did she leave a time when she knew Bellamy and others are likely to be in danger from the Primes - and she had no way of knowing they had learned the truth about the Primes by themselves - but they parted on bad terms and with unresolved issues and with no catharsis, and Bellamy would probably be left thinking she really died when he left her on Alpha - instead of learning that she did resolve her issues and find peace. She didn’t know that her attempts to get back the way she came, through the lake, would never work - if she had succeeded, she would have probably ended up on Bardo instead. Ironically, only when she made peace with the fact she couldn’t go back and sent a letter in a bottle, it ended up alerting the Disciples - but it all eventually resulted in Octavia ending up back on Sanctum in the same place she left (whether she escaped and came back from Bardo or through some other planet?), and got the chance to tell Bellamy in person that she understands him now.

There’s some ambiguity about Octavia’s relationships with Diyoza and Hope - at times it seems that Octavia is Hope’s co-parent: she lives with them and is closely involved in raising Hope, after all - not exactly like an aunt who just occasionally visits and plays with the kid. All three of them are shown as a close family unit. However, Octavia does not see herself as Hope’s mother - nor does Hope see her that way. She is “Aunty O”. Hope has a mother, and not an absent or inattentive one, but someone like Diyoza, fully focused on raising her daughter. Octavia and Diyoza may be seen as sisters - with “Aunty O” and Octavia telling Bellamy in the letter that she loves her like she loves him even though she’s a ‘pain in the ass’. Or they could look like “an old married couple”, as Diyoza called them back in season 6 when they were finishing each other sentences.

(But if we’re supposed to think that Octavia’s and Diyoza’s close relationship never got sexual in any way, in spite of the fact they lived together for 10 years without any other adults around and with almost no hope they would ever see another adult, then I guess one or both of them is really extremely heterosexual, real 0 on Kinsey’s scale. If we’re supposed to think that. Technically, we don’t know for sure.)

Anyway, this ambiguity of whether Octavia was a co-parent to Hope or not has caused some debate on Twitter about what degree of responsibility Octavia exactly had towards Hope and whether she was allowed to leave her. But even if Octavia is seen as a co-parent, I don’t subscribe to the idea that every adult, especially a woman, who comes into the situation of taking care of a child must immediately forget about all other relationships, concerns and desire and subjugate their entire life to taking care of that child. Especially when it also means that the child will be isolated from the world at large. I didn’t think it was healthy when Bellamy’s whole life revolved around protecting Octavia, either, or when Clarke, after escaping Polis in season 5, thought for a moment that her and Madi living all alone, as they did during those 6 years, would be an OK future for either of them.

Octavia may not have thought the whole time dilation through (yes, it’s quite likely Hope would be old or die before she returned from Sanctum with the other people, since she’d need time to find Bellamy and others, explain things to them and back them go back, but she still had hope (no pun intended) that both she and Hope could have more of life than and was still fighting to make contact with her people on the other side. Diyoza may have been right about the time dilation, but how did she imagine Hope’s life was going to be in the future? Yes, if Octavia left, Hope would end up alone after Diyoza died. But if Octavia stayed, Hope would still be left all alone after Diyoza and Octavia died, and never got a chance to meet anyone else, have any other kind of life, be a part of the human race.

One may argue Diyoza was being selfish, trying to keep Octavia there, and she certainly did take away Octavia’s choice and forced her to stay. Though, in her defense, she thought she was saving her life - but it was still was one of those “I’m making choices for you because I know what’s best for you”. And it wasn’t her whole motivation - it was mostly about wanting to keep Octavia there as a part of their family unit. Octavia called her out on the fact that it wasn’t all about Hope, it was about their relationship, too. Which certainly seemed emotionally intense, with Diyoza being hurt and sort of jealous at the thought that Octavia would leave her and Hope and that she may love her less than she loves her brother.

The episode played a lot with the parallels between Octavia and Bellamy, with O using what she had learned from Bellamy to take care of young Hope the same way. And the parallel between Octavia and Hope as “Girls Under the Floor” were even more obvious, even before Hope literally had to go under the floor to hide from the Disciples. That would put Diyoza in Aurora’s role and Octavia in Bellamy’s. It’s not a perfect parallel, as Bellamy didn’t have any other strong attachments to anyone or any other family while Aurora was alive. But, while Aurora seemed to have no other vision for the future except focusing fully on hiding Octavia, Bellamy tried to give his sister an opportunity to meet other people and live a life - by taking her to the dance - and Octavia was similarly the one who wished to bring other people to Skyring and was giving Hope the hope (!) she would meet them.

The Three Stooges and the Anomaly

(Thanks @jeanie205 for that moniker LOL) The one thing that brings down this episode (I’m taking away half the point from it) is the very unlikely degree of plot-induced incompetence that the trio of Hope, Echo and Gabriel displayed throughout this episode - so they could get stuck on Skyring, maybe for 5 years:

Hope knew the bridge was under the lake - she should have known the note could get washed up!

How come Hope didn’t know there was more than one door to the cabin? Or if Orlando built the other door, or someone else who was there while she was away, how come none of the trio noticed that other door?

Even the windows looked big enough for someone to come in. Why didn’t at least one of them stand guard in the cabin? Or at least somewhere close where they could see what’s happening in the cabin? Why were they both sitting somewhere outside? They weren’t even close to the door. Did they think Orlando could only come into the cabin from one direction?

Why didn’t Gabriel take the memory viewer with him when he ran out? Come on, dude, that’s one of the most important things you have there, and you know there is a deranged guy outside, and you just leave it there?

Still, I enjoyed this part of the story, too, especially with all the new info we got - which got me speculating the whole week - see my theories here.

Gabriel is so adorable as an old man scientist in a young body and even the fact he is more interested in the Anomaly than in any living human is kind of endearing. We also got a glimpse of the nerdy young doctor who was once crushing on Becca before going to the mission and meeting Josephine.

Echo is finally starting to justify her main character billing this season, getting an actual storyline rather than tagging along around Bellamy, and she is already a much more enjoyable character. She hasn’t actually changed much yet - but she’s now put in the position as an audience surrogate, wondering what the heck is going and asking question like “Where is Bellamy?” while Hope and Gabriel spout exposition (they do it so well though that you don’t even mind it). It helps a lot that she’s not around any of the Spacekru, so we don’t have to deal with the forced “we’re all close family due to the 6 years off-screen, which we spent in utter boredom and without any actual dangers we’d have to deal with” dynamic. Instead, now a character she’s interacting with (Hope) and Echo’s own hallucinations are constantly calling her out on her past actions, which helps fix the issue that season 5 created - the impression that Echo is the one character who doesn’t have to deal with the consequences of her past actions, with her past being simply waved away with “they spent 6 years with her and she’s now one of the good guys” (Although, while I like Hope calling Echo out, Hope got it wrong - Echo didn’t kick Octavia over the cliff after stabbing her, Octavia tripped and fell. But that’s not the first time in the show the writers Octavia has misremembered an event.)

This will be the second time Echo is stuck somewhere in a peaceful place with just a few people for 6 5 years. How much of this will be off-screen? It certainly helps that we’ve already seen her interact with Hope and Gabriel in two episodes, and the dynamic between Hope and Echo is developing, with Echo starting to comfort Hope when Hope showed vulnerability behind her fast-talking snarky exterior.

Echo still doesn’t seem ready to “face her demons”, since her reaction to her own hallucination telling her she’s still just a killer and asking her who she is if she doesn’t have someone (Bellamy) to follow, was to ignore it and try to kill people and now swear she’ll kill everyone she needs to in order to get to Bellamy. But I assume this is just the beginning of her long overdue character development.

Was there significance to Echo plucking the flower and then looking at the sky? Was it simply her starting to appreciate the beauty of the planet? t It reminds me of how Clarke was touching the flowers in Eden in 5x01.

Other observations:

Technically, I guess this episode was really Hope-centric, since she was the only character in both timelines.

I’m not sure what exactly the scientific explanation is for Octavia’s arm healing the moment she got to Skyring. How does the whole temporal flare thing work?

"What is it about Bellamy that makes otherwise sensible women willing to die for him?” - I see what they did there. I bet this is a hint about what the focus of a lot of this season is. Hope meant Echo and Octavia, but we know that Clarke’s storyline will also soon become about looking for Bellamy “her missing people”, “her family”, “people she loves”. On the other hand, I’m not sure how much it makes sense for Hope to ask that - she must have heard Octavia’s stories about Bellamy, so she’d know what it is about him that’s so special - his devotion to those he loves and how ready he is to do anything for them. But maybe Hope felt some of that same jealousy Diyoza did, or her mom’s jealousy rubbed off on her, because Octavia kept trying to get back to her brother.

It’s interesting that Octavia named “Bellamy, Clarke and Madi” as the main people she wanted to bring here. She didn’t mention Raven or Miller (as she would if she was talking about the Delinquents as a family going back to season 1, or even her mentor Indra, or friend Niylah. Just Bellamy and Clarke and Madi - as a part of her family she wants to bring. There’s no reason why she’d see Madi as her family but not Indra, so this definitely seems like Clarke and Madi are seen as Bellamy’s family and a package deal in Octavia’s eyes. (And that’s before she even witnessed what happened in 6x10.) Not that surprising considering Octavia’s “another traitor who you love” comment from 5x08 and her dislike of Echo. Ironically, almost killed all three of them as Blodreina, which is maybe also a sign of how much she’s disconnecting from that role - even though she hasn’t gone through her 6x09 Face Your Demons hallucination yet.

It turns out Octavia was older than Bellamy in 6x09-6x13. The green box was probably her peaceful life on Skyring that she did not remember. But the red box was the unfinished business with her past. It seems that she was changed psychologically by her time on Skyring even without remembering it.

Hope is now the third child raised on stories about the Delinquents. Little Hope liked Murphy, just like Jordan did during his “rebellious phase”. Madi, however, was an Octavia fan.

I guess Orlando saw Hope’s name written on the door, since it doesn’t seem they ever met before. But where did the creepy doll come from?

If prisoners all end up insane as he did - and they probably do, after such long periods of complete isolation - that’s a really messed up way of making people into “true believers”, by breaking them completely. A solitary confinement that’s years long? Cruel.

The Bardo symbol (Phoenix) was seen in the bucket and bottle Octavia was using, which proves that the Bardo people had already been on the planet before Octavia and Diyoza ended up on it.

If Orlando had no one else to dig out, I guess they always make sure to bring the prisoners back after they’ve served their sentence. But they probably killed Dev. I hope we get the story about Dev and Hope in flashbacks. Seeing what his facial expression was at the time of death, that guy certainly didn’t die a natural death.

The Becca cameo was cool, and this was a whole new face of Becca, kind of cheeky and funny. But her comment that time dilation is “sexy as hell”... um, OK, Yeah, how lucky you get to “get to the future faster” and possibly die before getting a chance to ever reunite with anyone else you know? To be fair, she did not expect all the others in the mission to die and leave poor Colin on his own.

Gabriel “had to be sure she (Josephine) was really gone”. But maybe a part of him deep inside hoped she wasn’t..

So the Anomaly was already there when Colin Benson crashed on the planet. Hmm... that seems to go against my theory that the Anomaly Stones were made by humans at some point during the previous 230 years, but I’m still not giving up on it. Eligius 3 must have travelled longer to Skyring, if it is so far away from Earth and Sanctum, I don’t think that “Beta” meant that Skyring was the second stop of Eligius 3 - maybe the planets were graded by how good conditions they had for human life. Which would put Sanctum and Skyring at the top, but Sanctum was closer. And with all sorts of time shenanigans going around, maybe there’s some way that the Anomaly Stones could have been placed there by humans. I just can’t believe that it was really some alien race millions of years ago, especially with the Anomaly symbols looking like Greek letters, many of those used in physics or math, the gender symbols, and the infinity symbol is there, too.

This was one of the rare episodes of The 100 where no one died. Though we did learn about some people’s past deaths.

Rating: 9/10

#the 100 #the 100 7x02 #the garden #the 100 season 7 #octavia blake #charmaine diyoza #hope diyoza #gabriel santiago #octavia x diyoza #echo kom azgeda #bellamy blake #madi griffin

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