#her phone takes better pictures than mine so she helped with the last four images lol

[thalassata]

i made seal plushies

[velvetcloxds]

LEAVE ME BREATHLESS| D.H.

Pairing: Derek x fem! Reader

Word count: 2135 words

Warnings: none, just fluff

Summary: Reader attends her senior prom with her friends, however she can't really enjoy it as her boyfriend Derek is in Mexico searching for Kate, luckily though, Derek is full of surprises.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Stiles asks in a rush as he comes into my room. His eyes scan the bed quickly as he sees my dress and shoes scattered onto the duvet. “We had to leave half an hour ago.” He informs me and he ignores the obvious frown on my face as he walks over to the bed to pick up the dress. I groan loudly as I wipe the rest of my makeup off, ignoring his dramatic gestures behind me.

“I’m not going, Stiles.” I tell him and he makes no trouble to hide his shock, his mouth opening to protests as he steps towards me, throwing the dress over his shoulder as he touches the back of my chair.

“I don’t understand that sentence,” He announces and spins my chair in the same breath. “I refuse to understand that sentence, considering the fact that you’re the one forcing us to go,” He pauses to drape the dress over my knees and smiles encouragingly. “Now, enough of the dramatics, get dressed.” I sigh.

“Stiles.” I groan and he ignores this, pulling me from the chair and softly pushing me into the bathroom with a stumble.

“Dress and shoes, I’ll wait out here.” He tells me and I contemplate objecting for a sweet second, but cave instead.

He’s right for pushing me to get dressed, because I did in fact force everyone to go tonight. Prom in the middle of a crises seems out of order, but it’s the last time we’ll all be here together and it’s important to make memories, even if only for one night. Besides, it's Beacon Hills, there is never not a crises at hand. Although I hadn’t realized until now that I’d be going stag among all of my couple friends. And I certainly didn’t realize that the one person I want to be here isn’t.

“There she is!” Stiles exclaims with a large smile as I emerge from the bathroom. “Shoes,” He says as he holds them out for me. I take them, lifting the layers of my dress high enough to slip the heels on and out of the corner of my eyes I can see him stuffing multiple makeup products into his blazer pocket. He smiles when he sees me. “Lydia will help you in the car.” He informs me and I have just enough time to grab my clutch and some perfume before he starts pushing me out of the room and towards the jeep.

“You look amazing.” Lydia tells me as we reach the jeep. I smile, pushing a curl behind my ear as Stiles opens the back door for us to get in.

“Yeah, you’re both gorgeous. Now get in,” He rushes and Lydia rolls her eyes before jumping in, with me following suit. “Makeup.” Stiles says as he hands us his blazer over the seat, starting the car in the same movement. I smile over at Lydia as she removes everything from the pockets, looking over at Stiles through the mirror every few seconds where his eyes already wait for hers.

It doesn’t take long for her to get going. Applying everything in the correct steps, stopping briefly when Stiles gives her the bump warning. I sit still through the process, my mind slipping away from reality as I let her do her job.

“Glossy or Nude?” Lydia asks and I realize we’ve stilled in front of the school. She holds up two lip-gloss tubes for me to choose from and I reach forward to take the glossy one, knowing it’ll be much less of a hassle to reapply. “Good choice, we’ll wait outside.” She tells me, squeezing my hand before getting out of the open door that Stiles holds on to.

“Hey man!” A new voice yells from across the parking lot and I peak out of the window to see Scott and Malia walking hand in hand towards the jeep. I smile to myself and then use my phone as a mirror to quickly put of the gloss.

“Where’s Y/n?” Malia asks just as I get out of the jeep and her face lights up when she sees we’re both wearing black.

“You look very pretty.” Scott tells me as he leans in for a quick hug and I smile before following the four of them into the school.

I swing my clutch over my shoulder and allow my fingers to tangle into the little charm on my necklace, my heart swooning over to the hands that clipped it on for me a few months ago.

The gym hums with excitement as everyone moves in somewhat of a rhythm to the song that the band is playing. The decorative balloons begging to be released from their strings to the ceiling. A large collection of different coloured lights flickering on beat against the walls.

“We’re going to dance!” Malia yells over the noise, harshly grabbing onto Scott’s hand and pulling him towards the dancefloor. Scott just smiles as he allows her to lead him away.

“Do you girls want something to drink?” Stiles asks already backing up towards the snack table and Lydia just smiles as she shakes her head to tell him no. He looks at me and I mimic Lydia’s gesture which causes him to nod quickly before walking off.

I look over at Malia and Scott who are both waving us over to join them. Lydia smiles. “You coming?” She asks leaning in. I look from her to the dancefloor and I really don’t feel like jumping around and shuffling against other people right now.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room really quick and then I’ll join you.” I tell her, leaning into her as well so she can hear me. She looks me over for a second, probably checking to see if I’m okay and then nods before walking away. I wait for her to reach them before turning around and walking to the door we just came in through. I just got here and already I feel like I need some air. I bend down to take of my heels and hold them in my hand as I walk over to the school sign, pushing myself up and placing my purse and heels next to me.

Senior prom. It’s one of those milestone nights, one to remember forever. Physically I’m ready, but my mind is far away from the glitter and the punch. My mind is with Derek Hale and so is my heart.

I reach into my purse and pull out my phone, unlocking it quickly to dial the number of the motel he’s staying at in Mexico. It rings a few times before a loud beep tells me that he’s not in his room. I sigh before adjusting myself on the wall and bringing the phone closer to my ear.

“Hi,” I say almost too softly, I pull my knees to my chest, the dress draping around me. “I missed you again. We can’t seem to get this scheduling thing right. I just wanted to hear your voice, I guess,” I smile as I look up at the stars. “I’m at our spot right now, thinking of you in a suit and a tie. You look handsome by the way,” I close my eyes to picture it, but shake my head when the image starts to drift. “Anyway. Call me back when you can. I miss you.” I put the phone down next to me as I continue to look at the starts, swallowing down the tears in my throat.

“Now, you know damn well that I don’t wear ties.”

“Derek?” I question softly, my voice shaking with excitement at the very idea of that voice in fact belonging to my goofball. He laughs lightly and now I don’t even have to think about it to know that it’s him.

I turn myself around quickly, meeting his gaze for a brief second before losing my balance and slipping from the little wall. His laughter continues as he moves to catch me, getting hold of my hand just in time to stop my untimely collide with the concrete. He pulls me against him to steady me and despite the countless times we’ve done this, I still need to catch my breath. My cheeks burn as I feel his eyes moving over my body taking his bloody time to look at every single feature.

“Beautiful.” Is all he says as our eyes meet and my lips tilt upwards as a natural reaction to his presence. I move my hands from his and carefully reach upwards to touch his face, hovering for barely a second before softly cupping his cheeks. My smile grows.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, his hands folding around my waist to keep me close.

“I missed you,,” He informs me, like it’s just that simple. “Stiles called.” He continues and I can’t decide where to rest my eyes as he speaks. “He said you weren’t acting like yourself this week and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why,” His thumbs trace the stitching of my dress. “And I wasn’t exactly doing any better on my end, so here I am.”

“I was losing my mind without you here,,” I tell him, my heart beating in my throat as he smiles down at me. He tilts his head to look at me even closer and I almost instantly look down. “When do you have to go back?” I ask after a moment of silence and I feel his body tense against mine, letting me know that it’s a lot sooner than I’d want. He sighs, his hands tugging me closer.

“Let’s not think about that,” I look up to see him grinning brightly, his eyes almost sparkling as he stares at me. “We have tonight. I can hold you in my arms and hear your voice,,” He kisses my nose, the suddenness of the gesture making me giggle. “I get to hear that intoxicating little sound,” He exhales slowly. “We have tonight.” He tells me softly and his voice drifts as he leans in, I jump away from him quickly, mischief on my mind as I back away from him.

“Would you like to dance?” I ask him and he groans loudly, eyes telling me exactly what he was about to do. I laugh softly.

“Not exactly.” He pulls a hand through his hair and a glimmer of frustration rests in his raised brow.

“Come now, it’s my prom night after all,” I take hold of both his hands. “Are they playing a slow song or a fast song?” I ask him and he shakes his head at me before closing his eyes to listen.

“Slow…” He says and I smile, part of me being glad that I don’t have to stop being so close to him after all.

“Is that so?” I muse, the tone of my voice prompting him to open his eyes and without missing a beat he pulls on my hands until I’m once again held firmly in his embrace. I giggle again, something I realize only happens so naturally when I’m with him. Our hands shift into place and I tangle my fingers together behind his neck. His arms dangling loosely as his fingers fold around my sides.

“I might just enjoy this after all,” He informs me with a silly little smirk as he guides us to a rhythm only he can hear. We sway in silence for a while, my face against his chest and his chin on my head. “I don’t know how I went on so long without you,” He says suddenly, lifting his head so I can look at him. “It’ll be downright impossible to do it now.” He tells me, bringing out bodies to a halt as he lifts a hand to my face, his fingers stroking over my cheeks slowly. I close my eyes as the sensation captivates my senses.

“I know what you mean.” I say softly, sliding my hands down his blazer where I rest my fingers against his chest.

“I love you,” He tells me and I open my eyes. He uses his thumb to lift my face, a smile filling his lips when he looks at me. “Say it back , won’t you?” He asks playfully and I smile as well, my heart swelling with pride.

“I love you, too.” I tell him and he laughs.

“Again.” He tells me, looking over me as he waits for me to say it.

“I love you too.” He laughs again, softer this time. Happier.

“Yeah…” He kisses me quickly, not nearly long enough to make up for the time we’ve been apart, but the way he looks at me leaves me breathless. He rests his forehead against mine. “I’ll never be able to leave you again.”

Hi there, more of my imagines can be found on Wattpad under @mjoubertt. Mxx.

[blazedgraysons]

Love Don’t Cost A Thing

Grayson buys you a car, Twitter stans are mean, and Grayson’s really good at making you feel better. 

A/N: this is part 1 of fics I wrote a month ago, forgot about and finally finished. this started out as a simple fluff and idk what happened. also let’s pretend that Grayson still has a wrapped porsche because I could totally see him wanting to match. 

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: horribly written smut and a lot ofme pretending I know about nice cars

God, some bitches will do anything for clout nowadays.

Honestly, when will Gray wake up and realize she’s just with him for his money?

What a fucking gold-digger.

Gold-digger.

That word rings around your head as you continue to scroll through the replies from Grayson’s latest tweet, each one nastier than the last. You sniffle, wiping your tears and locking your phone, before turning to look at your boyfriend through the bedroom window. He’s outside talking to Ethan excitedly over a car, not just any car but a 2021 Porsche 911. A car he bought just for you.

He had approached you earlier this afternoon with a broad grin. As easily excitable as he is, this didn’t feel out of the ordinary to you, so you simply raise an eyebrow while continuing to sip your coffee.

“Are you finished with your final yet, Y/N ?” He whispers out of caution that you might still be testing.

“Two more questions, then I’m all yours baby. What’s wrong?” A sense of worry washes over you since you know he wouldn’t interrupt you unless it’s crucial. He’d grown accustomed to your new routine since the pandemic began. After asking (begging) for you to quarantine with him, he soon realized that the time he thought you two would spend together was taken up by quizzes, essays, and exams as you finished up your senior year of college. While he was more than willing to take second-place to your studies, he was a little antsy for you to be finished.

“Nothing. I just wanted to show you something out in the shed.” Now, this you do roll your eyes at. While you were occupied with studies, he was out in that godforsaken tiny shed almost every day. Secretly, you were glad Ethan had foregone the bed idea because that was the only thing getting him to come to bed to you every night. You assure you’ll be out in a few minutes and shoo him away to finish the test that will ensure your bachelors.

Only twenty minutes later, you feel as if a crushing weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. You crack your neck before sighing and closing your laptop, elated that the four years of your undergrad were finally behind you. You pull out your phone before remembering your promise to Grayson. You walk out the back kitchen doors and turn the corner, not expecting what was behind it.

Your mouth drops. Sitting in front of you is a shiny, white Porsche complete with a giant red bow on the hood. Your boyfriend sits on top of the back seats, dressed in a blue button-down and black slacks. Grayson’s beaming as he holds a bouquet of roses out towards you. You try to think of something, willing anything to come to your brain, but shock leaves you speechless so you start tearing up instead.

Grayson, mistaking your tears for anger or sadness, is by your side in a minute.

“Angel, what’s wrong? Do you not like it? I wanted to wrap it to match mine, but Ethan said it was a bad idea. But- but we can always go to the dealer and switch it out if you don’t like it or I can -“ He stammers, immediately worried that he had disappointed you. You cut him off with a deep kiss, relieving any worry that was flying through his brain as he grabs your waist to hold you closer.

“No, it’s perfect. You’re perfect. Everything’s perfect. But why?” You question.

“Well, I wanted to do something special for you since you finished school today. And since we can’t travel anywhere, I figured this was the next best thing. You’ve worked so hard these past four years, Angel; I just wanted to show you how proud I am of you and how much I love you.” He explains, scratching the back of his neck nervously. Your heart melts at this. While you had expected maybe a five-star dinner and hopefully some marathon sex, you had no idea your boyfriend would do something so extravagant for you. Never in your wildest dreams did you believe someone would care for you like this, and adoration begins to fill your entire being.

“Grayson, I- I don’t know what to say.” You’re astounded, and every time you look at the car, you’re speechless again.

“Hopefully that you like it. It was kind of expensive.” He jokes, now reassured that your silence is a good thing and not out of anger. You swat his chest before wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. Just as his hands start to slip towards your ass, you pull away from him.

“Thank you, Grayson. For the car, for letting me stay here, for everything. I don’t deserve you-“

“Don’t start with that.” He cuts you off, leaning in so your foreheads are touching, “You do plenty for me, and if we’re honest, I don’t deserve you. You’re beautiful, intelligent, funny. There’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for you, and you can’t change that.” Before you can even respond, you notice Ethan making his way out through the back door.

“Yo, what are you two still doing out here? Don’t you have reservations at six?” He yells out, towel over his shoulder and obviously not expecting the two of you to be interrupting his future tanning session. You turn back to your boyfriend, confused as Grayson sighs exasperatedly and looks up to the sky.

“I haven’t told her about that yet, dickhead.” Grayson yells back to his brother.

“Well, can you hurry up? I want to lay out for a bit, and the weather app says it’s supposed to rain at four.” Ethan asks. You can’t help but giggle, knowing Ethan’s just oblivious to the very intimate moment you and Grayson were having. Grayson huffs, annoyed that his brother is ruining his plan before turning to you.

“I booked us reservations at Il Cielo.” Your eyes widen at the mention of your favorite restaurant.

“But how? It’s been booked for weeks. We couldn’t even get in for my birthday.” You question.

“The owner’s daughters are fans, so I promised a couple pictures tonight in order to get a table. Now go get dressed, we can take your car if you want.” He explains. Images of you two dressed up while Grayson drives the new Porsche fills your mind and you slightly shiver. Grayson, raising an eyebrow to your reaction, leans down for another kiss with you. Right when Grayson’s tongue enters your mouth is when you hear the fake-retching coming from the other twin.

“Bro, go away!” Grayson groans, holding you closer to him. You’re both leaned up against the car as you turn to watch the interaction between the two siblings.

“Fine. But first, let me get a picture of the happy couple. You’d kill me if you didn’t get to flex how good of a boyfriend you are.” He says, grabbing his phone. Grayson moves to argue, but you silence him, posing for the camera instead. You both smile, looking happier and more in love with each other then you’ve ever been. And you can’t help smiling wider when you see the tag and pictures on Twitter.

It only took a few minutes before the hate comments started flooding in. You had set your phone down for a quick shower but returned to notification after notification. It was non-stop dm’s, tweets, and even responses to IG photos from 2016 about how you weren’t good enough for Grayson, how you were just using him, and how he would eventually find someone better.

Usually, you could just ignore it, turn your phone off and turn a blind eye to the negativity spewed at you. But you were already emotionally overwhelmed, and you couldn’t help the small part of you that agreed. What had you done to deserve a man who could drop thousands of dollars on you at a whim? You weren’t impressive, weren’t an influencer or a model, just an average girl who managed to catch his eye.  

Your phone screen starts to blur as tears form in your eyes. You try to stop the burning feeling in your throat. Still, fat tears begin to roll down your cheeks onto the screen as you start sniffling, falling victim to your deepest insecurities. You were so caught up in yourself that you hadn’t even noticed Grayson making his way down the hall.

“Y/N, are you almost ready? We have to leave for the restaurant soon.” He yells towards his room, making his way to you before noticing your sobs. You look up at him before sniffling again, feeling sorry that he had to see you like this.

“What's wrong, Angel?” He asks gently, moving to sit next to you on the edge of the bed. He wraps an arm around your bare shoulder, careful not to move the towel you had wrapped around you from your shower.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be ready.” You attempt to reassure, moving to wipe the tears from your eye. You wince, noticing how unbelievable you sound even to yourself, and you can already tell Grayson is unconvinced.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” He asks. You nod, not meeting his eyes, looking down at your lap instead. He softly grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his intense stare. “So, what’s wrong?”

“God, it’s really nothing. Some fans on Twitter had just tweeted me some stuff and -“ Before you could even finish, he’s grabbing his phone to look at the replies, nostrils flaring as he reads what fans had mentioned you in.

“It’s honestly nothing, G. I was just being overdramatic.” You promise, wanting to drop it at this point and continue with the perfect day you two were having.

He’s silent for a second, which worries you more than anything since he always has something to say. You rub his thigh, trying to comfort him before he grabs your hand.

“You know none of that is true. There is no one better, never will be. My future begins and ends with you.” He whispers, sounding even more hurt than you. You stare at him widely, dumbfounded at the bold confession Grayson just dropped on you. Taking your silence as disbelief, he moves your hand towards his mouth so he can start kissing your wrist.

“Believe me when I say, Y/N, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. “ He growls, dropping your wrist to move in front of you. “What can I do to get that through your head?”

With that, he grabs your head roughly, bringing you into a hot kiss. You immediately whimper, wrapping your hands around his neck to pull him closer to you. His tongue slides against yours desperately as he rips your towel off you, tossing it carelessly over his shoulder.

You pull away from each other, panting with desire and trying to catch your breath as Grayson goes down to suck warm, wet kisses onto your neck.

Moaning his name, you move to unbutton his shirt shakily while he continues to move down your neck to your chest. You shrug his shirt off before scratching your nails down his chest as he takes one nipple into his mouth.

Twirling the other nipple in his fingers, you arch into him before he’s switching to the other one and repeating this process. He continues like that for a while until you moan and whimper underneath him, trying to grind up into his lap.

“Grayson, please. Touch me.” You mewl, hips bucking when he drags a finger through your slit. Grayson sucks the mess off his finger before looking down at you darkly, hazel eyes turning a deep brown. He kneels down, spreading your legs and placing his large hands on your hips to hold you down. He places soft, open mouth kisses on the apex of your thighs and meets your gaze before speaking again -

“Mine. You’ll always be mine. Nothing can change that.” He promises. You clench around nothing, feeling like you could cum just from his words of reassurance. He notices how you react and sharply inhales.

“Fuck, so pretty.” He breaths out, and you’re not even sure you’re supposed to hear that, watching Grayson lose himself in the desire to express how deep his love runs for you.

He spreads your lips apart with two fingers before licking at your clit softly. He licks it again before pulling you towards him with a long, slow lick watching as you fall apart.

You already knew this was going to take no time on your end, but watching his intense gaze on you causes you to produce more and more wetness, to the point where you feel like you’re leaking onto the mattress.

He stops at your clit, circling it a few times with his tongue before taking it into his mouth. He suckles on it, watching as you fall back onto the mattress with a high pitch whine.

“Grayson.” You moan shakily, moving to get closer to his mouth.

You start rolling your hips onto his face, grabbing your tits to ground yourself somehow. Your moaning consistently now, not knowing how else to convey how good he’s making you feel other than with high-pitched sounds.

He places his arms under your thighs, pulling you closer to him, and starts making out with your pussy, savoring every sweet drop that comes out of you. He sucks harder before pulling back and rubbing at your clit with two fingers.

“So good, Angel. Perfect for me.” He gasps, lips swollen and red. His mouth is dripping, and he shakily runs a hand through his hair before diving back in.

He focuses on your clit this time, sucking hard while reaching to slide two fingers inside of you. He drags them back and forth, feeling you clenching down hard on him.

“Grayson, I’m so close.” You moan, getting louder and louder as he continues to flood your body with pleasure. He sucks on your clit even harder before dragging his fingers against a specific spot, and you’re suddenly overwhelmed with white-hot pleasure. You scream as your orgasm rolls through you in shockwaves, simultaneously pulling away and trying to get closer to him.

He doesn’t take his mouth off you and groans loudly at how your pussy pulsates in his mouth. He notices he’s grinding in the air and presses a palm down to relieve some of the pressure in his pants.

You lay there with an arm over your eyes, taking ragged breaths trying to calm yourself down. Grayson finally removes himself from you and goes up to lay next to you, stroking your hair and moving your arm so you can look at him.

“Never has a man ever made me cum that hard.” You mutter. He laughs at that before he turns to kiss you softly, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips and tongue. His kissing grows sloppier and sloppier until he’s slotting himself in between your thighs.

You reach down to unbutton his pants and pull them and his briefs down as far as you can until he leans back to remove them altogether.

He gets back in position, kissing you some more while his rock-hard cock brushes up against your thigh. He grinds into you as you pull away from him.

“Gray?”

“Yeah.” he murmurs hotly, continuing to grind into you.

“Fuck me, please.” You purr.

He breathes shakily and lines up with you, rolling his hips into you slowly. You both moan at the first thrust, his guttural and deep and yours high-pitched and whiny. He slowly grinds into you one, two, three times before picking up and thrusting into you properly.

He grabs one of your legs, placing it over his shoulder, allowing him to reach inside you deeper. He speeds up, overwhelming you with the relentless snap of his hips.

“Grayson.” you cry as he reaches down to rub your clit. He groans, unsure whether to look at your aroused eyes, your bouncing tits, or how effortlessly his dick enters and leaves your pussy. He tries to look at all three before groaning, “So fucking hot, Y/N.” He leans down to kiss and suck at your neck before growling in your ear, “Don’t give a fuck what anyone says. You’re so perfect for me. So wet and tight.”

At this point, he’s speaking incoherently. So overwhelmed by how well you’re taking him that he’s saying anything and everything that comes to his brain. That doesn’t stop his words from going directly to your clit, and you moan loudly at his words, begging for him to fuck you harder.

He does as asked, and it isn't until he leans down to kiss you again that you feel your second orgasm hit you like a freight train. You cry out while you dig sharp nails into his back, riding out your orgasm as he continues to pound into you. His thrusts stutter as you clamp down on him like a vice. He continues to roll his hips while cursing lowly into your ear.

“Cum for me, G. Please. I need it.” You whisper while scratching lightly up his back, hoping this will edge him on to finish. Sure enough, his hips stutter as his dick swells before hotly cumming inside you.  He groans out loudly, rocking his hips slowly into you before coming to a complete stop. He lays down on top of you, grabbing a blanket to cover the two of you.

You run your hands through his hair as he softly kisses your forehead.

“I love you, no matter what. Don’t listen to Twitter.” He confirms, sleepily. You hum in agreement, kissing his neck as a response.

“I love you more.”

You both are quiet, the silence lulling you to sleep before Grayson is rapidly jerking himself out of you. You look at his wild expression, concerned.

“Fuck, I forgot about our reservations.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Soldier Boy (Part 3)

Summary: The reader and Dean take a hike and she opens up to him about her true intentions and what that means for the both of them...

Masterlist

Pairing: Superhero!Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,700ish

Warnings: language, mentions of death, angst

A/N: Enjoy the final part!

____

“Dean,” you said the next morning, waiting in his apartment as he rushed around in his outfit. “We going to be fighting crime on our hike?”

“No. Sorry my meeting ran late this morning. It sounds like I might be getting closer to getting into The Seven, fingers crossed,” he said.

“That’s great, babe,” you said. He stepped out of his room in a pair of tan pants and a black shirt, a baseball cap on his head. “All set?”

“After you.”

“Look at that,” he said, stopping along the trail a few hours later. You looked out at the valley below, taking a few pictures of the gorgeous sight.

“How’d you find this place? It’s not on the map.”

“Been around awhile,” he chuckled. He started to walk again but you simply stuck your phone in your pocket and crossed your arms. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

“I need to tell you something and I’d rather you find out now,” you said.

“The you working for Billy Butcher thing?”

You swallowed and turned around, Dean looking strangely not upset.

“I saw him last night at your place. I know about him, what he does. But I’d rather hear in your words what you wanted to share,” he said. You nodded and bit your bottom lip.

“I was supposed to seduce you, get you feeling comfortable around me. When you’d fallen for me enough, I’d bring you in and Billy would question you, figure out what you know about anything and everything. He figured you’d have a broken heart and have no fight in you. After, he was going to dispose of you,” you said.

“Why have you come after me?” he asked. “You’re smart and strong but you’re not trained.”

“It’s personal for me. My brother was a big fan of yours,” you said. “Big fan. He was quite a bit older than me. He started to look into where you went and your family’s accident and he disappeared one day and never came back. I was four when we went missing. I know Vought had him killed. I know you’re why he loved superheroes. You were his favorite. His research paper for a college class got him killed. It ruined our family. Billy found me as a pissed off senior writing my own paper on you. Recruited me and taught me a few things, told me when I was a little older we could make our move.”

“I’m sorry about your brother. I didn’t-”

“I know you didn’t, Dean,” you said. 

“Why are you telling me all of this?” he asked.

“Cause I don’t want you to get hurt,” you said as you looked down. “Billy always said I was naive and too soft for this and he’s right. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you though. I like you. You’re not this image I had in my mind and even if you used to be, you fucked up and you’re trying your best to be better. I can’t be mad at you for that. I’m so done with being mad. I just want to be happy and you made me that way this past week getting to know you.” You turned around and looked out at the valley again. “Just do whatever you’re gonna do to me and get it over with.”

“Okay,” he said. You heard him behind you and readied yourself to get pushed over the edge or him to break something or snap your neck. 

A hand grabbed yours and pulled you close into his chest as he spun you around, a pair of soft pink lips kissing you. You looked up and he smiled, wiping his thumb under your wet eyes.

“Sweetheart don’t be scared of me. I’m so tired of people I love looking at me like that. I’m not gonna hurt you. Ever. You told me the truth and that’s all that matters.”

A small part of you was still expecting him to push you but he walked you over to the other side of the path and sat you down on a large boulder beside him.

“I don’t want to work for people that would kill someone to hide my past. The world thinks my family died in a car accident. I need to set the record straight myself.”

“They’ll never let you in The Seven if you do that.”

“I don’t want to be in there with people like that. I want to be good and I don’t want anyone else getting hurt because of me. I’ll put it out there and then I walk. I can walk away.”

“Won’t they come after you?”

“I can blend in very easily. We can come to an arrangement,” he said. “They’ll never want me back and that’s fine. I can be good without a stupid costume.”

“You shouldn’t be alone, Dean,” you said. 

“I think your friends will be as happy with you as mine are with me. We can go, anywhere you want, we’ll go,” he said.

“What happens when I get older and you don’t? Or if this is just...if it’s not something more?” you asked.

“We could try and fix that. It doesn’t bother me. I want you to be somewhere safe is all. It doesn’t have to be with me if you don’t want.”

“I have one last question. If you knew about Billy last night, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I probably deserve whatever he has in mind for me. I’ll share whatever I know with him through you but I don’t know much honestly. I guess part of me hoped you’d tell me the truth yourself. Got lucky there.”

“You used to be a dick. It doesn’t mean you deserve what he was planning,” you said. He was quiet and you sat together for a few minutes, Dean staring out at the trees. “Somewhere with lots of trees. Somewhere far away from the city, that’s where we should go.”

“I’d like that,” he said. 

“Are you upset with me?” you asked.

“Not really. You’re giving me a chance. The very least I can do is return the favor,” he said.

“Can you show me the rest of the way?” you asked as you nodded up the trail.

“Yeah. Then we can go back to your place and figure out where to go from here.”

Six Months Later

“Morning,” you said, sipping on a cup of tea on the front porch. Dean shook off the rain on his coat as he stepped under the roof, smiling as you nodded to the cup sat behind you. “Out saving damsels?”

“Mrs. Riddenbaum’s cat was stuck in a tree. Again. I swear that woman sends the cat up there on purpose just to see my ass while I climb,” he said.

“Can you blame her?” you teased. He sat down in the chair and drank from his cup, shutting his eyes as he leaned back. “You okay? I heard you get up middle of the night, didn’t come back.”

“Today’s the, you know, day stuff happened,” he said.

“Wanna talk about it?” you asked.

“I think they would have liked you. The kids would have at least,” he said.

“Would you ever want a family again?” you asked.

“I’m open to it. I need my head on a little straighter first it that’s alright.”

“It’s always alright,” you said. “Saw on the news they made an anti-compound V as part of the settlement for supes. You can give up your powers if you want to.”

“They contacted me last night,” he said. “I’m gonna do it.”

“You sure? It could kill you. You got the dose when you were older than the rest.”

“I was born human. I’d prefer to go out that way,” he said. “It should allow me to get old naturally now. If you think it’s too risky though I won’t.”

“Dean it’s your life. I’m part of it but you gotta do what’s best for you.”

“I’ll get back in touch with them, take the settlement. I’m ready to move on with my life, stop being a soldier.”

“Okay,” you said. You held your hand out to the side and he took it in his own, rocking back in his seat with a smile. “Thanks for saving me that night.”

“I’m sure you had it handled,” he teased. “Powers or not, I’ll still watch out for you.”

“I would expect nothing less,” you said. “Want to go for a hike after breakfast?”

“You sure? It is raining after all.”

“A little gloom never bothered me,” you said. He smiled and gave your hand a squeeze. “You’re everything my brother wanted you to be you know.”

“Being a hero is the easy part. Human, that’s harder. I’m getting there though,” he said. “Alright. I will cook us up some pancakes and eggs while you finish waking up, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” you said, letting a quiet yawn escape. You burrowed down into your seat, Dean standing and kissing your temple before he headed inside. “Hey Solider Boy.”

“Yeah?” he smiled.

“Told you you’d be a good guy.”

“I had some help. Don’t stay out too long. You’ll catch cold.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said. “I’ll wear my thermals for the hike.”

“Good girl,” he said. He went inside and you took another sip of tea, smiling to yourself. 

“I’m so happy you wound up being good, Soldier Boy.”

_________

[leigh-kelly]

Completions and Connections: Quarantine Christmas

So 2020, huh? Ugh. Santana and I had started the year amazingly, with Tyler turning a year old and me kind of setting up a schedule that let me go on assignment more than I had in his first year—though, so much less than I had before I had a wife and a son to want to be home with. Things were good...and then they weren’t. But obviously everyone can relate, you know, it didn’t happen in a bubble or anything.

I was in Sweden when Santana called me utterly freaking out. Because I was always pretty isolated from the news when I was traveling and she hadn’t seemed especially worried about COVID until shit hit the fan, I was taken almost entirely by surprise. She told me that it looked like everything was going to shut down, she didn’t know what was going to happen with the borders and she wanted me to come home as soon as possible. Honestly, in hindsight I should have had her bring Tyler to Sweden where there was actually a competent federal government, but obviously that’s not what happened.

I called my boss immediately and within hours, I’d abandoned my shoot and was on a plane bound for New York. Nothing else really mattered to me except getting home to them and since everyone was in a collective state of what the fuck, no one even argued with me about it. Two days later, Discover pulled all of their foreign correspondents anyway, so I pretty much got out just in time. We figured it would be two weeks, a month maybe, and then things would get back to normal. Little did we know how wrong we were.

Back in New York, things were...weird. People packed up and left the city in droves, everything looked abandoned and I immediately wished that we had a place in the mountains that we could go to. We probably could have bought something, that was true, but Santana had her practice and we both knew she wouldn’t abandon that, she’d worked too hard for it.

Yeah, so speaking of that. Tyler’s daycare shut down with everything else, I was home indefinitely, but my wife, my beautiful, amazing wife, still had to go to work every day. That was the scariest thing for us, knowing that she could be exposed at any given moment, knowing that she could bring it home to Tyler and I. We knew she was as safe as could be, she stockpiled PPE on a regular basis because she dealt with disease anyway and was super precautious about protection, but we couldn’t help but wonder if it would be enough. For two days, we discussed whether she should go stay with Unique and isolate from us, but Tyler was still nursing and we thought it would really mess him up if she was gone. We had no idea if we were making the right choice, but it was a choice we had to make.

Everything was a major adjustment. Tyler and I had to learn a new routine during the day where I pulled ideas from Pinterest to do with him and ordered about a zillion boxes from Amazon full of activities. I took him out on walks in the early morning before people were outside, letting him breathe the fresh air when it was safe and taking pictures of the empty city, figuring at some point Discover might want them for a series and quite honestly, missing being behind the lens of a camera. I learned to bake bread, I made elaborate dinners and I fought so much boredom, remembering every day that it was better to be bored than dead.

It was different for Santana though. Though she wasn’t working with diagnosed COVID patients, she never knew what was walking through her door. Each night, she came home with marks under her eyes from her N-95, a band indent around her head from her face shield, and her face just so tired from doing the best she could to provide her patients with care in the midst of everything else. So I held her tight, I told her how much I loved her, how proud of her I was, but that didn’t help on the nights she heard that a patient had died, that didn’t help when she heard from contact tracers that someone had been to her office who tested positive and she shut herself up in the guest bedroom away from Tyler and me and waited anxiously for her latest round of test results.

But onto the more positive, our boy absolutely thrived. Turns out I was kinda good at the whole stay at home mom thing and I was glad that I found fulfillment in that. Plus, I wasn’t halfway around the world when he took his first steps, didn’t miss him say “mama” for the first time and all of that good stuff. We FaceTimed with my parents and Santana’s all the time, made sure they got to see him grow. When things got a little better in the summer, Tina would join us on our walks with her son and the two boys would babble away to each other from their respective strollers. And most importantly, we learned to look for the good, we tried to ignore the worst in people and see the best because it was really the only way we could get through it.

Christmas was three days away and though we wouldn’t do our customary dinner with Santana’s parents, she and I were still really excited that our boy was in love with the lights on the tree, that he was big enough to sit on the counter with us while we made Christmas cookies, could sit through half of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer before he got fussy. Maybe Christmas was really different then it had ever been before—and Christmas was obviously so important to Santana and I—but that didn’t mean that it couldn’t still be magical.

“Office is officially closed until December 27th.” Santana burst into the house that evening, her red scarf wrapped around her neck and the biggest grin on her face as soon as she pulled off her mask. “Let me shower and change and then I’m going to give you two the biggest kisses.”

Like she did every day when she came home from work, Santana immediately stripped off her clothes and put them in the washing machine and jumped right in the shower. I missed being able to kiss her as soon as she walked in the door, but we both knew it was much safer to wait twenty minutes until any surface germs were off of her. Tyler didn’t exactly get it, he still whined and waited outside the bathroom door, but he was always the first one she kissed, our sweet little boy.

“Come on, Ty, let’s make Mama an espresso so she can sit down and relax with us when she gets out.”

I took the baby into the kitchen with me and made Santana’s afternoon drink, sprinkling a little cinnamon on top, because it was almost Christmas after all and I wanted it to be special for her. When she came out of the shower, she took Tyler from my arms and kissed him all over his face, laughing right along with him and his sweet little giggles. Then she sandwiched him between us and kissed my lips, smiling as she did. I knew that her job was more stressful than ever and the five days off would do her some real good.

“What’s on the Christmas agenda tonight, Britt?” She asked, putting Tyler on her hip and taking her cup from me.

“My parents want to FaceTime, if that’s okay with you.”

“Obviously, we haven’t talked to them since last week.”

“Yeah, well, you know how my mom is.” I shrugged, thinking that she was probably a little pissed that we told her not to come for Christmas and Ty’s birthday, but it was what it was. “It probably won’t be long, who knows?”

“Are you okay, babe?”

“Yeah I guess I’m just aggravated with her. She’s asked me like four hundred times if we changed our minds about her coming. This is like Thanksgiving all over again.”

“I mean, I get it, it sucks. Everyone wants to be with their families and I can’t wait until this is over so we can take Ty to Colorado, but we’re just not there yet.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Obviously, Britt, you tell me all your secrets. You couldn’t even hang onto my birthday gift for more than a day after you got it this year.”

“I love Christmas Eve with your parents, it would have been nice to have mine here, but I kind of selfishly am looking forward to this year being just the three of us. Last year poor Tyler was so tired when we got home from your parents’, Christmas Day will be better with him on his regular routine.”

“I agree, and I honestly am looking forward to just relaxing with you guys, no stress, no drama, no dealing with my grandmother who can’t even bring herself to look at our son.” She shook her head. “Plus, it’s our anniversary, I do love the idea of not having your parents in the apartment that night.”

“Oh really?” I smirked and she laughed, before Tyler pat her face and shouted ‘Mama!’

“I know, baby boy, Mommy and I are totally ignoring you. “Let’s go play for a little while before we have to start dinner.”

So I was obsessed with watching Santana on the floor with Tyler. It started when he was a baby and she’d lay beside him got tummy time. I could never resist taking out my camera and getting a few shots of them together, especially because he was the spitting image of her and they just looked absolutely beautiful together. Santana always teased me about how many pictures I had, but I couldn’t help myself ever. They were too much and I loved them with everything in me.

Santana got so involved with playing with Tyler that I assured her I’d make dinner and slipped off into the kitchen, leaving them on the floor playing with his ball tower. It was hard to believe that our kid was almost two, that it had been so long since she and I reunited on Christmas Eve in the grocery store. But it was perfect. It really was, even in the midst of 2020, I had nothing to complain about in my life. We were healthy, we were happy and though we’d really been isolated from everyone else, we knew how loved we were.

We had barely finished eating dinner when my phone rang and I sighed a little when I looked down and saw that it was my mother. I really didn’t want another fight with her and as much as I wanted her to see Tyler, even through the screen, it had been hard. She was a hippie at heart and she didn’t do well with feeling like the government was controlling her, so I had to explain only about a thousand times that it was for her safety and everyone else’s.

“Hi Grandma.” I held the phone in front of Tyler and he grinned and waved.

“Hi Mamaw!”

“It’s my little Ty! Oh how I want to kiss your face and squeeze you!”

“Here we go.” I mouthed to Santana who rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you think Grandma should come for Christmas? I promise, I’ll bring lots of presents.”

“Mom!” I turned the phone away from him and toward me. “Not cool.”

“It’s just me and your father, Brittany, it’s not like we’re bringing the whole world to see you.”

“We said no. We’re not seeing Santana’s parents, we’re not seeing our friends. The case count is rising and it’s only going to get worse after Christmas. We refuse to put anyone at risk.”

“Whitney, listen.” Santana took the phone from me, sensing my frustration. “I promise the first thing that we’ll do when this is over is come to Colorado, okay?”

“But it’s been a year since I’ve seen my grandson, your parents have at least seen him outside.”

“I know, and if you lived closer, we would see you outside too, but that’s just not what’s going on.”

“It just doesn’t feel like the holiday season.”

“It’s one year, Mom.” I took the phone back. “That’s it. And I’ve told you this more times than I can count. You calling and harassing us and trying to bribe Tyler isn’t going to change that.”

“I think dinner’s ready, I have to go.”

She hung up the call before I could say anything else and Santana came behind me and squeezed my shoulders. I relaxed into her body and she kissed my neck, knowing that always got my mind off of anything else. But then, Tyler started crying and I kind of wanted to punch my mom since he enjoyed talking to her so much and I didn’t think it was fair that she was taking out her frustrations on him.

“C’mere, baby.” I lifted him out of his high chair and gave him a squeeze. “It’s bath time!”

It was kind of funny how after Tyler was born, I became so much less awkward around people. Whenever I was able to stay put in New York, I had taken him to his Music Together class, to the park, wherever I could, you know, back when those things were still open and having him almost made me have some kind of common ground with other human beings so I didn’t just blurt out whatever was on my mind as often. Not to say it didn’t still happen, I was still me, after all, but I think Santana and I both really changed once he came along, in the best way possible.

The next day, we FaceTimed with the Changs, Kurt and Dave who had been working from home and isolating outside of the city since March and Mercedes, who had been pulling a real Taylor Swift and writing album after album in quarantine. While Tyler napped, Santana and I finished wrapping the last of his presents and got them all situated to put under the tree for the next night. I was beyond excited for the non-traditional Christmas, just ready to watch Christmas movies and drink hot cocoa in our pajamas and I knew Santana was too.

The next morning, Tyler woke us up before six and I told Santana to stay in bed while I went across the hall to get him. He completely beamed up at me, though his eyes were still tired, and I lifted him into my arms to bring him into our bedroom. Once he was in the bed, he crawled around, pawing at Santana’s face and she finally sat up with a laugh, kissing him all over his face.

“Merry Christmas Eve, little dude.” She told him. “You know Santa’s coming tonight.”

“Santa! Santa!” He clapped, though neither of us were really sure he even knew what that meant.

“What do you want to do today, babe?” Santana asked me and I shrugged.

“I mean, we’re doing the Christmas movie marathon tomorrow and you know, we ate all the fudge your mom dropped off...”

“So you want to make fudge?”

“I mean, you’re the keeper of Maribel Lopez’s secret fudge recipe, it only seems right.”

“If you want fudge, you get fudge.” She smiled and I did a little happy dance in the bed. The fudge was honestly so good that sometimes, when I was gone for longer than I’d like and I was hitting that homesickness point, Santana would send it in a care package. Yeah, my wife was cute like that, she didn’t stop sending me care packages just because we had rings on our fingers. The best, seriously.

So we made the fudge. Then we went for a walk in the park, where there were thankfully not too many people to have to dodge and we looked up at the sky, thinking it really looked like snow was coming. A white Christmas would be nice and probably the most un-2020 thing to happen so I really kind of was looking forward to it. Once Tyler was asleep in his stroller, we went home and Santana carried him upstairs to his bed and we went to do one last double check on the gifts.

“You’re sure you’re cool with being Santa tonight?” She asked me.

“We couldn’t take him to Macy’s and he needs to have a picture with Santa, of course I’m cool with being Santa. We got the suit and the pillows and the beard, I’m so ready.”

“You’re really the best mom, you know that right?”

“Please...you’re like super mom or something.”

“Just let me give you a compliment, Britt.” She rolled her eyes. “I hate that everything has sucked pretty bad in the world, but him having you around every day, and me not having to freak out about if he was safe while I went to work is definitely the best thing that ever could have happened.”

“It feels really good to be able to do it. I don’t know, looking at the map in his nursery showing me in New York for the past nine months has been really good, I feel like I miss a lot when I’m gone.”

“Do you not want to do it anymore?”

“No, I do, I’m just grateful for the time. And to be honest, I don’t think my job is ever going to go back to looking like what it used to, so maybe that means a lot more time with you both.”

“We’re so lucky, you know? I thought about it a lot this year, like what if I would have been single when this happened and isolated from my parents and my friends. It’s hard enough some days, but going through it alone...”

“Yeah, I know. I totally do. Even in the shittiest year, the world is a whole lot better with you and Tyler in it.”

After another hour or so, Tyler woke up and was ready to play. We pulled over his learning tower in the kitchen and he stood at the counter with us as we cooked our Christmas Eve feast. Just because it was the three of us didn’t mean we weren’t going to do tamales and a pork shoulder like we did every year at Santana’s parents—although luckily, we’d prepared the tamales ahead of time—and even though it was a little early, Santana poured bourbon into our eggnog and we started celebrating.

After dinner, I went upstairs and changed into my Santa suit. Maybe people would think it said something about gender roles or what the fuck ever that I was the one to dress up as Santa, but it wasn’t like that. I just thought it would be really fun and figured we could get our Christmas picture of Tyler. While Santana had him in his bedroom, I slipped out of the door to our apartment and waited with my mask in the hallway for Santana to open up to my knocks. When the door swung open, she held Tyler in her arms and I gave my best ‘ho ho ho’ carrying two gifts for him.

“Mommy!” He shouted, clapping his hands and giggling. “Mommy!”

“That’s not Mommy, silly boy.” Santana laughed, eyes sparkling. “It’s Santa Claus.”

“No, Mommy!”

“Alright.” I chuckled, taking off my beard and hat so as not to confuse him. “You’re right. C’mere, buddy.”

Santana just laughed and laughed as I took him into my arms and handed her the gifts. He was a smart one, that was for sure, and he patted my cheeks as I carried him over to the Lord Tubbington proof Christmas tree and sat down on the floor with him.

“You’re right Ty, Santa isn’t coming until after you’re asleep, I was just being silly. But look, we have some presents for you.”

We sat with him as he took his time opening his gifts, a new pair of Christmas pajamas and a copy of Olive the Other Reindeer to read at bedtime. He was really excited about the book and roughly turned the pages, trying to see all the pictures. Then, we took him up for his bath and got him settled into his new pajamas and into his bed. Santana read to him and I sat back and watched, just so in love with the two of them. I didn’t even bother to take pictures though, I just wanted to be in the moment and Santana occasionally looked over at me and smiled. Even with the shit year we’d had, it really was the perfect Christmas Eve and once Tyler’s eyes slipped closed, I leaned over and kissed Santana on the lips.

“Merry Christmas, my love.” She smiled.

“The merriest yet.”

[96harmony96]

Chapter 6

Hey, Dad. I caught you.” I adjusted my grip on the phone receiver and pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar. I missed my father. For the last four years we’d lived close enough to see each other at least once a week. Now his home in Oceanside was the entire country away. “How are you?”

He lowered the volume on the television. “Better, now that you’ve called. How was your first week at work?”

I went over my days from Monday through Friday, skipping over all the Lauren parts. “I really like my boss, Mark,” I finished. “And the vibe of the agency is very energetic and kind of quirky. I’m happy going to work every day, and I’m bummed when it’s time to go home.”

“I hope it stays that way. But you need to make sure you have some downtime, too. Go out, be young, have fun. But not too much fun.”

“Yeah, I had a little too much last night. Cary and I went clubbing, and I woke up with a mean hangover.”

“Shit, don’t tell me that.” He groaned. “Some nights I wake up in a cold sweat thinking about you in New York. I get through it by telling myself you’re too smart to take chances, thanks to two parents who’ve drilled safety rules into your DNA.”

“Which is true,” I said, laughing. “That reminds me…I’m going to start Krav Maga training.”

“Really?” There was a thoughtful pause. “One of the guys on the force is big on it. Maybe I’ll check it out and we can compare notes when I come out to visit you.”

“You’re coming to New York?” I couldn’t hide my excitement. “Oh, Dad, I’d love it if you would. As much as I miss SoCal, Manhattan is really awesome. I think you’ll like it.”

“I’d like anyplace in the world as long as you’re there.” He waited a beat, then asked, “How’s your mom?”

“Well…she’s Mom. Beautiful, charming, and obsessive-compulsive.”

My chest hurt and I rubbed at it. I thought my dad might still love my mom. He’d never married. That was one of the reasons I never told him about what happened to me. As a cop, he would’ve insisted on pressing charges and the scandal would have destroyed my mother. I also worried that he’d lose respect for her or even blame her, and it hadn’t been her fault. As soon as she’d found out what her stepson was doing to me, she’d left a husband she was happy with and filed for divorce.

I kept talking, waving at Cary as he came rushing in with a little blue Tiffany & Co. bag. “We had a spa day today. It was a fun way to cap off the week.”

I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “I’m glad you two are managing to spend time together. What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?”

I hedged on the subject of the charity event, knowing the whole red carpet business and astronomically-priced dinner seats would just highlight the gap between my parents’ lives. “Cary and I are going out to eat, and then I plan on staying in tomorrow. Sleeping in late, hanging out in my pajamas all day, maybe some movies and food delivery of some sort. A little vegetating before a new work week kicks off.”

“Sounds like heaven to me. I may copy you when my next day off rolls around.”

Glancing at the clock, I saw it was creeping past six. “I have to get ready now. Be careful at work, okay? I worry about you, too.”

“Will do. Bye, baby.”

The familiar sign-off had me missing him so much my throat hurt. “Oh, wait! I’m getting a new cell phone. I’ll text you the number as soon as I have it.”

“Again? You just got a new one when you moved.”

“Long, boring story.”

“Hmm…Don’t put it off. They’re good for safety as well as playing Angry Birds.”

“I’m over that game!” I laughed and warmth spread through me to hear him laughing, too. “I’ll call you in a few days. Be good.”

“That’s my line.”

We hung up. I sat for a few moments in the ensuing silence, feeling like everything was right in my world, which never lasted long. I brooded on that for minute; then Cary cranked up Hinder on his bedroom stereo and that kicked my butt into gear.

I hurried to my room to get ready for a night with Lauren.

“Necklace or no necklace?” I asked Cary, when he came into my bedroom looking seriously amazing. Dressed in his new Brioni tux, he was both debonair and dashing, and certain to attract attention.

“Hmm.” His head tilted to the side as he studied me. “Hold it up again.”

I lifted the choker of gold coins to my throat. The dress my mom had sent was fire engine red and styled for a Grecian goddess. It hung on one shoulder, cut diagonally across my cleavage, had ruching to the hip, and then split at my right upper thigh all the way down my leg. There was no back to speak of, aside from a slender strip of rhinestones that connected one side to the other to keep the front from falling off. Otherwise, the back was bared to just above the crack of my buttocks in a racy V-cut.

“Forget the necklace,” he said. “I was leaning toward gold chandeliers, but now I’m thinking diamond hoops. The biggest ones you’ve got.”

“What? Really?” I frowned at our reflections in my cheval mirror, watching as he moved to my jewelry box and dug through it.

“These.” He brought them to me and I eyed the two-inch hoops my mother had given me for my eighteenth birthday. “Trust me, Camila. Try ’em on.”

I did and found he was right. It was a very different look from the gold choker, less glam and more edgy sensuality. And the earrings went well with the diamond anklet on my right leg that I’d never think of the same way again after Lauren’s comment. With my hair swept off my face into a cascade of thick, deliberately messy curls, I had a just-screwed look that was complemented by smoky eye shadow and glossy nude lips.

“What would I do without you, Cary Taylor?”

“Baby girl”—he set his hands on my shoulders and pressed his cheek to mine—“you’ll never find out.”

“You look awesome, by the way.”

“Don’t I?” He winked and stepped back, showing off.

In his own way, Cary could give Lauren a run for her money…er, looks. Cary was more finely featured, almost pretty compared to Lauren’s savage beauty, but both were striking people that made you look twice, and then stare in greedy delight.

Cary hadn’t been quite so perfect when I met him. He’d been strung out and gaunt, his emerald eyes cloudy and lost. But I’d been drawn to him, going out of my way to sit next to him in group therapy. He’d finally propositioned me crudely, having come to believe the only reason people associated with him was because they wanted to fuck him. It was when I declined, firmly and irrevocably, that we finally connected and became best friends. He was the brother I’d never had.

The intercom buzzed and I jumped, making me realize how nervous I was. I looked at Cary. “I forgot to tell the front desk she was coming back.”

“I’ll get her.”

“Are you going to be okay riding over with Stanton and my mom?”

“Are you kidding? They love me.” His smile dimmed. “Having second thoughts about going with Jauregui?”

I took a deep breath, remembering where I’d been earlier—on my back in a multi-orgasmic daze. “Not really, no. It’s just that everything’s happening so fast and going better than I expected or realized I wanted…”

“You’re wondering what the catch is.” Reaching out, he tapped my nose with his fingertip. “she’s the catch, Camila. And you landed her. Enjoy yourself.”

“I’m trying.” I was grateful that Cary understood me and the way my mind worked. It was just so easy being with him, knowing he could fill in the blanks when I couldn’t explain something.

“I researched the hell out of her this morning and printed out the interesting recent stuff. It’s on your desk, if you decide you want to check it out.”

I remembered him printing something before we got ready for the spa. Pushing onto my tiptoes, I kissed his cheek. “You’re the best. I love you.”

“Back atcha, baby girl.” He headed out. “I’ll head down to the front desk and bring her up. Take your time. she’s ten minutes early.”

Smiling, I watched him saunter into the hallway. The door had closed behind him when I moved into the small sitting room attached to my bedroom. On the very impractical escritoire my mother had picked out, I found a folder filled with articles and printed images. I settled into the chair and got lost in Lauren Jauregui's history.

It was like watching a train wreck to read that she was the Daughter of Geoffrey Jauregui, former chairman of an investment securities firm later found to be a front for a massive Ponzi scheme. Lauren was just five years old when her dad committed suicide with a gunshot to the head rather than face prison time.

Oh, Lauren. I tried to picture her that young and imagined a handsome dark-haired girl with beautiful green eyes filled with terrible confusion and sadness. The image broke my heart. How devastating her father’s suicide—and the circumstances around it—must have been, for both her and her mother. The stress and strain at such a difficult time would’ve been enormous, especially for a child of that age.

Her mother went on to marry Christopher Vidal, a music executive, and had two more children, Christopher Vidal Jr. and Ireland Vidal, but it seemed a larger family and financial security had come too late to help Lauren stabilize after such a huge shakeup. she was too closed off not to bear some painful emotional scars.

With a critical and curious eye, I studied the women who’d been photographed with Lauren and thought about her approach to dating, socializing, and sex. I saw that my mom had been right—they were all blondes. The woman who appeared with her most often bore the hallmarks of a KaKasian heritage. she was taller than me, willowy rather than curvy.

“Magdalene Perez,” I murmured, grudgingly admitting that she was a stunner. Her posture had the kind of flamboyant confidence that I admired.

“Okay, it’s been long enough,” Cary interrupted with a soft note of amusement. He filled the doorway to my sitting room, leaning insolently into the doorjamb.

“Really?” I’d been so absorbed; I hadn’t realized how much time had passed.

“I would guess you’re about a minute away from her coming to find you. she’s barely restraining herself.”

I shut the folder and stood.

“Interesting reading, isn’t it?”

“Very.” How had lauren’s father—or more specifically, her father’s suicide—influenced her life?

I knew all the answers I wanted were waiting for me in the next room.

Leaving my bedroom, I took the hallway to the living room. I paused on the threshold, my gaze riveted to lauren’s back as she stood in front of the windows and looked out at the city. My heart rate kicked up. Her reflection revealed a contemplative mood. Her gaze was unfocused and her mouth grim. Her crossed arms betrayed an inherent unease, as if she was out of her element. she looked remote and removed, a woman who was inherently alone.

she sensed my presence or maybe he felt my yearning. she pivoted; then went very still. I took the opportunity to drink her in, my gaze sliding all over her. she looked every inch the powerful magnate. So sensually handsome my eyes burned just from looking at her. The rakish fall of black hair around her face made my fingers flex with the urge to touch it. And the way she looked at me…my pulse leaped.

“Camila.” she came toward me, her stride graceful and strong. she caught up my hand and lifted it to her mouth. Her gaze was intense—intensely hot, intensely focused.

The feel of her lips against my skin sent goose bumps racing up my arm and stirred memories of that sinful mouth on other parts of my body. I was instantly aroused. “Hi.”

Amusement warmed her eyes. “Hi, yourself. You look amazing. I can’t wait to show you off.”

I breathed through the delight I felt at the compliment. “Let’s hope I can do you justice.”

A slight frown knit the space between her brows. “Do you have everything you need?”

Cary appeared beside me, carrying my black velvet shawl and opera length gloves. “Here you go. I tucked your gloss into your clutch.”

“You’re the best, Cary.”

He winked at me—which told me he’d seen the condoms I had tucked into the small interior pocket. “I’ll head down with you two.”

Lauren took the shawl from Cary and draped it over my shoulders. she pulled my hair out from underneath it and the feel of her hands at my neck so distracted me, I barely paid attention when Cary pushed my gloves into my hands.

The elevator ride to the lobby was an exercise in surviving acute sexual tension. Not that Cary seemed to notice. He was on my left with both hands in his pockets, whistling. Lauren, on the other hand, was a tremendous force on the other side of me. Although ahe didn’t move or make a sound, I could feel the edgy energy radiating from her. My skin tingled from the magnetic pull between us, and my breath came short and fast. I was relieved when the doors opened and freed us from the enclosed space.

Two women stood waiting to get on. Their jaws dropped when they saw Lauren and Cary, and that lightened my mood and made me smile.

“Ladies,” Cary greeted them, with a smile that really wasn’t fair. I could almost see their brain cells misfiring.

In contrast, Lauren gave a curt nod and led me out with a hand at the small of my back, skin to skin. The contact was electric, sending heat pouring through me.

I squeezed Cary’s hand. “Save a dance for me.”

“Always. See you in a bit.”

A limousine was waiting at the curb, and the driver opened the door when Lauren and I stepped outside. I slid across the bench seat to the opposite side and adjusted my gown. When Lauren settled beside me and the door shut, I became highly conscious of how good she smelled. I breathed her in, telling myself to relax and enjoy her company. she took my hand and ran her fingertips over the palm, the simple touch sparking a fierce lust. I shrugged off my shawl, feeling too hot to wear it.

“Camila.” she hit a button and the privacy glass behind the driver began to slide up. The next moment I was tugged across her lap and her mouth was on mine, kissing me fiercely.

I did what I’d wanted to do since I saw hee in my living room: I shoved my hands in her hair and kissed her back. I loved the way she kissed me, as if she had to, as if she’d go crazy if she didn’t and had nearly waited too long. I sucked on her tongue, having learned how much she liked it, having learned how much I liked it, how much it made me want to suck her elsewhere with the same eagerness.

Her hands were sliding over my bare back and I moaned, feeling the prod of her erection against my hip. I shifted, moving to straddle her, shoving the skirt of my gown out of the way and making a mental note to thank my mom for the dress—which had such a convenient slit. With my knees on either side of her hips, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and deepened the kiss. I licked into her mouth, nibbled on her lower lip, stroked my tongue along her…

Lauren gripped my waist and pushed me away. she leaned into the seat back, her neck arched to look up at my face, her chest heaving. “What are you doing to me?”

I ran my hands down her chest through her dress shirt, feeling the unforgiving hardness of her muscles. My fingers traced the ridges of her abdomen, my mind forming a picture of how she might look naked. “I’m touching you. Enjoying the hell out of you. I want you, Lauren.”

she caught my wrists, stilling my movements. “Later. We’re in the middle of Manhattan.”

“No one can see us.”

“That’s not the point. It’s not the time or place to start something we can’t finish for hours. I’m losing my mind already from this afternoon.”

“So let’s make sure we finish it now.”

Her grip tightened painfully. “We can’t do that here.”

“Why not?” Then a surprising thought struck me. “Haven’t you ever had sex in a limo?”

“No.” Her jaw hardened. “Have you?”

Looking away without answering, I saw the traffic and pedestrians surging around us. We were only inches away from hundreds of people, but the dark glass concealed us and made me feel reckless. I wanted to please her. I wanted to know I was capable of reaching into Lauren Jauregui, and there was nothing to stop me but her.

I rocked my hips against her, stroking myself with the hard length of her cock. Her breath hissed out between clenched teeth.

“I need you, Lauren,” I said breathlessly, inhaling her scent, which was richer now that she was aroused. I thought I might be slightly intoxicated, just from the enticing smell of her skin. “You drive me crazy.”

she released my wrists and cupped my face, her lips pressing hard against mine. I reached for the fly of her slacks, freeing the two buttons to access the concealed zipper. she tensed.

“I need this,” I whispered against her lips. “Give me this.”

she didn’t relax, but she made no further attempts to stop me either. When she fell heavily into my palms, she groaned, the sound both pained and erotic. I squeezed her gently, my touch deliberately tender as I sized her with my hands. she was so hard, like stone, and hot. I slid both of my fists up her length from root to tip, my breath catching when she quivered beneath me.

Lauren gripped my thighs, her hands sliding upward beneath the edges of my dress until her thumbs found the red lace of my thong. “Your cunt is so sweet,” she murmured into my mouth. “I want to spread you out and lick you ’til you beg for my cock.”

“I’ll beg now, if you want.” I stroked her with one hand and reached for my clutch with the other, snapping it open to grab a condom.

One of her thumbs slid beneath the edge of my panties, the pad sliding through the slickness of my desire. “I’ve barely touched you,” she whispered, her eyes glittering up at me in the shadows of the backseat, “and you’re ready for me.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I don’t want you to help it.” she pushed her thumb inside me, biting her lower lip when I clenched helplessly around her. “It wouldn’t be fair when I can’t stop what you do to me.”

I ripped the foil packet open with my teeth and held it out to her with the ring of the condom protruding from the tear. “I’m not good with these.”

Her hand curled around mine. “I’m breaking all my rules with you.”

The seriousness of her low tone sent a burst of warmth and confidence through me. “Rules are made to be broken.”

I saw her teeth flash white; then she hit a button on the panel beside him and said, “Drive until I say otherwise.”

My cheeks heated. Another car’s headlights pierced the dark tinted glass and slid over my face, betraying my embarrassment.

“Why, Camila,” she purred, rolling the condom on deftly. “You’ve seduced me into having sex in my limousine, but blush when I tell my driver I don’t want to be interrupted while you do it to me?”

Her sudden playfulness made me desperate to have her. Setting my hands on her shoulders for balance, I lifted onto my knees, rising to gain the height I needed to hover over the crown of Laurens thick cock. Her hands fisted at my hips and I heard a snap as she tore my panties away. The abrupt sound and the violent action behind it spurred my desire to a fever pitch.

“Go slow,” she ordered hoarsely, lifting her hips to push her pants down farther.

Her erection brushed between my legs as she moved and I whimpered, so aching and empty, as if the orgasms she’d given me earlier had only deepened my craving rather than appeased it.

she tensed when I wrapped my fingers around her and positioned her, tucking the wide crest against the saturated folds of my cleft. The scent of our lust was heavy and humid in the air, a seductive mix of need and pheromones that awakened every cell in my body. My skin was flushed and tingling, my breasts heavy and tender.

This is what I’d wanted from the moment I first saw her—to possess her, to climb up her magnificent body and take her deep inside me.

“God. Camila,” she gasped as I lowered onto her, her hands flexing restlessly on my thighs.

I closed my eyes, feeling too exposed. I’d wanted intimacy with her and yet this seemed too intimate. We were eye-to-eye, only inches apart, cocooned in a small space with the rest of the world streaming by around us. I could sense his agitation, knew she was feeling as off-center as I was.

“You’re so tight.” Her gasped words were threaded with a hint of delicious agony.

I took more of her, letting her slide deeper. I sucked in a deep breath, feeling exquisitely stretched. “You’re so big.”

Pressing her palm flat to my lower belly, she touched my throbbing clit with the pad of her thumb and began to massage it in slow, expertly soft circles. Everything in my core tightened and clenched, sucking her deeper. Opening my eyes, I looked at her from under heavy eyelids. she was so beautiful sprawled beneath me in her elegant tuxedo, her powerful body straining with the primal need to mate.

Her neck arched, her head pressing hard into the seatback as if she was struggling against invisible bonds. “Ah, Christ,” she bit out, her teeth grinding. “I’m going to come so hard.”

The dark promise excited me. Sweat misted my skin. I became so wet and hot that I slid smoothly down the length of her cock until I’d nearly sheathed her. A breathless cry escaped me before I’d taken her to the root. she was so deep I could hardly stand it, forcing me to shift from side to side, trying to ease the unexpected bite of discomfort. But my body didn’t seem to care that she was too big. It was rippling around her, squeezing, trembling on the verge of orgasm.

Lauren cursed and gripped my hip with her free hand, urging me to lean backward as her chest heaved with frantic breaths. The position altered my descent and I opened, accepting all of her. Immediately her body temperature rose, her torso radiating sultry heat through her clothes. Sweat dotted her upper lip.

Leaning forward, I slid my tongue along the sculpted curve, collecting the saltiness with a low murmur of delight. Her hips churned impatiently. I lifted carefully, sliding up a few inches before she stopped me with that ferocious grasp on my hip.

“Slow,” she warned again, with an authoritative bite that sent lust pulsing through me.

I lowered, taking her into me again, feeling an oddly luscious soreness as she pushed just past my limits. Our eyes locked on each other as the pleasure spread from the place where we connected. It struck me then that we were both fully clothed except for the most private and intimate parts of our bodies. I found that excruciatingly carnal, as were the sounds she made, as if the pleasure was as extreme for her as it was for me.

Wild for her, I pressed my mouth to her, my fingers gripping the sweat-damp roots of her hair. I kissed her as I rocked my hips, riding the maddening circling of her thumb, feeling the orgasm building with every slide of her long, thick penis into my melting core.

I lost my mind somewhere along the way, primitive instinct taking over until my body was completely in charge. I could focus on nothing but the driving urge to fuck, the ferocious need to ride her cock until the tension burst and set me free of this grinding hunger.

“It’s so good,” I sobbed, lost to her. “You feel…Ah, God, it’s too good.”

Using both hands, Lauren commanded my rhythm, tilting me into an angle that had the big crown of her cock rubbing a tender, aching spot inside me. As I tightened and shook, I realized I was going to come from that, just from the expert thrust of her inside me. “Lauren.”

she captured me by the nape as the orgasm exploded through me, starting with the ecstatic spasms of my core and radiating outward until I was trembling all over. she watched me fall apart, holding my gaze when I would’ve closed my eyes. Possessed by her stare, I moaned and came harder than I ever had, my body jerking with every pulse of pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she growled, pounding her hips up at me, yanking my hips down to meet her punishing lunges. she hit the end of me with every deep thrust, battering into me. I could feel her growing harder and thicker.

I watched her avidly, needing to see it when she went over the edge for me. Her eyes were wild with her need, losing their focus as her control frayed, her gorgeous face ravaged by the brutal race to climax.

“Camila!” she came with an animal sound of feral ecstasy, a snarling release that riveted me with its ferocity. she shook as the orgasm tore into her, her features softening for an instant with an unexpected vulnerability.

Cupping her face, I brushed my lips across her, comforting her as the forceful bursts of her gasping breaths struck my cheeks.

“Camila.” she wrapped her arms around me and crushed me to her, pressing her damp face into the curve of my neck.

I knew just how she felt. Stripped. Laid bare.

We stayed like that for a long time, holding each other, absorbing the aftershocks. she turned her head and kissed me softly, the strokes of her tongue into my mouth soothing my ragged emotions.

“Wow,” I breathed, shaken.

Her mouth twitched. “Yeah.”

I smiled, feeling dazed and high.

Lauren brushed the damp tendrils of hair off my temples, her fingertips gliding almost reverently across my face. The way she studied me made my chest hurt. she looked stunned and…grateful, her eyes warm and tender. “I don’t want to break this moment.”

Because I could hear it hanging in the air, I filled it in. “But…?”

“But I can’t blow off this dinner. I have a speech to give.”

“Oh.” The moment was effectively broken.

I lifted gingerly off of her, biting my lip at the feel of her slipping wetly out of me. The friction was enough to make me want more. she’d barely softened.

“Damn it,” she said roughly. “I want you again.”

she caught me before I moved away, pulling a handkerchief out from somewhere and running it gently between my legs. It was a deeply intimate act, on par with the sex we’d just had.

When I was dry, I settled on the seat beside her and dug my lip gloss out of my clutch. I watched Lauren over the edge of my mirrored compact as she removed the condom and tied it off. she wrapped it in a cocktail napkin; then tossed it in a cleverly hidden trash receptacle. After restoring her appearance, she told the driver to head to our destination. Then she settled into the seat and stared out the window.

With every second that passed, I felt her withdrawing, the connection between us slipping further and further away. I found myself shrinking into the corner of the seat, away from her, mimicking the distance I felt building between us. All the warmth I’d felt receded into a marked chill, cooling me enough that I pulled my shawl around me again. she didn’t move a muscle as I shifted beside her and put my compact away, as if she wasn’t even aware I was there.

Abruptly, Lauren opened the bar and pulled out a bottle. Without looking at me, she asked, “Brandy?”

“No, thank you.” My voice was small, but she didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she didn’t care. she poured a drink and tossed it back.

Confused and stung, I pulled on my gloves and tried to figure out what went wrong.

[rosiewrld0211]

“You’re almost at the door”

☪ group: Red Velvet

☪ genre: angst, angst, angst!

☪ word count: 2.6k

☪ notes: ok so first post and it’s FULL ANGST but there’s no better way yo strat. enjoy!

GIF not mine. Creadits to the owner.

 You heard the slamming of the door. Joohyun took her sweater before leaving. For the first time in the whole night, you let the accumulated tears come out.

 The two of you started arguing almost four hours ago and didn't stop yelling at each other until your girlfriend decided it was enough. You could see the finality in her eyes; the last time you connected eyes shook you to the core. 

 You were left lying on the floor. Crying in anguish and fear. You were afraid. Scared that she would surrender and abandon you. Frightened that things couldn't be fixed. Terrified that she'll find someone else. So you sobbed for the rest of the night like that would help. As if the ten fights you had in two weeks were easy to ignore. 

 It was overwhelming. You'd been married five years now. Only 21 when you tied the knot. Time flew by, but it was enjoyed to the fullest. Even now, when there were days you couldn't look at each other's faces, you yearned for one another as if your life depended on it.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧

 She wanted to start a family. That's why you were constantly at each other's throats. But you didn't feel ready and she always used the argument that her "youth was not eternal". You wanted to give her all the happiness in the world because that's what she deserved. But both of your careers were just taking off and a child could get in between that.

 The moment the light started leaking through the curtains didn’t catch your eye. Staring at one point in the ceiling you laid on your back. You felt empty. The relationship no longer had an escape route. It was either fixed now or never. But you didn't want to be the one that begged for forgiveness. Joohyun had to forget her pride and apologize for the first time in her life.

 So the doubt stayed for a while. Your fingers lingered over the call button, hesitation present for a few seconds. If you called her, you'd be the one who'd regret it. Again.

 You ended up swallowing your sorrows and blocking the phone.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧

 The week went on while you tried to forget about her absence. The questions of how and where she was were buried. You ignored the loneliness of going to bed and waking up with no one by your side. And you failed to cook anything moderately edible. And all that lasted for exactly seven days, not a word from Joohyun. 

 Until the papers arrived.

 You stood up one Friday night to reluctantly answer the door. The movie you were watching remained in the background. It ended up being Seungwan, who quickly handed you the envelope before giving you one last look of mourning. 

 “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

 Was the only thing she said before rushing back through the hall. And you could have sworn that the shape walking towards the elevator was Joohyun's.

 And she had every right to be sorry. When you opened it and pulled the documents out, it felt as if your hands were on fire. Breathe was knocked out of your lungs and the waterfalls in your eyes appeared. A muffled scream left your throat before hitting the ground. The only thing you could hear was white noise as you lamented yourself for the rest of the night.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧

 For the tenth time, you cried in the back seat of a taxi. You were sure that by this point the whole city knew about your heartache. 

 The man in his sixties, whom you managed to recognize as Jong-Ho, glanced at you in the rear-view mirror of the vehicle. He shared a look of empathy as if he truly knew the feeling. He flipped his head and stared at you once the light turned red. Looked as you sobbed and drained all the water in your body in the form of tears. 

 You got off at the entrance to your building, quickly paid for the ride, and then apologized for the mess. When you walked in, the security guard gave you the same look like the taxi driver, already used to seeing you in this condition. You kept going, staring directly at the floor, all the way to the elevator.

 And you weren't brave enough to connect your eyes, afraid it would get worse when you realized he pitied you. 

 Back in your apartment, you laid on the couch, ditching your shoes on the way. You managed to spot one of your cats in the corner of the room. Relaxed, asleep, not even moving when you walked in. Your eyes moved to the empty canvas in the other corner of the room, next to the discarded negatives on the floor. 

 Your mind went blank.

 The older techniques of photography were not interesting in your opinion, but after Joohyun's insistence on saving your memories, you were unable to resist. You ended up not turning them into positives after all.

 The couch creaked as you got up. With little strength, your feet headed where you were looking. Standing in front of what could be the entire narrative of your relationship, the tears began to stream again. You couldn't stand all the feelings, falling to your knees.

   You picked up one, then another, a third one followed. You ended up remembering the fifteen years you spent together. Despair won, making you search for your phone on the outer pocket of the jacket. You dialed the number of the person who loved you the most. The number of the person you loved the most.

"Hello?"

 You didn't hold out. Sobs hit the device while your eyes wandered on the sequence of images. Joohyun laughing on her high school desk. You remembered everything as if it happened just seconds ago. How the teacher hushed you both for giggling too much. How your, at the time, best friend used you as a support to keep from falling to the floor. How you felt your stomach squirm with the joy of the moment.

"Y/N?"

 The crying intensified. With one arm used as support, you looked for another negative, found the one you took of Joohyun blushing, hiding her face from the camera with her hands. Your mind reminded you of the different emotions that crossed her eyes when you confessed your feelings. How they narrowed at first, then flooded with tears that wanted to escape and finally lighted up. The memory of how she rushed over made you feel butterflies.

"Y/N!"

 You took the roll of pictures of your then-girlfriend in your hands. Sleeping too peacefully to seem real in your shared bed. You felt as if that day was yesterday. Remembering the euphoria when she got on her knee to propose earlier that night. The six years of relationship passed by in seconds. The thought of her rehearsing her speech in front of the mirror. And you also recalled that when you said 'Yes!' she looked as if she felt like the luckiest woman in the whole world. Because when you hugged, a tornado destroyed everything in you and replaced it with pure happiness.

"Are you okay?"

 It came as a whisper, almost inaudible. The same thing she asked you months ago when she introduced the idea of a divorce. You couldn't believe how raw everything felt. You tried to come to terms with what happened, but it just didn't stick with you.

 It all resembled how Joohyun sat you down that one night. When she told you she was done with everything, that she couldn't take it anymore. You remembered listening to Joohyun tell you that all she wanted was a family and that if you weren't willing to start one, she would do it on her own. And then you felt everything again.

"I'm hanging up, Y/N."

 You barely heard between your sobs. Remorse filled your system. Because if there's only one thing you could change, it would be your decision. You know you failed. You know that if you had just been a little less egoistic, you could be seeing her in person right now instead of crying on the phone. 

 You deigned to look up, where your blurred vision fell on the blank canvas. You hadn't been able to paint anything ever since she left. You were aware that your muse has moved on from you.

 The only thing that came to your mind every time you picked up a pencil was the image of your tired wife, laying on her back, asking you to go back to bed. And you realized that you will not be able to witness anything like that again, the only thing that you could do is dream about it until you wake up alone again in a bed you used to share.

 Because Joohyun, the person you loved the most, became a chimera. A memory you can only pray to have again. 

"I'm sorry, Hyun."

 Was the mumble that came out before the line went out. The last thing you said to her before the darkness consumed you one more time.

 You saw her at an art exhibition.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧

 Most of the pieces displayed were portraits. The artist wanted to bring back the essence of past centuries

 The place was huge and the amount of walking was tiring. Your legs felt numb at one point. One of the armchairs in the middle of the room looked tempting, and you couldn't resist making your way over it.

 You glanced around trying to find something to entertain yourself. The paintings in that room were still new for your eyes, even after almost three hours of wandering. It didn't take long to realize that you had paid too much to just sit for the last half hour.

 On that kind of occasions, it was impossible to not ignore the other people. It was a personal moment, no better way to communicate something than through art. That's how you spent the rest of the visit. Discovering what you missed at first glance, staring at all the people immortalized on canvas, analyzing the artist's intentions with each brushstroke. 

 It took you by surprise. You were so focused on moving to the next room that it startled you for a moment. The air was knocked out of your lungs and you felt a lump forming on your throat. You turned around for a moment, recovered your breath and then faced her. She looked slimmer than you remembered. Your eyes burned like hell and tears threatened to escape. 

 You stared at her for what felt like years, but it was just a few seconds. 

 She was sitting, looking straight, her daughter holding her hand tightly. She was wearing a white dress from what you assumed was her wedding.

 You looked her hands, how the corners of her lip rise a little. The way her shoulders were straight and looked smaller than usual, how they blended so well with her collarbones. She seemed to have no makeup on, but you knew her, and you also knew that she practiced for years to perfect that look.

 Relief filled your body when you noticed the tiniest of light on glimmering on her eyes. The child looked just like her, with less marked features. The question of how much time she dedicated to her daughter arose. Probably every second she could.

 You frowned and lipped. The tears were held back with some blinks, avoiding making a scene was your priority. You looked at the floor to arrange your mind. Calmness flooded your face when you glanced back at her.

 You still couldn't believe how much you missed her. How much you longed to wake up every morning by her side. To see her preparing lunch past midday. Wearing your shirt and looking at you like you created the whole universe. You missed the slightest touch. The vague rush of your lips when you greeted each other, or her hand on yours when she knew you felt nervous. Even the way she'd grab you when a thunderstorm broke, something you used to hate.

 You wished you hadn't seen her. Avoided the pain in your chest when your eyes met her figure. On her knees, praying to God.

 Your last thought was that everyone was right. The painting did justice to people. Especially to Joohyun. 

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧

 She had always tortured herself for her sexuality, and you knew that because you witnessed it all in front row. It was impossible to make her forget about her roots. You would have given everything to make her accept herself.

 You could only watch her from the side. The Father met you to discuss a schedule compatibility issue. You had been asked if you could help with the preparation of an event, and the only reason you accepted was that you owed it to the school. It didn't take long to talk, less than an hour. Surprise hit you when you saw that there was no more sunlight coming through the window. You could tell that winter had come.

 The last time you saw her was at the church you attended in high school.

 Your guard was down when you registered his presence. Her back was as straight as ever, and it wasn't hard to recognize her form. Dark hair fell over her shoulders, barely reaching her low back. You saw the hands you once held clapped together, and the lips you kissed God knows how many times were begging silently for mercy. She was praying calmly, kneeling in the front row before the statue of Jesus. 

 You stood still. She left you still. That power she had and always will present, and you resented her for it. A grimace deformed your mouth and your eyes were screaming to be closed. You couldn't blink for so long that they burned, but you weren't sure if it was because of that or because the tears were already forming. At some point, in the middle of your trance, you got up. 

 Her breath was slightly labored, as if she wanted, about to do something but was debating if it was the right thing to do. 

 And then you saw it, the mirror that the two of them always made fun of. Why did they want a mirror in the middle of the altar, anyway? And you condemned yourself for directing your gaze at it. Joohyun's eyes reflected directly to yours. The air in her lungs escaped through her mouth. Neither of you had a clue on what to do. No more than ten seconds passed with both your eyes locked.

 Vulnerability hit you when she turned around. A hidden strength made you look directly at her. She picked up her things and then took a deep breath. Her gaze met the floor for a moment, then it fell on you. Everything you felt was reflected. The longing and the loneliness marked her eyebags and she looked more tired than normal. 

 The time stopped for a moment. You saw tears threatening to come out of her eyes and you could swear that the grimace on her mouth was an attempt to smile. 

 You mirrored her. You gave her the biggest of your smiles. With salty tears streaming down your cheeks. And even though you already knew it wasn't possible, you tried to make her happy one last time.

 It didn't work. You couldn't figure out what she was feeling. It looked like nostalgia, but it was mixed with a sense of joy. She looked at you for the last time before walking out. You wanted to call her, you wanted to tell her that you were sorry and that you were every day without her was horrible. 

 You were left behind again, only one beat was enough to erase the sorrow from your heart.

[sunflowerkiwi93]

Now That We’re Done - HS

This is a fic I've been working on for some time now.  It's actually the 'sequel' to a fic I wrote a while ago, and something inspired me to keep going.  I intend to post both, but wanted the story to begin this way :)

Warnings: There are mentions of abuse, PTSD, and anxiety throughout every part.  Also- mature content. One of the guys doesn't turn out to be so great- this story is not intended to give him this image.  This is all purely fiction.

Summary: A twenty year old dancer, Elizabeth Payne, is recovering from a traumatic past with the help of her older brother, Liam. The two of them have been yearning for peace for quite some time, and when a good friend comes to live with them for the summer they start their journey towards finding it.  Through ups, downs, relapses, and two albums- Liz fights through her own mind to get better.

Part One

I sat on the couch alone, cold.  I shivered and pulled my jacket tighter around myself.  Looking to my left I saw picture frames on the side table full of pictures of myself and old friends.  I glanced away quickly, my heart beginning to ache.  Looking to my shoes, then to the ceiling, I groaned and quickly stood to my feet.

“Let’s go!” I called, getting out of that living room.  I made my way to the bottom of the stairs listening for footsteps.  “Elizabeth!” I called again.

“Liam!” She mocked me, plummeting down those stairs like she used to.  She landed at the bottom and watched me watch her.  “What?” She asked.

I looked her up and down.  My baby sister.  Twenty years old.  The last time she was in this house she was eighteen and in love, with long brown hair past her shoulders and a smile that couldn’t be replaced.  She was her own boss and didn’t take shit from anyone, not even me.  God, she used to hate herself for that after what happened.  Running my hands through my hair, I sighed and shrugged.

“Memories,” I said flatly.

“Ugh, you’re gross,” She rolled her eyes, “Are we going?” She motioned at the door.  I nodded and she started for it.  Her hair was short now, hidden under a beanie hat.  She wore sweaters in the summer and talked to her therapist on the phone twice a week.  Wednesday and Saturday.  Her sunglasses were always dark and she only talked to me, our parents and one other person.  She got to the door, put her hand on the knob and looked at me.

“Liam?” She asked.

“Liz?” I answered.

“Can you go first?” She whispered.  

This was normal for her.  Media blew her up once they all found out.  All the stories made me absolutely sick.  Her phone was shut off for two months because she couldn’t handle it.  Her Twitter was deleted and she had to make a new private Instagram.  Since July sixth, two years ago, she hasn’t left my side and there is not one part of me that wants to leave her alone.

“Come here,” I stood next to her, put her hood on over her hat and my arm around her shoulder, “The car is right down the stairs, okay?” She nodded, “Don’t you dare listen to one word anyone says.”

I pushed the door open and instantly we were both being shouted at, flashes going off like mad.  Elizabeth kept her eyes down, but she clung to me tight.  My guard opened the back door for us while pushing paps away.  We slid in and the door slammed shut.

“Oh my god,” Elizabeth gasped, throwing her head into her lap, “OH my god.” She began to cry.

“Hey,” I laid my hand on her back and rubbed in circles.  She sat back up and pulled her hat off along with her sweatshirt.  She wore a dark blue tank top.  Looking at me, her cheeks were red and eyes swollen.  I wiped away tears with my thumb.  “I’m so proud of you.”

“Why?” Her voice shook.

“Because,” I started, “You went into that house yourself.”

“You were with me, Li.”

“Yeah, I was.  But you wanted to go.  You asked me to go, and for that I am proud.” She bit her lip and smiled, resting her head onto my shoulder.

Days with my sister and I were always led by her and what she wanted to do.  Asking her what she wanted to do today, she wanted to visit the house my old bandmates and I lived in for a few years.  I hadn’t been there in years.  The last time I had actually been in that house was April, when I left with everyone to go do a tour in the US.  Liz was with us then, she and a good friend of hers were staying with us.  When the tour was cut short after July, Elizabeth and I both went straight to our parents home.  My old label had everything personal packed in the house and sent back to us.  For what reason she wanted to go back to that house?  I do not know.  I just know that she wanted to go out, so I took her.

In order for no one to follow us back to my home that I had bought shortly after that month of our tour, another car like the one we were in was with us following different paths to ensure my sister and I made it home safe and alone.  It added more time to the drive than I would have liked, but it was worth the ease of mind.

Fifteen minutes into the ride, Liz was gazing out the window pointing things out to me that she saw.  It was always either a fast food place she missed, or a car she knew I liked.  I nodded along, smiling with her.  In my back pocket one of two phones vibrated and then blurted out a ringtone that I heard often.  Elizabeth whipped her head around and held out her hand.

“That’s Harry,” She said sternly.

“I know.” I got her phone and handed it to her.  The one other person she would talk to was Harry.  After the split he and I would only talk on occasion- when it was our birthdays, holidays or when Elizabeth wouldn’t answer the phone.

“Hey, Harry,” She lit up when she heard his voice.  They only talk through the phone, or FaceTime. He stops by when he can, but he’s always in the US working.  “Yes, I’m good.  I promise.  What?  I can’t hear- Oh, yes.  I’m with Liam.”  She always tells him she is with me, even though he already knows.

“We went to the Syco house, we are on our way back- Yeah, the Syco house,” She looked at me, her eyebrows lowered, “Well, there wasn’t much in there.  Harry, I hadn’t seen it in two years,” She lowered the phone holding the mic and she whispered to me in a panic, “He’s mad.” Lifting the phone to her ear again she listened.

“Harry, I wanted to see it again.” There was a long pause while she listened to him, her face flashing different emotions.  One of the early signs of one of her panic attacks.  She knew how to handle this type of feeling though, I talked to her therapist about it. “Harry!” She shouted, her eyes squeezed shut. I snatched the phone from her.

“Harry?” I said angrily.  There was a pause.

“Liam.” He answered, his voice gravely and low.

“What were you saying to her?  You’re the one person she doesn’t talk to on the speaker around me, because we both trust you.”

“I said that she shouldn’t have gone to the house.” He spoke calm and slow, his usual manner.

“Why?”

“Because that house was hell?  Liam you and I both know that house was hell.”

“Harry-“

“Liam, I didn’t tell her this.  He went there last week.” My heart sank to my stomach.  Flickering my eyes at her she was watching me with wide eager eyes.

“Okay, Harry.  Yes, we appreciate it.  Are you going to call later?  Alright, she looks forward to it.  Bye.”  Faking a conversation was easier than blurting out the truth.  I put her phone into my pocket and pulled mine out.

“He apologized, and told me that he will call you before seven,” Elizabeth smiled and looked at my phone.  I usually never have it out when I’m out with her because my main focus was always making sure she was alright, “Mind if I send someone a message?”

“No, that’s okay.” She said and turned back to look out the window with half an hour left until we got home.  I unlocked my phone, opened my messages and tapped onto Harry’s texts.  I began to type.

L- We do not talk about him being there.

I waited.  Then the three dots popped up.

H- To who?  You or Liz.

L- Liz.  Do you know why he was there?

H- No.  Heard it from this girl I worked with the other day.  Didn’t want to believe it.

L- Who was the girl? How did she know?

H- Her name was Gigi.  And I’m not sure.

L- Ok.  Hear from you at 7 when you call Liz.  Thank you Harry.

H- Anytime.

The rest of the ride home was quiet and when we arrived, I did the usual.  I stepped out of the car first, checked the scene, then let Elizabeth step out.  It made her feel better, and if she feels better so do I.

We were pulled into the long black driveway that connects my garage to the street.  Almost every bit of my house was surrounded by trees.  I bought this home with the purpose of privacy, and it’s been perfect for everything my sister and I were going through.  It was on a private street only the neighbors by me could access, and even then you couldn’t see another house in sight.  It was spacious, quiet, relaxing and the environment we needed to be in.  The house itself was only a story tall.  It had four bedrooms, one of which I turned into a home studio to work on music in, a cozy living room with bookshelves for days and a beautiful backyard with an inground pool and plenty of patio space around it.  It certainly was not as big as the Syco house I once lived in or as glamorous as some houses celebrities live in, but my sister and I adored it and we’ve been happy here for two years.

“I’m tired,” Elizabeth mentioned as we walked inside the garage, “I might lay down.” I told her to go lay down and she went to her room.  I flopped onto my sofa and pulled out my phone.  I opened Google and searched for news on the man Harry brought up.  Curious as to why Elizabeth would want to go to the house if he was just there.  The first story that popped up was of him on the streets of NYC locking lips with a rail thin, long haired blonde.  It read their names with the title ‘Heating Things Up?’.

Opening it, I scanned the lines not caring about what he was doing until the girl's name came up again.  Sure enough her name was Gigi.  I locked my phone, slid it onto the table, stood up and took myself down the hall to knock on Elizabeth’s door.

“It’s open,” She called.

“As it should be,” I joked walking inside, “What are you doing?” She was sitting at her desk with nothing on it.  She shrugged.

“Sitting,” She said seriously.  I cracked a laugh and sat on her bed.

“Obviously,” She stared at me, “I have a question, if you don’t mind.”  Squinting her eyes she nodded.

“Why... why did you want to go to the Syco house today?” I asked quietly.  Elizabeth looked at her hands then at me.

“I wanted to feel something,” She said, “Haven’t felt anything.  In a long time.  In two years.” She stared off into space, her mind wandering.  I watched her closely as her eyes danced around her room in her mirror, and then she frowned.

“Elizabeth,” I said, raising my voice a little to regain her attention.  She snapped out of it and looked at me.

“What were we saying?” She asked, “Oh, Syco house.”

“What did you want to feel?” I asked.

“Something.  Anything,” She muttered.  “I don’t even know what’s happening with the world.  I don’t go on my phone.”

“No,” I shook my head answering her quickly, “Kens says you can have it when someone calls.”

“Then let me call Ken's myself,” She raised her eyebrows. “I need new rules.  Liam!” She held out her hand and I sighed.  I felt both my pockets and found nothing.

“Use mine, it’s on the coffee table.”

She bolted for the living room and snatched my phone.  I heard the buttons click and the phone unlock, then I heard a thud on the floor a few seconds later.  Leaving her bedroom, I found her staring at my phone on the ground at the story of him that I forgot to close out of.  Her face was straight as she stared.  Then she looked up at me.  I couldn’t make out any words to say.  She hadn’t seen anything or heard anything of or about him in a very long time.  She bent down and picked the phone up, exiting the screen.  I saw her go to my contacts, find Kens’ number, her therapist, and call.

“Hi, Kens.  Yeah, it’s me.  I just went on the internet for the first time.”

-

It was easy to understand why anxiety made you hide, why it made you feel small and stuck.  It was difficult for Liam to understand opposite action, which meant doing exactly what anxiety was telling you not to do.  After my conversation with Kens I realized that if I wanted to get out of feeling like I was stuck in a hole, I had to do just that.

Liam agreed to take me out, which he did quickly after learning what opposite action was, after I mustered up the courage myself to ask him.  Setting his phone down on the coffee table I looked to my brother and nodded.

“We’re going to do this, yes?” I asked.  He lowered his eyebrows and squinted his eyes at me.

“We’re going to feel alive,” He said seriously with some humor behind it.  I smiled and stood up, heading towards my room.  Liam called after me, “And for as long as you need.  I’ll be out here on the phone Kens.”

When I started living with my brother back when, I never knew he and I would end up here.  I had envisioned that I’d be dancing my way through life, literally, and be in an amazing relationship with someone I truly loved.  Liam would still be making music with his band and maybe he and I would eventually be working together merging our talents.  Instead, I live with him somewhere his fans can’t find him and we work together on my therapy while he still works with the media.  I never liked the paparazzi.  Not even when I was living in the Syco house, living the dream for a few months.  

After then the headlines were horrific, my name caught up in something I wish I could erase from my memory, but Kens says it is important to have because she says look at how I’m starting to grow from it.  I can never see what she’s talking about when I’m stuck in a low.  I only see why what happened to me happened, but once I’m feeling okay I understand.

I sat down in front of my mirror and took a deep breath down into my stomach.  My makeup hadn’t been touched in months.  It was still set up from when Liam had helped me clean up from a panic attack weeks ago.  Brushes went flying, it wasn’t pretty.

I put my cold hands over my pale cheeks and groaned.  I wasn’t sure if I even remembered how to properly put on a simple face of makeup.  I dabbed some concealer under my eyes and brushed on some bronzer and mascara.

I changed into some ripped blue jeans, a lavender sweater that fell just off my shoulder and a pair of black slides.  My red hair I pulled back with a braid in the front and a little ponytail in the back.  It was not as long as it used to be.  I had to cut a whole lot off after it thinned out extremely from stress.  That was a heartbreaking moment for someone like me who used her hair as a personality trait.  Liam sat beside me the entire time it got done and had even helped which shade of red to color it.  I’m his own special mix of chocolate cherry.

Stepping out of my room an hour after speaking to Liam I found him patiently sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone.  His head popped up after he heard my door close, and his jaw fell open.

“Well, look at you!” He gushed.

“Ugh, Liam, don’t,” I forced back a smile, but it peeked through as I walked over to him.

“You look great,” He said standing up offering me a hand, “Shall we?”

I took his hand and laughed.

“We shall!”

-

Elizabeth and I had a quick, fun evening out.  My driver drove us around the small town outside where my home is, where some paparazzi can be found but also some amazing restaurants.  I kept my hand sat on top of hers in the car and thought about the conversation I just had with Kens about accepting this decision my sister made about her recovery.  Kens told me I need to make some new boundaries as Liz starts to grow with her treatment.  Eventually she would want her phone back and that’s the only problem I had.  

For nearly a year after it happened I was the only one on her phone.  I deleted messages, incoming and outgoing.  I deactivated Twitter and created a new Instagram for her.  I told Kens I was not ready for her to be back on Twitter, and she agreed with me.  She said she will not allow Liz back onto social media full time until she knows she will be okay reading what she’ll be reading.

Looking at her beside me in the car she was gazing out the window, a soft smile on her face again, but her right knee was beginning to bounce a bit.  Kens told me to watch for that as a sign of her anxiety being present.  I squeezed her hand and she turned to look at me.

“You okay?” I asked calmly.  She took a deep breath and nodded.

“I’m okay.  Excited and nervous.  But okay,” She smiled and I returned it to her.

We pulled up along an Italian restaurant she used to love and she gasped so loud I thought I was going to jump out of my pants.  It didn’t seem too busy for a Thursday night, so we decided it would be alright for us to stay.  As usual I got out of the car first and held her hand as she slowly took her time to step out and watched as she looked all around.  I noticed that some people realized who I was, and then saw their reaction when they realized who I was with.  A girl shouted out her name and Liz jumped in her shoes slightly and latched onto my arm.

“You’re doing great,” I said to her quietly as we walked towards the doors, “They’re looking excited to see you.” She let out a breathy laugh the moment we stepped inside.  She let go of me and shook her hands and stretched out her arms.

“My heart is beating like a drum,” She whispered, bouncing on her toes.

There was some commotion outside, some louder voices, and Liz and I both turned to look through the windows.  Sure enough there were two paparazzi with camera lenses nearly pressed against the glass.  Liz’s eyes went wide so I quickly turned her away and asked for our table.

We sat in an empty section of the dining room which was perfect for us both as we can be quite loud together.  We always knew how to make our own party.

During dinner it was extremely easy to forget the world and I can only hope Elizabeth felt the same exact way.  Our conversation drifted from shopping for some new clothes for her, to when I auditioned for X-Factor, to some old family vacations we took during the summers.  We sat in front of our empty plates and I looked at her curiously.

“Do you have any plans for the rest of this summer?” I asked.  She blew a raspberry on her lips and sighed.

“We can do this every night,” She giggled, “Although...” Her words trailed off as did her eyes.  I held my focus on her and then shook the ice in my glass around before taking a sip to help bring her back.

“Although?” I questioned between sips of cool water.

“I want to see Harry,” She said and looked me right in the eyes.

“I don’t have a problem with-“

“I know you don’t,” She cut me off quickly not breaking her eye contact, “It’s been almost a year since I’ve seen him.” Her voice turned to a whisper.  I watched her as she explained to me how great I’ve been with helping her, and how she loves me very much but that she needs to have a friend by her side, too.

“You know I’m still your friend, right?” I teased her and she rolled her eyes.

“You know what I mean!” She groaned.

“Yes, I do,” I laughed, “I’m proud of you for bringing all of this up.  For talking to me, and helping me understand.  If Harry-“ I was cut off again, but this time by that distinct ringtone.  Elizabeth fell serious and held out her hand waiting for her phone to be placed there.  Slipping it from my pocket, I smiled at her, and handed it over.

“Hi, Harry,” She breathed and listened to what he had to say, “Yes I am!  Liam’s here with me,” as always, “We came out tonight... Oh, you saw already? Where?”  I watched her talk to him every single phone call.  She became a different person who lit up with excitement and energy.  If she didn’t bring up Harry coming home to him, I was certainly sure that I was going to.

He was there afterwards, holding her, squeezing her hands.  She was folded in his lap sobbing uncontrollably, nearly screaming, and he just sat there listening to her, somehow understanding her.  He helped me through those few weeks of the hospital, then going home, then going back to the hospital.  He stayed overnight with me most nights.  Before any of this ever happened he was dating Liz’s old friend.  He tried a slick move on my sister, but she’s so strong on her feet she put him in his place.  Shortly after that night in July on tour, he was single again with no reason behind it.  I just know we don’t bring up that girl anymore or hear from her.  Eventually, once Liz and I were in my new home, he set off to do his solo music work.  But he never forgot to call.  He always called.

“Thank you, I bought it last year and had never worn it...” She glanced up at me and smiled, “Harry, I have a question for you later if I could call you when I’m home?  That’s okay?  Okay... bye.”

She hung up and handed her phone back over to me.

“Thank you for coming out with me tonight,” Liz said to me with a smile.

“Thank you for giving the best night I’ve had in awhile,” I said back to her with a small wink.

[cali-holland]

Learn To Be Lonely, Ch 5: Full Hearts, Broken Hearts

Tom Holland X Reader, Soulmate!AU

In a world where two souls are destined for each other, is it possible to find love when your other half has passed- or are you truly destined to have a lonely heart forever?

Word Count: 2100

Learn To Be Lonely Masterlist

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*gif is not mine*

Warning: unedited, might have some swearing, talks about transplants

A/N: ooh time to figure out who vanessa is... beware of angst ahead!

~~~

It had been so long since you felt complete, it was almost a foreign feeling to you. This moment right here, waking up in Tom’s comforting embrace with your head against his bare chest listening to the soft beating of his heart, was your turning page. If you ever doubted yourself in a soulmate-less life, in your new life in Kingston, this was everything.

You understood why Tom was nervous to tell you. How do you tell someone that the most important part of your body isn’t truly yours? How do you tell someone that the reason you were alive was because someone else isn’t?

“That tickles.” Tom mumbled, and you lifted your head to look up at him. His hand came down to rest on yours, drawing your attention to the fact that your own hand had been mindlessly tracing over the bottom of his scar.

“Oh, sorry.” You blushed, feeling bad for getting caught. He was self-conscious over the scar, and you needed to respect that.

“It’s alright. I’m just not used to the feeling.” He said, his voice still groggy with sleep as he looked down at you.

“I won’t- I won’t touch it if-” Tom cut off your concerned words, his own fingers delicately tracing over your hand that had been subconsciously running over his chest.

“It’s alright.” He repeated. “I told you because I trust you. People get weird about heart transplants, but I- I don’t think you will.”

“I’ll try.” You assured him, leaning up to kiss him. Tom smiled into the kiss, maneuvering his hand to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair as he slowly deepened the kiss. You parted after a moment to catch your breath, resting your forehead on his.

“I have to pack.” You mumbled.

“Right. New York.” Tom remembered, and you nodded a little.

“C’mon, I’ll make you breakfast.” You shifted out of the bed, and Tom got up after you, following you down the hall to the kitchen. 

After eating, Tom left to use the bathroom and change, and you got a text from Daisy, saying she’d left a little wedding gift for Kate in her room. Her kindness truly never failed to surprise you. You stepped into her room, looking for the red-wrapped gift she had texted you about. The gift sat on her nightstand, and just as your fingers wrapped around the box, you paused, seeing the scrapbook still open. Daisy had left it open on her nightstand, so it wasn’t surprising that it hadn’t moved since her departure yesterday; no, the picture on the page caught your eye.

It was the one Tom had at his apartment- the four of them, smiling for the camera. The friend Daisy was missing yesterday was Vanessa; they seemed pretty close from what you could tell. The date in the corner of the page was your birthday, your 23rd birthday to be exact just a few months ago. Before you could help yourself, you flipped to the next page. It was another picture from the same night, but it was different from the other two- different because it was Tom kissing Vanessa. You assumed Daisy had kept the image because she and Harrison were photobombing them. Feeling hurt by the image, you were about to close the book, but stopped as you looked harder at the picture. Tom’s wrist was displaying a glaringly obvious full heart.

There was no question about it now. Vanessa was his soulmate, and they definitely weren’t just friends. You had opened up to him about your life and you had thought he opened up to you about his, but he didn’t. He never told you that he had found his soulmate, that it was Vanessa of all people. The cursive caption under the photograph wasn’t in a handwriting you recognized, maybe it was Vanessa’s, but it made it clear to you that Tom and Vanessa were together: “What better use are roommates than to introduce you to your soulmate? All the love from the Osterfield-Andrews-Holland-Darcy gang”. You felt disgusted at the thought of Tom now; he had a soulmate, and he acted like he didn’t when you were the one that was missing your other half.

“Y/N? What are you doing in Daisy’s room?” Tom asked, stepping inside the room. He stopped seeing the familiar scrapbook in your hands and the hurt look on your face. “Why do you have that? That’s personal.” Defensively, Tom took the scrapbook from your hands, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He delicately closed the book, but still held it close to him.

“Vanessa is your soulmate.” You said, blankly. There was no accusatory tone yet, just pointing out the big secret Tom had been keeping from you, and to think you two had come so far in talking about your lives last night. When Tom didn’t respond and only clenched his jaw uncomfortably, you hit your breaking point, your tone seething with the hurt of betrayal, “This whole time, I believed I was holding you back from meeting your soulmate. I trusted you when I told you about my soulmate and how broken I am trying to deal with my love-less life, and you took advantage of that, of me. I’m not some- some hopeless, solum charity case for you to pity. Why didn’t you tell me you found your soulmate? Why didn’t you tell me that you and Vanessa were a hell of a lot more than friends?”

Tom’s face heated up in frustration and he balled his free hand into a fist. You could barely make out the angry tears that formed in his eyes as your own eyes stung with the bitterness of tears, “How could I? How was I supposed to tell you something like that? You may be fine talking about your soulmate, but I’m not. Vanessa- she- she’s gone now. It’s been months, but I’m still trying to heal. I couldn’t tell you because I- I’m still trying to accept it. And I’m afraid I can’t love you the way you deserve to be loved, not after what I’ve been through.” A chill ran down your spine and a sting coursed up your arm from your mark.

“I lost my soulmate, I didn’t even get to meet him, but you- you have yours.”

“Wait, Y/N,” Tom’s voice softened as he processed your words. Through his tears, you could see sorrow in his eyes. He reached out to you, but you retracted away from his once welcoming touch.

“No, just go. I don’t want to see you ever again.” You shoved past him and went to your room, closing the bedroom door behind you. Sliding down the door, you tried to calm yourself down. You listened as Tom’s heavy footsteps grew closer to your bedroom, before he turned away and left your apartment. 

You were beyond upset, and Tom had the audacity to look agonized when you left him in Daisy’s room. After crying your eyes out for a solid half an hour, you forced yourself off the floor. You needed to pack; you were going to New York again, to your best friend’s wedding. Your own life problems could wait.

As you packed everything you’d need for the next several days, you felt your heart straining with a heavy weight. You couldn’t comprehend why Vanessa was out of the picture, why it was so hard for Tom to talk about, why he said Daisy wasn’t that close to her even though Daisy was crying over her yesterday? The only thought that kept coming back to you was that maybe Vanessa had been the one to make things weird with Tom’s heart, maybe that was why he was so worried about telling you. You knew your overthinking wasn’t doing you or anyone else any good, but you needed to ponder it, you needed to think everything over.

Just as you were finishing up packing, you got a Facetime call from Kate. You smiled, answering the phone.

“Are you packed yet?” She asked, excitedly. Her bright smile glistening through the phone.

“I just finished.” You answered, with a small sniffle that you hoped she missed,“I don’t leave for the airport for another half an hour.”

“Wow, so you didn’t procrastinate too hard when planning out your trip.” She teased. Her smile dropped as she noticed your red eyes.

“Have you been crying?” Kate questioned. Damn, you couldn’t even hide your feelings from your best friend through facetime.

“A little bit.” You replied with a small sigh.

“Wanna talk about it?” She offered, her voice filled with sincerity.

“No, it’s fine, really. How’s the last-minute planning going? Excited about your bachelorette party?” You asked, changing the topic as you mustered up the best smile you could.

“I’d be more excited if you told me what’s wrong.” She said, and you knew there was no way around it. Either you tell her now, or you think of how to tell her on the entire plane ride over to New York.

“It’s Tom.” You started and she nodded a little, knowing some of the details of your friendship with him over the weeks you’d been away, “A couple nights ago, we kind of kissed.”

“That’s good, you like him.” She smiled, encouragingly.

“You don’t get it, Kate.” You told her softly. “My other half is gone, but his isn’t. I’ve been feeling like I was holding him back for weeks, and I discovered today that his soulmate was the girl that used to live here in my room. He said previously that she just moved out unexpectedly, but the thing is, Kate, she’s out there.” You paused, taking a deep breath, “He’s got a full heart, and so does she. I don’t. If I’m going to live my life as a lonesome solum, I’m not going to prevent someone else from being with their soulmate. I don’t know what happened between them, I mean some people don’t like their soulmates and they take breaks, but I just- I feel betrayed. I feel like he took advantage of my sad new life, and I was just a pity case to him.”

“I’m sure that’s not it.” Kate replied. “From what you told me about him, it sounded like he really cared about you. I don’t think he saw you as a pity case. I don’t know about his life with his soulmate. That’s something you should ask him about or, at least, ask Daisy about it, so, hopefully, you can stop speculating and get some answers.”

“There’s something else.” You added, and she nodded, encouraging you to go on, “Last night, Tom told me that he- um, he got a heart transplant. I’m the first person he’s ever told, and he never mentioned Vanessa, his soulmate, when we were talking about it. I don’t feel weird about him, but there’s just something with Vanessa that isn’t- you know what I mean?” You sighed, unable to figure out the right words to say.

“I get it. There’s something missing.” It was silent for a moment before she lightheartedly added, “Who would’ve thought you moving to Kingston for a new life would mean that you’re dragged into old roommate drama?”

“So, that’s my life right now. A strange situation that I don’t really know how I got wrapped into it all.” You stated.

“It almost sounds like fate.” Kate laughed lightly, and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“If fate was ever in my favor, I wouldn’t have this burning nuisance.” You held up your wrist to the camera, dramatically showing off your solum mark for effect. Kate beamed, holding up her wrist, displaying her full heart. “How’s the planning going? I’m not coming to a bridezilla disaster, am I?”

“God, I hope not.” She shook her head, laughing. “It’s going well. We have everything, just gotta set up for the big day.” “I can’t believe you’re getting married.” You said in disbelief.

“I can’t believe it either, but I’ve never been more excited.” She smiled, showing off her ring to you. You laughed to yourself as she went on about the plans for the wedding, as if you wouldn’t be right by her side to witness it. You’d never seen her so animatedly happy about life; you two were definitely living completely separate lives. Here Kate was just days before the biggest event in her life, and you couldn’t even manage to find someone for yourself, soulmate or not. Fate really wasn’t in your favor; your broken heart soulmate mark reminded you of that daily.

~~~

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[sunflowerseedsandscience]

Part Five! I’m leaning towards the supremely corny title of “If It Returns,” taken from that old “If you love something, let it go” adage. Part One is here, Part Two is here, Part Three is here, and Part Four is here.

There’ll be a bit of a break before the next part, while I finalize the outline, celebrate New Year’s, and recover from New Year’s. Thanks for reading and thanks for all the love!

Mulder stares at the photo, unable to speak or even form a coherent thought, aware Dana’s watching him anxiously. It only makes it more difficult to think clearly and he focuses harder on the image in his hands.

Wide, sparkling blue eyes. Red-blond hair, long and silky, flowing down in waves around a fair face. An aquiline nose sprinkled lightly with freckles and a bright smile that’s somehow simultaneously charming and precocious.

It’s like looking at a miniature Dana Scully.

Mulder looks up at the full-grown version sitting across from him and the fear in her face nearly breaks his heart. She’s probably run through a hundred possibilities of how he might react since Melissa gave her his phone number... not to mention who knows how many thousands more in the years since her last letter. He smiles warmly at her, hoping to put her at ease. 

“She’s beautiful,” he tells her, and Dana immediately relaxes-- somewhat, at any rate. “How old is she?”

“She’ll be ten in January.” Mulder does the math in his head, and yes, it checks out. She must have sent him that two-line letter right after finding out. But even though the timeline makes sense, her reasoning still confuses him. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asks. “Dana... did you think I’d be angry with you?”

She raises her eyebrows at him. “Wouldn’t you have been?” He opens his mouth to say no, of course not, they were both allowed to see other people so he wouldn’t have had the right to be angry.

But then he stops to think. Would he have been angry? They hadn’t been a couple anymore. He’d had his fair share of dates, a handful of one-night stands, even a couple of relationships. Theoretically, what had happened to her could just as easily have happened to him-- or, at any rate, to any girl he’d been with, which in his book would have put him in almost the same position.

Still....

Right now, he’s looking at it through the lens of maturity, with the experience of a thirty-two-year-old doctor of psychology. And even now, seeing this little girl’s face, concrete proof Dana had been with another man, he feels a twinge of hurt. It’s irrational, but still, he feels it. 

When he’d gotten Dana’s last letter, he’d rushed to the phone to call her, desperate to know what was going on, to talk her out of whatever madness had led her to tell him they could never speak again. The number had already been disconnected, but what if it hadn’t been? In that state of mind, how would his college-age self have responded if Dana had told him she was carrying another man’s child?

“I think at first, I might have been,” he admits. “But I would’ve realized eventually that I didn’t have the right to be angry. And then I would have wanted to know what I could’ve done to help.” He narrows his eyes at her as another thought strikes him. “And you probably would have known that’s how I’d react, too. So that can’t be the only reason you didn’t tell me.” 

Scully looks down. “No, it wasn’t,” she agrees. She twists her hands together around her teacup, and he reaches out and takes one, relieved when she curls her fingers around his and doesn’t pull away.

“Tell me what happened,” Mulder urges gently. Scully raises her eyes to meet his, takes a deep breath, and begins.

“Emily’s father is a man named Ethan. He was a friend of mine at Stanford, senior year. He wasn’t my boyfriend, exactly-- senior year was way too hectic to carry on a relationship-- but we went out every now and then.” She bites her lip and blushes. “And sometimes... you know, to let off steam....”

Mulder grins. “Dana Scully, are you telling me you had a friend with benefits?” 

Dana scowls at him. “Yes. Now shut up.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway... we were both insanely busy with school and part-time jobs, so neither of us were seeing anyone else at the time. And because of that, and because I was on the pill, once I’d seen his bloodwork, we’d stopped using condoms. But....” She sighs. “Someone has to be that one out of a thousand who still gets pregnant. And in April, that someone was me.”

“And you decided to keep it.”

Dana nods “Not because of the reasons you think, Mulder. Eighteen years of Sunday School weren’t enough to convince me I had no choice. And I knew it would wreak havoc on my plans for med school, but....” She smiles softly at the picture of Emily lying on the table between them. “I already felt attached to her, Mulder. I knew right away I was going to keep her.

“Ethan, meanwhile, chose that moment to tell me he loved me, he’d been in love with me for ages, and that he’d marry me in a heartbeat if that was what I wanted.”

“Quite the romantic,” Mulder observes.

“I told him I appreciated his offer, but that I didn’t think we should rush into anything. I decided to to delay med school for a few years, work full-time, and save up the money I’d need to go back to school later, when Emily was older. Ethan already had a job lined up after graduation and he was going to share custody and pay child support. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was the best we could come up with. 

“And then we broke the news to my father.”

Mulder winces. Captain Scully had always been quite the traditionalist... and Dana had been the apple of his eye.

“Well... as you can probably imagine, Ahab lost his mind. I knew it was going to be bad, but....” She shudders at the memory, and he squeezes her hand. “I never dreamed he’d say the things he said, or make the demands he made. He insisted Ethan and I had to get married, and when I told him I didn’t want that, he told me I had no choice, that he wouldn’t stand for me shaming the family like that.”

Mulder’s jaw drops. Ahab had always been strict and demanding, yes, but Mulder couldn’t imagine him ever accusing Dana of making him ashamed.

“So... I stormed out. But later that night, my mother called and said she and my father had come up with a compromise. If Ethan and I married, they would pay my med school tuition, let us live with them, and my mom would watch the baby while Ethan was working and I was at class-- and later, during my residency.”

Mulder whistled. “He really didn’t want you having that baby without getting married, huh?”

“No. He didn’t.” Dana tries to pull her hand away, and Mulder reluctantly relinquishes it. She rubs her upper arms as though chilled. Mulder waits for her to continue but she remains silent. She won’t meet his eyes. He suddenly understands: whatever she has to tell him, she’s afraid of what he’ll think of her when he hears it.

“Dana,” he says. “Look at me.” She purses her lips and keeps her eyes lowered. “Please, Dana.” Slowly, she looks up, and tears sparkle in her eyes. “Nothing you tell me is going to make me think any less of you. Understand?” She chuffs out skeptical laugh. “I promise.” He reaches across the table again and his heart leaps when she lets him take her hand. Holding it in both of hers, she continues.

“I know what I should have done right then,” she says. “I should have called you at Oxford, woken you up in the middle of the night, and told you everything. I should have asked what you thought I should do... and I’m willing to bet you would have convinced me not to take the easy way out.” She sighs. “Which is what I ended up doing.” 

Mulder’s stomach clenches at what he knows is coming. She’s not wearing a ring, he reminds himself. Anything could’ve happened since then. Calm down and let her finish. 

“Ethan and I got married a week later at City Hall. The last thing I did in my old apartment, before moving into my parents’ house, was to write you that letter.”

As much as Mulder’s been trying to stay quiet, here, he can’t help interrupting. “But why, Dana? Just because you thought I wouldn’t agree with you?”

“Because I thought you’d be disappointed in me,” Dana says. “And angry, at least at first. But honestly, I trusted you would get past all that eventually, Mulder." She sighs. “It was me I didn’t trust.”

Mulder frowns. “How do you mean?”

“I mean....” She looks down again, a blush spreading across her cheeks. “My most cherished wish all through college was that our paths would come together again one day. Right up until the moment I said I do, I fantasized about you somehow finding out what had happened and storming into the wedding to object.

“But even more than that, Mulder, I was scared that eventually, writing letters wouldn’t be enough for me, and I’d find some way to be where you were no matter what the distance.” Her blush deepens with her admission, and Mulder’s heart swells. Even after four years apart at college, she’d still loved him just as much as he loved her.

Does she still? He’ll have to wait and see.

“I felt like I had to do it for both of us,” Dana says. “As long as we were still in each other’s lives, I’d never be able to let you go. You deserved so much better than that. And Ethan deserved better, too. I loved him as a friend, and I convinced myself that I could learn to love him as more... but I was wrong.”

“Where’s Ethan now?” Mulder asks... and then, as much as he’s not sure he wants to know: “Are you still married?”

“What? Oh, God, no,” Dana laughs. “No, by the time I’d finished med school, even my dad was willing to admit how wrong he’d been in forcing us to marry. After four years of listening to us arguing over every little thing, my parents were almost celebrating when we announced our divorce. Which, as religious as my parents are, is really saying something. But they saw how miserable I was in my marriage and they didn’t want that for me.”

“He wasn’t cruel to you, was he?” asks Mulder. 

“Ethan? No, not at all, Mulder. He’s a great guy, a wonderful father to Emily. He and I are still good friends.” She chuckles. “Actually, I called him this morning to tell him I was meeting you for lunch.”

“Really?” Mulder’s not sure how he feels about that. A friendly ex-husband isn’t something he has any experience dealing with. Most of the women he’s dated have, at best, been lukewarm on the subject of their exes. “What did he say?”

“He wished me luck,”she says. Mulder laughs.

“So, that’s it,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “The big, bad secret.”

“Yup,” says Dana. “Now you know all of it.” She pauses, tension settled deep in the lines on her forehead. “So... can you forgive me?”

“Dana... there’s nothing to forgive,” says Mulder. “You were in an impossible situation. Would I have tried to talk you out of it if you’d called me? Hell, yes. But ultimately it was still your decision, and you did what you thought was best for everyone at the time.” 

Dana seems to deflate with relief. She pulls his hand to her lips and kisses his fingertips, and he could swear electricity crackles between them.

“But,” Mulder continues, “I do have one request.” 

“Oh?”

“Have dinner with me,” he says. “This Saturday night.”

Her face lights up, but then falls slightly. “I can’t this weekend,” she says. “It’s my weekend to take Emily. Ethan had her for Christmas this year but she’ll be home in the evening on New Year’s Day. And I’d invite you to do something with both of us, but... well....”

“But studies have shown that introducing potential romantic partners to the children of single parents can lead to confusion and a heightened sense of instability when the short-term relationship ends,” says Mulder, fully aware he sounds like a psychology textbook, and Dana laughs.

“Right, I forgot,” she says. “You’re a shrink now. I’ll have to watch what I say or you’ll start psychoanalyzing me.”

“Who says I haven’t started already?” Mulder asks, and Scully glowers playfully at him. “Okay, so, this weekend is out. Maybe--”

“This might seem a little presumptuous,” Dana interrupts, “but do you already have plans for New Year’s Eve?”

Does he? Yes, he does. He’s supposed to attend a party thrown by one of his colleagues from his former practice. He’s already RSVP’d and promised to bring a cheese plate. And knows full well that the hostess is hoping he won’t be going home that night.

Will he be attending the party? No, he will not.

“Nope, nothing solid,” he lies, and Dana’s face lights up. 

“Would you like to come over?” she asks. “I mean, my parents will be there, and Melissa too, at least for part of the night, so it’s not exactly going to be a romantic evening, so--”

“I’d love to,” he says, and Dana’s smile is blinding.

Over Dana’s shoulder, Mulder catches sight of the clock hanging on the back wall. 

“I can’t tell you how much I hate to leave right now,” he tells Dana, “but I have to get back to the office. My next appointment starts in fifteen minutes.” 

“I should really be getting back, too,” Dana says, gathering up her purse and shrugging on her coat. They walk out of the tea room together and stand on the sidewalk in the December chill, neither anxious to leave.

“So... what time should I be there?” Mulder asks.

“Is eight okay?”

“Eight is perfect. I’ll see you then.” He steps forward to embrace her, half-worried she’ll step back, but she doesn’t. She meets him with her arms around his neck, her face curled into his chest, and he buries his face in her hair.

She still smells the same. How can she still smell the same after fourteen years? He inhales deeply, trying to take at least some part of her along with him to tide him over until New Year’s. He releases her reluctantly, and she smiles at him, then turns and heads off down the sidewalk. When she reaches the corner, he calls after her.

“Hey, Dana?” She turns, eyebrow raised. “Just so you know... I absolutely would have showed up at your wedding to object. The moment I knew about it, I would’ve been on the first plane out of England.”

[overheardatthecontinental]

John Wick had a problem.

Helen would tell him he had many problems.

But for now, he was concentrating on one. What had started as weekly tradition of breaking into his therapist’s home had quickly increased to every day he was in New York. Then he was making excuses to run into the city so that he could watch her sleep. And now… it had been more than a week since John spent a night in his own bed.

In the early hours of the morning, John would either make his way to the Continental or home, where he would shower and sleep, confident in the knowledge that Helen was at her office. He would work, or find something to occupy his waking hours, until the clock struck eleven. And then he would, inevitably, find his way back to her.

His obsession with his therapist was getting out of hand.

But he couldn’t resist. He craved the very sight of her. It was like his body hummed with frustration and anxiety whenever she was out of his sight, only to be eased by the image of her in bed, the smell of her lotion, the soft sighs that escaped her as she shifted in her sleep.

It was a problem.

But he couldn’t bear to stop.

And unlike his other problems, he couldn’t just talk to Helen. The idea was laughable.

He can picture it now, as he sits in the parking lot outside her office:

“What would you like to talk about today, John?”

“Well, I can no longer go twenty-four hours without being in your presence, except, we only meet once a week, so the other six days, I break into your house and watch you sleep.”

Yeah. That’s not happening.

He stares at the clock on the dashboard, watching the minutes slowly dance by until he can see her. At 3:50, he watches her previous client leave the building and the remaining five minutes creep by. By 3:54, he’s had enough. He turns off his idling car and heads into the building, no longer caring about how it looks to arrive so early to a session.

Her door is open, as usual, and she is standing over her desk, leaning over so she can type on her laptop. Her seldom-seen glasses are perched on her nose as she does, and John has to stop the barrage of thoughts that come from seeing her in such a position.

Her sweater dress could so easily be pushed up her thighs and…

No. Entertaining these thoughts is doing nothing to help him and every day, he feels himself slip more and more into his obsession.

“Come in, John.” She says, only then glancing up from the screen. “How was your day?”

“Alright.” He says, and Helen closes the laptop and takes off her glasses. A pity, he thinks. She really is so pretty in those glasses.

She grabs a Keurig pod from the basket over her desk before checking, “Planning for a late night?”

Always, now, he thinks. John nods and Helen slips it into the coffee maker and quickly turns it on.

“Oh! Before we start, can I ask a favor? I need to use your body.” He nearly chokes at her phrasing but immediately relaxes as she points to the air conditioner in her window. “I tried to take it out earlier and I saw my life flash before my eyes.”

John glances at her outfit. “In heels?”

She sends him a half-hearted glare. “Honestly, I didn’t even think about it before I came in today. But I heard on the radio that we’re supposed to get a frost this weekend. Usually I’d ask Mike, the building super, but he’s not answering his phone.”

“No problem.” John says, slipping out of his suit jacket and laying it on the chair. “Where does it go?”

“The floor is fine; I just want it out.”

He gives her a look and repeats himself, something he would never do for anyone else in the world, “Where does it go?”

Helen rolls her eyes good-naturedly, “There’s a storage closet down the hall.”

It’s already unplugged so John tucks away the wire and lifts the window off the machine. “Hold the door.” John tells her as he tugs the unit free of the window. It occurs to him how easily an air conditioner, if properly timed, could be used to make a murder look like an accident. A push at the right moment and a crushing death for whoever awaited below…

He follows Helen into the hall and down to where the closet. She quickly unlocks the door and points to the metal shelves where it goes.

He sets it down gently on the shelf, “Good to go.” He says, straightening his vest.

“You’re the best.” Helen tells him.

“Next time,” John says, “Just call me. I’m usually in New York. No near-death experiences with air conditioners. It might be… difficult” impossible “to find a new therapist.”

Helen smacks him on the arm as they walk back to the office, “You’re ridiculous.”

He inclines his head as they slip back in. Helen finds a cover for the coffee, which has finished brewing, and hands it off to John.

“What have you been up to this week?”

Killing, stalking, and watching you sleep.

“Nothing new.” He answers, taking a sip of the coffee as he finds his seat.

“Did you have many cases this week?”

I took extra so that I would be in New York, just so I had an excuse to check on you.

“A few. Nothing too extreme.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask for your definition of extreme.”

His lips twitch.

“Have you given much thought to what we discussed last week?”

“Which part?”

“Your identity. The age-old question that we all must ask of ourselves: who am I?”

Of course, he has. He is now fluent in Erikson’s model, killing the daylight hours with reading things she referenced. Taking delight in the fact that, after his mention of Godwin, he had found the anarchist’s texts on her bedside table.

A silent exchange.

Neither of them will address it but he knows that it has happened. That she cares, in whatever way she does. And he loves her for it.

“A bit.”

“And what did you think about?”

John sinks back into his chair, “My house.”

Helen inclines her head, “Oh?”

“It’s, uh… it’s a nice house, a nice property but it’s just a house.”

“It’s not a home?” She asks, trying to clarify his meaning.

And John nods. “If you were to walk through it,” ah, what a thought, “you probably wouldn’t be able to tell it was mine. I still have the furnishings and the art that came with it. And I don’t have a lot of… stuff. Aside from my clothes, and my books, there’s nothing really there that’s mine.”

“Possessions don’t always reflect personality.”

He thinks about her home. The throw cushion on her couch that says choose happy and the fleece blanket she wraps up in while watching television that’s covered in daisies. The potted plants that advertise the presence of a nurturer, the pictures taken with her friends. There is framed artwork on her walls that seem to highlight her softness.

He thinks of Aurelio’s place, littered with spare car parts. John had once gone to sit on Aurelio’s couch only to land on a steering wheel. There were pictures of his family. A neon sign that Aurelio claimed to have stolen from a pub in Queens. Old magazines on his kitchen table, beer bottles piled next to an overflowing recycling.

Even Winston, who John regarded as a fairly private person, displayed a collection of old chess sets. He proudly put a collection of knives under a glass that he claimed belonged to the third Elder. While there were no pictures of friends or family, he had a taste of the extremes. Large leather couches and glass tables. A collection of top-shelf liquors sat next to an antique globe.

“That’s true,” He says, “But I see other people’s homes and spaces, and they almost seem to belong to them. And mine is as empty as a hotel room.” John pauses in thought, “I’m well aware that my personality is… bland but—”

Helen cuts him off, “Bland?” She repeats, amusement etched onto her pretty face.

John shrugs, “I was recently compared to a block of wood.”

“By who?” Now, there is disbelief in her voice.

“Santino. One of my,” he cannot think of a better word, “colleagues.”

She rolls her eyes, “Well, I expect that you tend to close off around your,” she uses quotations, “’colleagues’.”

John opens a hand in well, what are you gonna do kind of way. “It’s hard to trust trained killers. The less they know about me, the better off I am.”

“We’re going to circle around to that.” Helen tells him, “But I do want to try to understand your thoughts surrounding your home.”

He isn’t quite sure what to say, “I don’t know. I suppose I have a tendency towards utilitarianism.”

Helen is nodding, thoughtfully. “Yet, you’re far past the time in your life when you weren’t able to afford the things you want. Which makes me think that it’s a choice you’ve made, to leave your own space barren.”

“I’ve considered as much.”

“And?”

John shrugs, “I’ve come to several conclusions but no real answers.”

“Tell me.”

“The first, is the most obvious. I grew up without having anything that was mine. I shared blankets, when we had them. Food. Clothing. I learned to live without superfluous things.”

She considers that, “A possibility, and certainly a contributor, but many people who grew up in poverty who, for lack of a better term, rise above their circumstances do the opposite. They buy everything they were never able to have as children.”

“If there’s something that I want, I’d get it. There’s just nothing that I want.” Except for what I can’t have, he thinks.

“When was the last time you bought yourself a little luxury? Nothing related to clothes or food or hygiene. Nothing for work. Just something for you?”

He bought himself several books on and by Erikson, the psychologist she had referenced the week before, but he doesn’t want to tell her that. And, now that he thinks of it, his last several purchases were books she had either mentioned, or he had seen on her bedside table and picked up for himself. Just in case it ever came up in conversation.

“Just books.” He tells her. “A few months ago, I bought a new coffee machine. Does that count?”

She smirks, “I would consider coffee a necessity.”

He grins back, “I’m sure you would.”

“So, nihilism aside…” John snorts at that assessment, but Helen continues, “You said you had other theories?”

John nods, “I also have to consider my Romani heritage. Even the orphanage moved around a lot. Nothing was permanent, until I got to New York. And then, I ran away. And then I was in the military, where we weren’t exactly able to bring things with us. Maybe I just can’t put stock into the idea of permanence.”

Helen seems to sigh, quietly. Empathy burns in her eyes and John can feel it, in turn, burning into him. He’s not quite sure how to deal with it.

Helen offers him a smile and it’s weighted in emotion as she teases, “Keep making connections like that and I’ll start to think you don’t need me anymore.”

“I’ll always need you.” It slips from him before he has a moment to think better of it.

A moment passes, his words lingering in the air and John hopes against hope that she can’t see just how enamored with her he is.

He desperately tries to think of something to say to fill the silence, to take back his words without taking away the meaning behind them.

“Good.” Helen says softly and, just like that, it’s over. “Now, going off of that idea of permanence, I wonder how much of it is habit, like you were saying, and how much of it might be a reflection of the loss you’ve gone through?”

“My experiences have conditioned me for loss?” He interprets.

And Helen shrugs, “Haven’t they?”

John thinks back. The Romani had kept him alive as a child, but they had shipped him off without so much as a goodbye. And while New York had been an improvement, there was still nothing that was his save a stolen Bible. He had left it behind when he ran away to Mexico.

In Mexico, he had shelter. He was a child, but he still had his own tiny place carved out in the world. His own blanket, his own clothes. A worn copy of 1984 that he had stolen from a passenger on the train. It had all been burnt when his village had been razed, leaving him only with the clothes on his back.

The years that followed weren’t much better. He was forced back into the Underworld and while it was far from perfect, he preferred the freedom of it rather than being forced into social services. Being forced to make up some kind of lie to protect his Romani brethren. No, the Underworld was not perfect, but it was all he knew.

He was paid terribly because they could pay him terribly. He was given shit jobs but he took them so he could eat. And once he started growing, he needed new clothes. Over the course of two years, he grew a foot.

When he finally escaped that world again, he took only what he could carry with him. A small duffle full of clothes, a spare pair of shoes, and two knives that didn’t fit on his person.

When he joined the army, he didn’t take anything with him aside from a single book.

And it wasn’t until years later, when he decided enough was enough, and rejoined the fold that he had the ability to settle down.

“I can understand why that may be a part of it.” John admits, “But I think, mostly, it comes down to the fact that I just don’t care about most things.”

“Once again, nihilism makes an entrance.”

John shrugs, “I have more money than I ever dreamed of. And permanence doesn’t matter when I could afford to buy things a thousand times over. The only priceless possessions I have, I keep in my car. Just in case.”

She seems to brighten at that, leaning forward with interest, “And what does John Wick consider to be priceless?”

Not much, he thinks.

Her business card, which she had given him that first day in the café, with her cell phone number etched on the back. He keeps it tucked away in an envelope and locked in his glovebox.

A revolver gifted to him by Marcus. The only present he had ever been given without an expectation of reciprocation.

The copy of Walden he had taken from the little library at the military base where he trained. His only constant companion through three tours of duty.

He decides not to mention the first. “A gun given to me by an old friend. And a copy of Walden.”

“Thoreau.”

John nods.

Helen sits back, “I don’t associate you much with a love for nature. Is it the isolation aspect that attracts you, the civil disobedience piece, or that idea of self-reliance?”

“I would say all of it, although the self-reliance was what first pulled me in. It…” He hesitates, unsure of why he feels the need to share such a little thing with her, “It was the only possession I brought with me everywhere when I was in the army. And when I returned home.”

“It really stayed with you.”

John nods, “I suppose, it helped me learn to think a bit more critically. To challenge the automatic assumptions that came with growing up in the Underworld.”

“I imagine there was a sort of irony about reading such a text while in the military.”

He can’t stop the smile that crosses his lips. He doesn’t have to explain his bizarre humor or reasoning to Helen. She just gets it. “I’ll admit, that was part of the charm. Imposing those shades of grey into my life that were absent in the Underworld and, again, missing from the marines.”

She smiles back, “You pursue that duality in life. Toeing the line of arbitrary rules and ethics, while simultaneously embracing the meaninglessness.”

“Nihilism and Walden have been my constant companions.”

“Let’s add absurdism there for good measure.” She jokes and John finds himself laughing. Something he only does in her presence.  

He loves her. He loves her. He loves her.

He knows it, he feels it so deeply within him, but he can’t act on it. He won’t.

He knows she deserves so much better than him.

“Alright, back on topic.” Helen says with a small smile, “You said something last week that I’ve been considering in relation to this discussion.”

Grateful for the segue, John asks, “Oh?”

She nods, “You were talking about the idea of a normal life. A life away from the Underworld that you wanted, or at least considered, but identified as being out of reach.”

John nods back.

“I wonder, and please feel free to tell me if I’m off the mark, if those desires intersect with your decision to keep your house bare?”

He blinks, taking in her meaning.

His house is empty, in more ways than one. Just him and he doesn’t need anything. And the things he wants, well, he can’t have them. So why bother to fill his house with things that don’t matter? Why fill his house with trinkets when they’ll only serve to remind him of himself? Of the life he lives alone.

And John swears, “Fuck.”

Helen waits, in silence, as she always does while John works through his thoughts.

She’s right, to a degree, but it’s deeper than that.

He wonders if she realizes how much more it is. If she was truly asking him a question or manipulating him into figuring out for herself what she already suspected.

She was good at that. At breaking him down in ways that thousands of assassins never could figure out. He’d survived hundreds of attempts on his life but one question from Helen and he was ready to fall to his knees.

Fuck.

Minutes pass before Helen asks, “John?”

He swallows heavily, “I hate it when you’re right sometimes.”

“Epiphany?”

“Epiphany.” He echoes, “I think…” He hesitates.

She was right. Both today and last week, she had pinpointed the cause.

“I think you give me too much credit.” He had said softly.

“I don’t. But then, we’ve discussed your issues with self-esteem before.”

John rolled his eyes, “I don’t have poor self-esteem.”

“Oh, I agree. You have no self-esteem.”

Self-esteem just didn’t seem like an important thing. His reflective thoughts about himself didn’t affect his ability to work or to kill or to function.

And so, he had written them off as unimportant. Whereas Helen had been telling him, for weeks it seemed, that his sense of self mattered.

He tries not to look at her. He doesn’t need to look to know that she is staring at him kindly, non-judgmentally. Ready to listen and offer comfort.

“It’s okay, John.” She says softly, “You know you can say anything here.”

Anything, he thinks, except the words he swallows back every night.

He lets out a breath, “You’re right. About the self-esteem thing.”

She nods once, waiting for him to continue.

“I… don’t understand it, fully. I don’t get why it matters how I see myself but, I guess it does. At the end of the day, I don’t deserve a normal life. And I don’t deserve the things that come with it. Even if the things are just small tokens of normalcy.”

A moment passes that feels like an eternity to John.

“I want you to know, I’m unbelievably proud of you right now.”

He doesn’t want to look at her after that confession, but her words force him to raise his head in stunned disbelief. She can’t be serious…

But she’s staring at him in earnest, smiling softly, looking at him with kindness and gentleness and yes, with pride. She’s looking at him with pride in her eyes and he can’t quite figure out why.

And, as if she can sense his confusion, she adds, “You’ve been coming here for seven months and, for most of that time, you’ve been fairly resistant to actually being vulnerable.”

“I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone.” John argues.

“I know. And I appreciate your trust in me. But there’s a difference between trusting me with legalities and learning to trust yourself enough to admit to these feelings. You’ve been sitting on these emotions for the better part of your life, John. Keeping them hidden or ignoring them. We joke about your nihilism when I think we both know that it’s easier to pretend nothing matters when we start to feel things too heavily.”

He sits with that.

God, is that what he’s been doing?

Ignoring his own self-hatred by ignoring anything that has to do with himself?

Filling his free time with work to keep him busy or reading, filling his mind with rationality and bullshit intellectualism rather than dealing with the emotions that linger below the surface?

But what else was he supposed to do?

Emotions were ignored most of his childhood, when fighting for survival was the precedent. And he just never learned.

Fuck.

Helen assesses him carefully, “What are you thinking, John?”

He’s not even entirely sure what he’s thinking but he settles on, “Life seemed simpler when my only focus was survival.”

She nods, thoughtfully, “I’m sure it did. Thought some people might argue that emotions offer a lot of evolutionary benefits.”

“Like what?”

“Well, anxiety warns us when we might be in danger. Anger helps us to protect ourselves. Sadness can help us to process complex events. Happiness and joy help us bond and create social alliances.”

She lets him mull that over before adding, “Your emotions are as much of a tool as your eyes and ears looking and listening for potential enemies.”

He considers that, too.

He gets her point. He really does, but his eyes and ears have never fucked with him the way his emotions did.

“I think it comes down to control.” He says thoughtfully.

“Oh?”

“I can close my eyes. I can choose not to listen. But my emotions…”

“You can’t shut them off. And ignoring only works for so long.”

“Yeah.”

Helen nods, “Our emotions are, arguably, one of the most complicated things to understand. And you’re right, they are one of the hardest things to control and while there are ways to change our thinking and challenge our automatic thoughts, we often can’t help what we feel.”

John knew that well.

He couldn’t help the hopelessness and the loneliness he experienced as a child.

He couldn’t help the intense anger at watching his first real home be burned to the ground.

He couldn’t help the contempt he felt for himself whenever he looked to deep inside himself.

And he certainly couldn’t help the intense obsession and other unnamable emotions that arose in him whenever he thought about Helen.

It wasn’t like he had tried to change any of it, though.

“Sometimes,” he admits softly, “I think that I force myself to feel the bad emotions. To force myself to suffer.”

Again, she nods, “Earlier you used the term deserve.”

“I don’t deserve anything.”

Fuck, did he really just say that? Out loud? To her?

He probably sounded like a whiny teenager. But Helen doesn’t look at him with annoyance or contempt.

She just inclines her head, “You know, I have a lot of clients who come in here and use the same language. I deserve this. I don’t deserve that.”

“I doubt most of your other client have killed people.”

In fact, he knows they haven’t. He had a background check run for every single person on her caseload to make sure she was safe in the hour she spent with them each week.

Helen, however, ignores him. “For most, it’s based on the Just World Theory. A sort of westernized karma that subscribes to the idea that the world is a fair place. And I know that you know, more than most, that this world is not a fair place.”

“No.” He agrees. “It’s not.”

Helen shakes her head, “We often bestow judgement. Upon ourselves, the people around us. Total strangers, even. And I’m as guilty as it as anyone,” he doubts that but she continues, “But you know what?”

“What?”

She shrugs a shoulder, “Doesn’t do a damn thing, offering judgement. It doesn’t change our past, our future. It doesn’t help us.” Her tone softens, “I know it’s not my place to offer an opinion…”

John shakes his head, “You know I value your thoughts.”

“I don’t know if God exists or if there’s a higher power. But I do know that we don’t get to decide who deserves what. We get dealt our hand and we do the best we can with it. And the more we fight that, the more we tell ourselves that we deserve better or worse, the more miserable we make ourselves.”

He hears her.

And he gets her point, he really does.

It’s not his position to make judgements. He doesn’t have a say in the twists and turns of luck that have amassed him a great wealth.

But it must be wrong because his most glaring example is looking into his eyes. He’s certain that he and Helen are not the same.

Helen is good, and kind, and gentle.

And John is harsh, and dark, and bad.

He’s not sure he can accept a world that views them on an equal playing field.

“You don’t have to believe me.” She tells him, her voice soft and understanding. He wonders, not for the first time, if she can read his mind. “But just consider it, okay?”

…..

He considers it. He spends the rest of the day considering it.

At the Continental, eating dinner, John found himself trying to challenge his automatic assumptions about the people around him.

Assassins, killers.

But did he really know anything else about them? Beyond rumors and hushed whispers? The same kind that followed him, that had turned John Wick into the Boogeyman.

He ponders her words: the more we tell ourselves that we deserve better or worse, the more miserable we make ourselves.

He was an expert at misery.

At best, he was a master of apathy. Hiding his misery under layers of not-caring. Like she said, it was easier to pretend that nothing mattered. It was easier to accept the self-hatred, or at the very least self-contempt, when he could just shrug it off.

Idly, he wonders what would happen if he just continues to ignore it.

Even as he thinks it, however, he knows it’s ridiculous. Helen could sit there and berate him for an hour each week and he’d still sit there happily.

With that thought in mind, he paid for his dinner and left the Continental. Tomorrow, he’ll come back in the early morning. Nap for a bit, then take a contract or two.

He wonders if it’s his obsession with Helen that will keep him in New York or his aversion to returning to his empty home after having that conversation. Neither seems to be a particularly healthy choice but he accepts it nonetheless.

He drives to her house and tries not to think of it as home.

He knows that something is wrong the moment he sees the house.

Helen is energy conscious. She rarely leaves a room without turning out the light. And right now, it is past her bedtime and the kitchen light is on.

He stops the car for a moment, just outside of her house, wondering if he’ll see a shadow move. Maybe he’s being paranoid. Maybe she just got up for water.

But nothing moves.

John throws the car in park. Normally, he’d hide the car a few blocks down and walk back to her house, but he doesn’t care. Quickly, he unlatches the glovebox to pull out his gun. He doesn’t even check it as he hurries out of his car.

The door is shut but the lock has been picked open. And not by him. No, whoever had done this didn’t have the skill to leave no marks in the metal. It was a rough, haggard job. And it was left unlocked.

Fuck.

He opens the door, gun-raised.

His head seems to be screaming a chorus of no, no, no, no, no, no as he clears the kitchen. He should clear the entire first floor, but his fear is outweighing his senses.

Emotional mind Helen would call it.

Her bed is empty but slept in. It wasn’t made and it looked as though she had thrashed about.

Someone had taken her from her bed.

He was shaking.

John was unsure if it was rage or fear that was pounding through him right now, but someone was going to pay.

A phone rings and it takes John a moment to recognize it as his own.

The screen has her name. Her work cell.

John accepts the call and puts the phone to his ear.

“Hello, John.” The voice is male. He doesn’t recognize it but there is a slight accent that he can’t quite place.

“Where is she?” He asks trying not to sound as desperate as he feels.

“Safe. For now.”

“Put her on the phone.”

“I’m afraid Miss Kingston has been sedated for the time being.”

“If you’ve hurt her…”

“I believe that now is not the time for you to be making threats.” His unknown opponent interrupts.

John tries to control himself. He can’t act until he knows more. The disgust pours from his voice as he forces himself to ask, “What do you want?”

“Very good.”

John closes his eyes and tries to focus on what it will feel like when he guts this man alive.

“Lorenzo D’Antonio will be in New York from tomorrow night through Monday.”

John can already tell where this is going. Lorenzo D’Antonio was the Camorra’s current leader. He held a seat at the High Table which made him virtually untouchable. No contract could be taken out against him or the Continental, and the High Table, would respond with force. To be caught even conspiring was to be dead.

“And you want him killed.” John finished.

“Not just Lorenzo. His heirs, as well.”

John let out a noise of disbelief. With Lorenzo dead, followed by his children, the Camorra would collapse.

Christ.

John had never given a flying fuck about Continental politics. He followed their rules to gain their services but this…

“And you’ll let her go?”

“Right into your waiting arms.” The man taunted.

John felt his nails digging into his palm as he struggled to maintain what little control he had left. “I want proof that she’s all right.”

“Fine.”

The line drops.

[breakingsomething]

the fall part twenty - all hallow's eve

basic summary: it's jamie's birthday, and his brothers are determined to make his day good for him. also, rhea, jackie and aaron do bad shit again. surprise, surprise.

trigger warnings: flashback, extreme distress, hypnosis

tagslist: @synonymsforzombie @spicydanhowell @skyewardlight @dreaming-of-stories-and-stars @cest-mellow @graveyardlettuce @lower-your-expectationss

"jamie, jamie, jamie! get the hell up, man!"

jamie groaned and rolled over, unfolding his arms and blinking in the sudden light. above him, he could see a blonde head, blue eyes and a big grin, along with a hand that shook his shoulder. "wakey wakey, eggs and bakey. well, pancakes and bakey. or just pancakes. we made pancakes. jamie, wake u-up!"

jamie pulled a hand from underneath the covers and flipped chase the bird before yanking his blankets over his head.

"oh, don't be like that," he heard chase scoff. suddenly the blankets were being torn off, and jamie hissed playfully, unable to hide a grin. chase laughed. "get up, lazy ass! and happy birthday! happy halloween birthday to the pumpkins!"

he left the room, leaving the door wide open. jamie rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh despite no one being there to see it. he sat up and finally got out of bed, glancing at his phone (not that he needed to in order to know what time it was, he was always aware of the time anyway) to see it was eleven o'clock. he'd slept a full ten hours. better than usual, he thought as he pulled some clothes out of the assorted pile his brothers had put together for him from their own wardrobes. usually he only got about seven.

he brushed his hair and went downstairs, where everyone was sitting in the kitchen, eating breakfast with innocent smiles. they had been talking in hushed tones but immediately went quiet when jamie came in, trying and failing to act completely natural. "ok, what's going on?" jamie sighed dramatically, swinging his hands out as he signed. "is it a special day or something?"

"happy happy birthday!" marvin cheered, pushing a huge box from underneath the kitchen table. henrik and chase followed suit with slightly smaller boxes, grinning. "you're thirty and also three now! like two birthdays in one!"

jameson couldn't help but laugh. "i don't need presents - you guys are sweet, though. please, don't do too much just for me."

"but it's your first birthday with us!" chase cried, lifting his box onto the table. "this is fudging special! also, we have to do gift unwrapping and cake cutting soon, cause i gotta go get the kids in like, half an hour. stacy's actually coming with us to take them trick or treating, how cool is that?" marvin and henrik cheered, and jamie clapped with a big grin at the delighted look on chase's face. "i know, right? oh my god, before we do birthday stuff, guess what louise is going as for halloween."

"sonic," marvin said immediately.

chase giggled, pushing his cap up further as jamie sat himself down on the seat next to him. "you'd think, huh? but no. try again."

"someone from teenage mutant ninja turtles?" henrik asked before taking a sip of his coffee. chase shook his head.

marvin blew his hair out his face. "anyone from sonic at all?"

chase grinned and nodded. "she's going as tails the fox. do you wanna know why?" the other three nodded. chase leaned back in his chair. "because she's making connor go as sonic. she wants to be tails this year because he can fly."

there was a pause before everyone laughed, henrik choking on his coffee. "dear god," he managed once he'd finished his coughing fit. "that's the first time in maybe four years she hasn't gone as sonic, correct?"

"yes!" chase wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. "she came up to me and stacy and was like "mama, papa, i don't want to go as sonic this year" and we were internally like "finally, she's leaving her sonic obsession behind" and stacy goes "oh, so who do you want to be?" all sweetly and connor - connor fudging runs in dressed all in blue like "i'm sonic now!" swear to god i lost my mind. i'm still losing my mind, christ."

jamie listened to them chatter for a few minutes, content just to hear them talk. he'd missed a lot in his life, it seemed. maybe now was the time to catch up. just the thought made him smile.

"so jamie!" marvin said, snapping him from his thoughts. "present time! open mine last, i think you'll really like it."

"my present is probably the most pathetic," henrik said sheepishly, sliding the crinkly, rectangular package over to him. "i didn't really know what to get you and i've been - ok, i won't give excuses. i hope you like it anyway."

jamie smiled wide. "thank you, henrik. i wasn't expecting a lot anyway. honestly, i don't like receiving gifts. makes me feel strange. but you guys are too nice, you really are."

he gently undid the paper and grinned at the contents. a large stack of candles, all different scents and such. "henrik, this is great!"

henrik shrugged, trying to hold back a small smile. "i'm glad you like it. i was worried you would think it was silly."

the next present was chase's. he seemed very excited to hand over his present, practically vibrating as he passed him the large box. it rattled as jamie took it, something sliding around the top. "it's two presents in one," chase beamed, shaking hair out his face. "come on, open it!"

"give the man a second to breathe, chaser," marvin laughed as jamie rolled his eyes teasingly, deliberately making fun of chase's impatience by opening the box extremely slowly. by the time he'd opened it fully, chase was almost standing in his chair. jamie stuck his tongue out and pulled out a box of chocolate poptarts, to which he raised an eyebrow with a grin.

chase groaned. "those are just extra, look at the real present beneath! i wanna see what you think!"

it was a strange sort of ball. "it's called a moon light," chase explained. "they're so pretty! i thought you could use one for your room, even if you can't see the colours."

jamie turned it over in his hands, smiling. "it's beautiful," he signed once he'd set it down. "i love it so much, thank you."

marvin pushed his box over, grunting with the effort. "ok, so you said not to get you much, but your room was so empty and i wanted to get you something good," he said. "i think you might like this. but be careful, it's fragile."

jamie groaned. "oh, good gods," he signed before picking the box up - it was very heavy - and setting it on the table. "marvin, i don't need anything big."

"hey, it's just one thing," marvin protested. "we've barely given you anything."

"you gave me a home," jamie said without thinking. "you didn't have to do that but you did, even though you had no reason to trust me. you could have sent me away and you didn't and i honestly believe that's the best thing you could ever done for me."

he stared at the package without blinking and didn't look up at his brothers.

"oh - oh, jamie," marvin said softly. "fuck, of course we'd give you a home. you're our brother and we love you."

"yeah!" chase chipped in. "we know you're not anti, and we know you don't think like him. jackie was the fool there."

"you've never given us reason not to trust you," henrik murmured. he placed a hand on jamie's, so gently. "you're a wonderful man and we all know it. we wouldn't do all this for you if we didn't trust you, and we do. we do, ok? we love you so much."

jamie suddenly felt lucky he talked using his hands, otherwise he'd be bursting into tears. he nodded vigorously and quickly unwrapped his present, gasping softly when he saw the beautiful vinyl player inside the box. shiny and dark, with a frank sinatra vinyl at the top of the box. jamie blinked, taking it in. "marvin, it's - beautiful, thank you. this is too much, how much even was this?"

marvin grinned. "a magician never reveals his secrets."

"let's set it up in your room," henrik said excitedly, eyes shining. "oh, i love vinyls, i don't even have a player for them but i own so many and i'm sure you can borrow them -"

"ah, 'scuze me," chase interrupted, holding up both hands. "i have to leave very soon. it's saturday. let's do cake and then i'm bolting."

marvin leapt up, singing to himself as he danced round the table, and jamie snorted. "we're actually doing cake? seriously?"

"of course we are!" marvin almost shouted, digging through the fridge. "who do you think we are, james? a family that doesn't do cake? unheard of." he turned round, an enormous grin on his face as he lifts the pink cake up. "it's cake time, gentlemen!"

they cut slices of the cake, laughing and talking and complimenting marvin on the cake, which he'd apparently baked himself. jamie got the biggest slice and almost couldn't manage the full thing despite how good it was. about twenty minutes later, chase got up to leave, ruffling jamie's curls as way of saying goodbye. "see you fuckers later," he said, doing finger guns before wincing. "shit, i should stop swearing. fuck. i mean - not fuck. just - ahhh, i'll see you dorks later. adios."

"dorks? really?" henrik called after him. chase stuck his hand through the front door again to flip him off.

the rest of the day passed pretty smoothly. chase texted them a few times with updates, at one point sending pictures of the kid's fantastic costumes mixed in with heart eyed reaction images. the three other brothers went out to mcdonald's for lunch and got enough chips to fill nearly a whole tray, which was apparently enough to make chase jealous. he later sent pictures of him, connor and louise at the park with huge ice creams in hand. "gods, it's no wonder people call us childish," jamie laughed teasingly, dipping about ten chips into his own tub of ice cream at once.

"who's calling us childish?" marvin jokingly exclaimed, crossing his eyes and making an exaggerated face of anger. "give me names, i'll challenge them to a duel."

"point proven," henrik sing-songed, sticking his tongue out. "don't cross your eyes or your face will get stuck like that. james, i cannot believe you eat your chips with ice cream and genuinely believe it tastes nice. you are a disgrace to humanity."

"let's all dip our chips in ice cream to piss off henrik," marvin grinned, and he and jamie smacked their soggy chips together with a cry of "cheers!" henrik spluttered, shaking his head in disgust.

"people like you are the reason the mcdonald's ice cream machines are always broken," he scoffed, flicking some ketchup from his burger at marvin. "the employees see you coming and go "ah, scheisse, it is the magic cat bastard again, about to dip his chips in ice cream like some kind of animal. sorry, sir, machines are broke." you disgust me."

"a-w, what about me?" jamie pouted teasingly, sticking out his bottom lip.

"not you, jamie, you are a treasure and we're happy to have you here," henrik said warmly. then he made a face at marvin. "you, however -"

they were interrupted when chase sent a photo of him, stacy and the kids, chase proudly holding up a cheese and onion bake from gregg's. they then all collectively agreed he was a teasing bastard and moved on.

they bickered all the way home about what movie to watch. "it's halloween," henrik argued, smoothing his hair out his face. "we should obviously watch a nightmare before christmas."

"i think we should watch dawn of the dead just to piss chase off," marvin grinned.

"what, dawn of the dead, 2004, you mean?" henrik laughed. marvin shook his head, grimacing and widening his eyes in mock horror.

"i think chase would kill us," he giggled. "which might be funny, but it's jamie's birthday, so he should pick." they both turned to him. "what do you think?"

jamie shrugged. "i don't know. i haven't seen all that many films, even when i was with you. i did watch a few with anti, though."

"ooh, like what?" marvin asked curiously. he nearly walked into a streetlamp but managed to smoothly dodge it. "what movies did the fantastic antisepticeye have to show?"

jamie wiggled his mustache, thinking. "hot fuzz. and i watched a documentary about penguins when he was passed out once. then there was the night we were both up with nightmares and pulled an all nighter to watch a movie about chickens."

"another documentary?" henrik wondered. "anti doesn't seem like the documentary type."

jamie shook his head. "no, an animated one. it had a chicken and a - a fish and a goose and a pig? i think?"

"...charlotte's web?" henrik guessed slowly.

marvin elbowed him. "charlotte's web was about a spider, you numpty. d'you mean, uh… chicken run?"

"free birds?" henrik asked. "me and chase watched that last year with connor and louise."

"wasn't that about turkeys?" marvin giggled.

henrik rolled his eyes. "and when was there a fish in charlotte's web?"

"there was definitely a fish in charlotte's web!"

"they lived on a farm -"

dapper whistled sharply, interrupting them. "no, no. there were aliens. robot aliens. made the sky fall like jackie did."

the two went silent. then henrik spoke. "are you saying you and anti watched chicken little?"

jamie snapped his fingers. "that's the bitch!"

marvin let out a disbelieving laugh. "chicken little? the little bitch with the glasses and the goose girlfriend or something? and anti watched it with you?"

"to be fair, we were both tired and miserable and didn't really care all that much," dapper signed casually. "i think we fell asleep anyway. i just remember during the incident with jackie, i was thinking about that chicken."

there was a long pause as they crossed the street and walked past the corner shop in the direction of their flat. "i don't believe it," henrik eventually mumbled. "fucking - anti. fucking anti willingly watching chicken little with you. i can't picture it. i can't. that's literally incomprehensible to me."

by the time they got home, it was four o'clock, and they decided on ordering pizza for dinner. "i haven't eaten a single healthy food today," marvin announced, almost proudly. "i want a meat feast with barbeque sauce and stuffed crust."

"how much money do you think we have, bastard?" henrik despaired, but when he called the pizza place to ask for hawaiian for himself and plain cheese for jamie, he heard him add stuffed crust to marvin's order.

they sat down in the living room and started up the tv, the three of them snuggling up on the one couch. "you mock us for chips and ice cream, yet you eat pineapple on pizza," marvin accused, throwing his legs across jamie's.

"hawaiian pizza is perfectly respectable," henrik said lightly. "anyway, let's watch a movie. then we can set up the player in jamie's room while we wait for chase to come back."

"will we get trick or treaters?" jamie wondered. neither man saw his hands, so he whistled and repeated the question. henrik shook his head.

"we don't get them because we live in a flat," henrik said. "i suppose since we're on the bottom and therefore get two floors, we could technically try it. maybe next year."

"definitely next year," jamie agreed. "it sounds fun."

they did end up watching a nightmare before christmas while they ate their pizza. the music and animation was lovely, and henrik didn't shut up the whole time. "i absolutely love this song," he said as the oogie-boogie man appeared on screen with his dice. "i used to listen to the soundtrack of this film all the time, it always manages to fit with each character and such -"

"henrik," marvin said gently. "shush."

it was near the end of the film when someone chapped at the door. "i thought you said we didn't get trick or treaters?" jamie asked, to which marvin got up and went to go answer. jamie took henrik's hand. he hated the small part of him that was still so ridiculously afraid, especially on today of all days.

they heard the door open. "trick or treat!" came two small voices, and one familiar one. jamie and henrik laughed in relief upon hearing chase and the kids coming inside, laughing and chattering loudly. marvin peeked into the room and grinned.

"guess who's back!" he cheered. behind him, connor and louise leapt in, still wearing their costumes. everyone cheered as they posed to show them off, huge grins on their little faces. "it's sonic and tails themselves, in the flesh!"

"uncle jam, hen, marv!" the children cried, cheeks dark with cold and excitement. "look at us, we can fly and go super speed!"

"very nice!" henrik affirmed warmly, and he lifted connor onto his lap as he spun by. "come here, you ridiculous fox boy. how many sweeties did you get?"

"lots!" connor cried, and he tossed his bag from his gloved fingers onto the couch besides jamie. "dump it out, uncle jam, i wanna show off my sweets! louise - no, tails, come over here! come show your sweets. papa! where are you?"

"right here," said chase. he was laughing, and jamie realized why as he came into view; he was wearing a mask with a frankly terrifying face on it. "evening, gamers. how are we all doing?"

"what - what are you?" henrik asked in horror over the sound of marvin and jamie's laughter.

chase pulled up the mask and made a mock hurt face. "hey, i'm shadow the hedgehog! i'm being a good father by cosplaying with my kids." he lowered his voice as he shrugged his jacket off. "they made stacy go as amy."

"although technically sonic and shadow aren't friends for a long time, because shadow's really sad about maria's death and he does a lot of bad stuff that sonic doesn't like to make up for it," louise suddenly said, dropping to her knees on the floor and spilling her sweets out. "although shadow does help sonic save the world in sonic adventure 2 to try and fulfill maria's last wishes. it's not all shadow's fault, though. he was made to save maria and he failed and that really hurt him. he also got put in suspen-ded ani-ma-tion for a while, then he got used as a weapon by eggman. he's not really a bad guy. he's just had a lot of bad stuff happen to him and i love him. oh, con, i got a wispa!"

"lemme see!" connor shrieked, leaping off henrik's lap to join his sister on the floor. jamie turned to henrik and marvin with raised eyebrows, slightly taken aback and completely astonished.

"she knows a lot about sonic," chase whispered, sitting down beside them. "it's her favourite thing. one of my favourite things to do is ask her any question about it and listen to her ramble. it's so sweet. hey, lou!" louise turned round to look at him, a chocolate bar hanging out her mouth. chase grinned. "tell us some more about shadow and maria."

louise's eyes lit up. "oh! ok! well, maria was the granddaughter of this guy called gerald robotnik, who's eggman's grandfather, and gerald, kinda, he created shadow as an experiment to help maria, who was really sick…"

it was maybe ten minutes before henrik went to go make some hot chocolate for everyone, and then shouted out in surprise. "hey, what the f- what are these pumpkins doing here?"

"oh!" chase yelped, leaping to his feet. "i completely forgot! guys, guys, i said i was gonna get pumpkins for us to carve and i did! jamie, come see, we're carving pumpkins!"

and he had indeed bought pumpkins. connor and louise had each already picked one out, and jamie, henrik and marvin made a big show of arguing over the others, which really made the kids laugh. as they set up plastic bags all over the living room floor, jamie began to get really excited. he knew that he has carved a pumpkin in his introduction video that jack made, the video that had been deleted minutes after being uploaded with only anti able to recover it, but jamie didn't remember it. the weight of the pumpkin didn't feel familiar in his hands. smooth, slightly wet. the sensation was kind of awful. but jamie wasn't about to tell anyone else that. the kids were enjoying themselves, and he wasn't about to ruin that.

"now we draw faces and whatnot on them," chase said, pulling some sharpies from his pocket and tossing them in the air. "let's go, gamers. con, lou, i'll help if you need any. are you doing scary face or silly face? i can do both."

it was nearly seven o'clock now. jamie wasn't sure why, but he found something felt so off with every line he drew on the pumpkin's surface. a strange feeling of deja vu. which was ridiculous, of course. jameson hadn't ever carved a pumpkin.

"ok, now the cutting!" chase announced cheerfully. too cheerfully for the words he was saying. even in context, jamie felt sick. "louise and connor, you are absolutely not doing this part yourselves. henrik, can you - thank you, thanks. looking fantastic, jamie! how are you enjoying your carving experience?"

jamie managed to smile as he looked up, head bobbing like a doll. "good," he signed, dropping his pen. he noticed connor had gone with a scary face with gnashing teeth, and louise had gone with a cheery face with squinty eyes. "they look great, kids."

"thank you, jam-jam!" connor squealed in a silly voice, with louise repeating right after. jamie laughed silently, feeling his head spin.

"you know how to carve it, right, james?" marvin asked. jamie jumped at his voice. marvin had pulled his hair back into a bun, a sharpie behind his ear. his grin faded slightly. "are you ok? you look a little pale."

"fine," jamie signed. he picked up the knife.

he picked up the knife

he picked up the k

"come on, dapper. you just - cut right here." anti's voice, free from static. warm and irish. "you can do it, dap. i believe in you."

blood blood blood blood blood bl

"dapper - dapper, look up. come on, you useless fuck - don't - oh, don't pass out. i'm right fucking here."

blood blood blood

"hey, dap. you're doing good. keep a hold on that knife now, eh? don't let anyone sneak up on you. always be on the lookout, that's my motto."

blood

"hey, dapper ----. look up, lift your chin."

anti's face swam into view. he looked younger. stubble on his face, shorter, less curly hair, thick gauges in his ears. a black scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. he flashed a forced smile, showing sharp fangs. "there we go. stay still and let me get these bandages on you. i'm sure you're tired, having used so much magic to keep yourself alive." he laughed hoarsely, shaking his head. "a time traveler. i can't believe ---- sent me a time traveler. ha, happy one year death anniversary to us, ----, thank you for this lovely present -"

he was more talking to himself now. dapper ---- was happy to let him. this man was kind, helping to fix up his wounds. anti - his name was anti, right? - gently wrapped the bandages round his cleaned throat. his fingers were cold. so were his eyes. dapper ---- couldn't tell what colour they were, but they looked like ice. when their eyes met, he felt a shiver go down his spine.

"look at you," anti murmured, and he smoothed dapper ----'s hair from his face. it felt nice, and he leaned into the touch. anti hummed softly. "look at you. my time traveler. so much untapped power. i think we're gonna have fun, dapper ----." he smirked. "ha, maybe i should come up with a better name. dapper's a shit name. and as funny as it would be to call you ----, i think i'd have to kill you. look up, dap-dap. ok, nevermind, that's an awful nickname. dapper it is."

he took his hands away and leaned back, studying him. they looked so alike. twins, almost. dapper ---- lifted his hands to his neck to grace the bandages, wincing. anti watched him.

"thank you," dapper ---- signed.

anti frowned. "what's that sign?" he repeated it after him, placing his hand to his chin and extending it outwards. "i don't know any bsl."

dapper tried to mouth the words, but he wasn't used to moving his mouth to form words, and he knew he looked clumsy. "thank you," he signed again, trying to make his tongue go to the right places. anti's eyes widened in understanding, and he signed it too, both of them moving in unison.

"ok, cool!" anti beamed. he made the sign again. "i should learn bsl. might come in handy, and i suppose if i have to put up with you, i might as bloody well. oh, don't look so put out, dap." anti tilted his head and his smile faded to a more genuine state, less forced. "i suppose a weapon like you is worth learning a language for."

"jamie, jamie, jamie - look up, hey. it's just me, be - be careful, drop that knife. drop that knife, james. look up. look up at me."

his hands were covered in - no, they weren't covered in blood, they weren't, they weren't. they were shaking. just shaking. pale, white hands. silver knife. dapper knew what silver looked like.

"jamie." warm and irish. not anti. of course not anti. dapper would never hear anti's voice again. "jamie. hey - chase, get the kids upstairs. pumpkin's are basically done anyway. jameson, hey, it's me. it's marvin. henrik's here too. can you look up, hon? come on, it's ok, you're ok. just us."

just them. kitten, doctor, jinx, dapper, and the gunman's children. six peas in a pod. he was going to be sick.

"fine," he signed numbly. "i'm fine. i'm fine."

once upon a time there was a scared time traveler without a voice and without a soul of his own, born into a world that wanted him dead from the beginning, a world that he came into bleeding, a world that knew the pain that was in store and tried to end it for him early, a world that was cold but contained a brother who spoke in lies and said he loved him, said he was safe, anti, i was never safe and you are a fucking fool, why did you let me save myself, why do i have to still love you?

"i want this to stop," dapper signed, jameson signed, damien signed, mustache signed, anti signed, what was his fucking name again? "i'm just tired. i'm sorry."

"that's ok," kitten - marvin - murmured softly. he touched dapper's - jameson's, jamie's - hand just slightly, grounding him. "we're here. it's ok. it's ok."

it wasn't ok. it was never ok.

-

that night, jamie awoke with a nightmare.

he wasn't sure what it was, just that when he sat up in bed, his heart was racing loudly in his ears and he was sweating, breathing hard like he'd been running. maybe he had, in his dream. a few minutes passed before he slipped out of bed and padded down to the kitchen to get a drink of water. he definitely needed one.

he couldn't believe he'd lost it like that. in front of the kids, as well - jamie had never been so ashamed of himself. just from holding a knife! he shook his head in disgust, balling his fists up and digging his uneven nails into his palms. it was pathetic how easily upset he was. how easy it was to become silly, naive little dapper again. some days he wondered if he was even jameson jackson at all.

he got a drink. a cup of water, then another, to soothe his pounding headache. his whole body felt slightly numb, and in the silence of the house, he could hear his slightly wheezing breaths. he drank more water. his chest felt that little bit looser.

then something crashed outside and jamie was up like a shot.

he could hear someone just outside the front door. someone scrabbling to pick something up, someone groaning and making small, pained noises. jamie's heart raced as he marched to the door, hand on the lock. he realized he wasn't armed. didn't have a knife on him like he usually did. always be on the lookout, was his motto.

well, if there was anything jamie had learned from being dapper, it was that anything could work as a weapon if you were caught off guard. he grabbed the broom that was leaning on the sideboard and threw the door open, jabbing the handle out the door to hit whatever intruder might be there. instead, he heard someone gasp loudly, and just managed to see a glitching flash of light before the person scrambled to the side of the door, just barely out of jamie's line of sight. they'd left a bag on the ground. a black and white flying tiger bag - one of jamie's favourite stores back when he was dapper. he picked it up, not looking to his left to see the intruder. he could hear them breathing. jamie peeked inside the bag, blocking everything else out as he looked.

a black sketchbook. a black sketchbook and a plastic container of greyscale markers. not only that, but there was a millie's cookies bag, containing what jamie knew to be a deluxe rainbow cookie. anti had always joked about the irony of them being his favourite. he laughed silently and opened the sketchbook to the first page. inside, scribbled in the top left corner, was the word "payback" with a small >:) face next to it.

jamie could see anti out the corner of his eye, still pressed against the wall. he didn't look at him. instead, he pulled his phone from his pocket - thank the gods he'd fallen asleep in his clothes - and quickly opened his text to speech app. there was an awkward pause while he did so, and for a moment jamie was afraid anti would bolt regardless of whether he was still there. but then it loaded and he wrote what he had to say, fingers flying across the keyboard, and held the phone up for the other man to hear.

thank you for the present. and thank you for having the sense to not try and deliver it until you thought i was asleep, even if you are a dumbass and alerted me anyway. night, anti.

anti didn't reply, of course. jamie didn't look at him. he simply closed the door and went back inside.

-

"evening, auggie! you're back early, i thought you were having a halloween celebration or something."

anti rolled his eyes at the sound of his roommate's voice. it was coming from the kitchen, so anti shrugged his jacket off and went straight to his room instead. carlos followed him. "hey, where you going? it's an all hallow's eve full moon, mate! come on, have a drink or something."

anti flipped him off. carlos pouted, sticking his already very pointy chin out further. he looked a lot like shaggy from scooby doo, anti thought, and tried not to laugh at the thought.

carlos held up a hand before turning and darting into the living room, coming out a moment later with a notebook and pen. "gotta keep one of these handy at all times, huh?" he laughed, snorting. anti resisted the urge to roll his eyes again, and carlos collected himself. "so. were you at a halloween party or something?"

anti frowned and began to write. no, why the fuck would i be? do i look like i go to holiday themed parties?

carlos raised his hands. "ok, ok. you left with a bag, and also you asked if we owned "wrapping paper or some fucking shit along those line, maybe even a bloody bow at the very least" earlier, so i assumed you were going to a party."

who the fuck gives presents for halloween???

carlos shrugged. "i dunno, you?"

anti sighed deeply. it's my brother's birthday, fuck's sake. can you move out my way so i can go to my room please?

"what - oh hey, no, stay and have a drink!" carlos protested, moving to block anti's way again. "come on, august, you're no fun. anyway, if it's your brother's birthday, why didn't you stay and celebrate with him? it looks like you just dropped his present and bolted."

anti snorted. basically. we're not on the best of terms. he wouldn't have wanted to see me. also, i can't drink. i'm fairly certain i've told you this.

carlos shook his hair out his face, scratching the back of his neck. "why'd you give him a present then? also, i know you can drink because you bought like, three bottles of jack daniel's a week or so ago, you're talking pish. now stop being antisocial and have fun for once."

anti's pen scribbled across the page. i have epilepsy, you bastard. also, i don't have to explain myself to you. so go away.

carlos crossed his arms. "this is my flat. you're the one who's paying to stay here. also, also, you probably shouldn't be drinking if that's a trigger for your epilepsy or whatever? that's not a good idea? why would you do that to yourself, anyway?"

because i hate myself. also, you pay to stay here too. you just paid first.

he tried to push by carlos, but the man spread his arms out to block his way, a cheeky grin on his face. anti wanted to hit him. "now now, auggie, i am not letting you spend the rest of your night being depressed in your room. you do that every night. even if you don't drink, come and sit in the living room at least! i was planning to invite some friends round if that's ok by you. it'll be fun!"

anti clenched his fists, face twitching before he calmed himself enough to write again. i'd rather sleep for twelve hours than watch you make out with your partners all night. if you aren't going to move i will fucking stab you and i am not joking.

to anti's absolute rage, carlos just laughed upon reading what he'd written. "you're funny, aug. and they have names, you know. johanna and robert. they're cool people! you might like them." he raised an eyebrow, showing his palms to the ceiling. "johanna's a firefighter, and robert collects knives. you like knives, right? i think you could be friends."

anti tried to keep ahold of his anger, but really, he was still partially in a good mood from jameson accepting his present, and he was also too tired to do much. he sank into himself, blowing the air out his cheeks. i don't want to, ok? not tonight.

carlos sighed. "i - sure. sure. but mate, you really have to stop isolating yourself. i'll admit i don't know a lot about you, but i'd like to, you know? you seem like a cool guy." he stepped aside, leaving room for anti to go into his room. then he widened his eyes, and held up a hand. "wait! let me show you what i learned." he pinched his thumb and pointer finger together in an open and closed motion in front of his face. the sign for "talk." then carlos frowned. "i, uh, forgot the sign for "later." i swear i learned it. i'm trying to learn, like, basic phrases. here, i can -" he held up his hands and signed each letter of the word "later," grinning proudly once he'd finished.

anti blinked in surprise. he wasn't even sure what to say - the fact that this man he barely knew was doing anything for him was amazing. slowly, hesitantly, he put out his pointer finger and dragged it through the air, pausing a couple of times. "later." carlos repeated after him. he smiled wide.

"cool!" he breathed, signing the full phrase. "i should definitely learn more bsl. might as well if i'm gonna be putting up with you, eh, august?" he laughed and stepped back, nearly walking into the living room doorway. "thanks. you're cool, mate."

anti just nodded. then he turned and went into the darkness of his room.

he didn't want to turn the light on. it was far too quiet, so he threw himself down on his bed and put his headphones on, staring out the window. carlos had been right - there was a full moon. a full moon on halloween. strange. that almost never happened.

anti's heart was racing and he wasn't sure why. he placed his fingers on his wrist to check his pulse, then on the area behind his ears. why was he suddenly so worked up? he almost laughed. it was always the littlest things these days. always the littlest things.

he closed his eyes and listened to the music in his ears.

-

kazuki kamata was an unusual woman.

anyone who knew her would tell you that. while she was kind, she was also sometimes merciless, and would do almost anything for those she cared about. she was a protector. she was fire and she was ice. no one knew where she went at nights when she left hecate. no one knew who her friends or family were. no one knew if kazuki was even her real name. some speculated she was on the run for murder. one man swore he heard a rumor that she was a world famous arsonist.

kazuki never indulged any of these rumors. she'd never needed to. people parted for her in the streets, magicians or not. people could sense her power. who would dare argue with that? no one with sense. no one ever challenged her.

until him. that skinny, green haired bastard that one of kazuki's magicians had brought in one day, the hyper irishman who apparently had no magic specialty and just did whatever the fuck he wanted. marvin mcloughlin. kazuki disliked him from the start. he was a dickhead and he didn't follow rules, he was arrogant and selfish and loud and he was an embarrassment to their organization. she couldn't count the amount of times naomi gudmundson, the poor agrokinesis girl, had come to her office to apologize for his behaviour without his knowledge. he was, to be frank, a fucking idiot. and kazuki was sick of him.

she planned to give him a notice of leave, informing him that he would no longer be welcome in their organization. it was a few days or so before she was going to do it when she found the man in the stairwell of one of their halls, curled in on himself and sobbing. kazuki had just waited to see if he'd notice her there, because what else was she supposed to do? eventually he'd glanced up, gasping at the sight of her. "i - i - miss kazuki, uh, miss kamata!" he'd spluttered, scrubbing fat tears from his splotchy red face. "i'm - i should - i'm sorry, i'll go, didn't mean to disturb -"

"it's ok," she'd said softly. to his disbelief, and her own, she'd sat down on the step next to him, wincing at the cold, hard floor under her. she shifted, trying to get comfortable. "are you alright, mr mcloughlin?"

he'd shook his head, sniffling and desperately trying to cover up his face while he wiped it off. "i'm fine," he muttered, turning away. "it's nothing, i'm ok. you should probably go. i'm sure you have important hecate work to do or some shit."

kazuki narrowed her eyes. "i'd kindly thank you not to curse like that in my presence, mcloughlin. i don't take well to such disrespect."

marvin had flushed, shoulders shooting to his ears. "sorry," he mumbled. "very sorry. i don't - i don't mean to be rude."

his face crumpled further, and he buried his face in his knees, shaking slightly. kazuki found herself softening. she knew she shouldn't. she knew she should get to her feet and leave before something happened that she would regret. but she didn't. "tell me what's wrong, mr mcloughlin," she murmured. the air around them seemed to thicken, and marvin sat up slightly, shaking his head and blinking rapidly as though it would stem the rapid flow of tears.

"had a fight with my brother and his friends," he mumbled. "it's - it's so stupid. i'm sorry, i'm - i'm really sorry!"

he gave a gasping sob and doubled over, shoulders shaking. kazuki screwed up her face. fuck, but she had no clue what to do. the kid was having a full blown panic attack from the looks of it. should she… without thinking, she stretched out a hand and touched his shoulder, warm magic flowing through her hand. "you're ok," she reassured, watching his turquoise eyes calm. "you're alright. what were you fighting about?"

he shook his head. "dumb shit. my brother's friend h-henrik, he got hurt recently and he hates me, and yet jackie - my brother - he gets mad at me when i get on at him, but he's such a p-prick and his brother used to like me b-before i met henrik but now he's - he's mad at me too, they all are. assholes." he let a hiccuping sob that sounded almost like a laugh. "i sound like such a ch-child, i'm sorry. i'm just really tired. i'm sorry. i'm always such a dick and i don't mean to, i'm just really angry all the time and i don't know why and i'm sorry, i really don't mean to be -"

he gasped, and kazuki gripped his arm tightly. "breathe," she said quietly. "you're going to pass out if you don't calm down."

"please don't kick me out!" he blurted, more tears pooling in his eyes. slit eye pupils, like a cat's. diamond shaped. kazuki had never noticed that. "please, i know you're going to kick me out of hecate and i really don't want to - to go, i - please, i promise i'll stop being an asshole and i won't pick fights with raymond and i'll -" he coughed wildly, covering his mouth. "i'm so sorry. i've b-been acting like a child. i promise you i'll be better."

and it was then that kazuki came to a quiet realization.

"you can stay," she said firmly, and marvin's face lit up. she held up a hand to stop him. "but you do have to promise that you'll be more careful of your words and actions in the future. we've had several complaints about you from other members, and if you don't change your ways i'm afraid i will have to do something about it. do you understand?"

he nodded frantically, a smile cracking his face. "yes, of course - thank you, thank you so much." he wiped his face with his sleeve again, sniffling. "i - i don't want to leave this place. it's basically been my escape from home when i'm not with naomi, and i wouldn't want to lose it. really, i… i don't mean to be a dick. i promise."

kazuki learned something that day. and what she learned was that no matter how hard she tried, she was always going to come back to love. she was always going to feel empathy, she was always going to want to comfort people who were hurting, and there was a part of her that was always going to feel so painfully human. she saw herself in this young, green haired magician. and she unfortunately grew to care about him as time passed. even once she'd discovered he'd been practicing darker magics and made him promise to stop. even once he'd left hecate. she was so human sometimes. it was nice to be reminded of that.

tonight, back in the present, she was thinking about him.

she did that sometimes. it made her wonder how things might have been if she had been different towards marvin. if she had been less cold. kazuki didn't like to be close to people. kazuki didn't want to let herself care about anyone. she thought maybe, if she stayed indifferent, she'd stop. but… she hadn't, had she? she loved marvin. he was like a dumbass child who cursed a lot and interrupted meetings and made a nuisance of himself. and she loved him. he reminded her... he reminded her of her brother who she'd lost so long ago.

she suddenly remembered his book of magic. the one he'd given to her in exchange for her help all those months ago. she still had it in her drawers in her office, right at the back of the one on the bottom. really, she shouldn't have taken it from him in the first place. "you're an idiot, kazuki," she sang to herself under her breath as she pulled the key off the chain on her neck. "you never know what you want."

the drawer was empty.

kazuki stared into it. the drawer was empty. the drawer couldn't be empty.

she stood and marched briskly out her office, heart racing but face void of emotion. she was good at that. "alana!" she snapped, and the purple haired magician who had been walking by stopped dead with wide eyes. kazuki frowned down at her. "have you seen anyone come into my office at all today?"

alana shook her head. "no, miss kamata. only you."

kazuki's heart skipped. "alana. what do you mean, only me?"

the girl looked confused. "you were here earlier, miss kamata. you told me and tony to look alive, i believe? why?"

kazuki just shook her head. she couldn't breathe all of a sudden.

"because i haven't been here all day," she murmured, far too quietly.

it seemed the past was catching up to her.

-

"this is perfect!" rhea cackled. she was spinning in a circle with the book clutched to her chest. "so much magic, so many spells! can you believe that air magic bitch kept it in a drawer in her office? fucking sentimental sap. shouldn't make things so easy to get to."

"ok, and was risking our fucking lives worth that stupid book?" aaron suddenly spat from the couch he was curled up on. jackie flinched. rhea did not. she stopped spinning and glared at him, eyes narrowing with venom.

"it was, actually," she said, her light tone contrasting with her ice cold expression. "jackie's brother is extremely powerful and he has basically every spell he knows in this book. is that correct, jackie?" she turned to him, and jackie took an instinctive step back. "tell your boyfriend that i'm right."

jackie… honestly wasn't sure what rhea wanted with marvin's magic. however, it had been her idea to sneak into hecate and steal it while jackie and aaron kept watch, and the plan has worked, so he supposed no losses had been made. but it seemed aaron has taken this as a personal attack. "you fucking asshole," the blonde hissed, suddenly getting to his feet. "do you have any goddamn care for anyone but yourself?"

jackie laughed nervously, raising his hands. "guys, let's not do this."

they both ignored him. "you're a selfish fucking cunt and all you want is to use us for your gain," aaron seethed, his face red with sudden anger. "we could have gotten in big trouble - breaking into a place like hecate is no fucking joke, rhea, and we're not up for playing your games anymore. tell her that, jackson!"

rhea smiled at aaron cruelly, not an ounce of warmth in her face. "i'm apparently doing a better job of protecting you two than you are," she beamed, voice strained with a thin veil of rage. "you're completely incompetent without someone to guide you. i'm trying to help you and have been from the goddamn start. you would have fucking died without me and i'm honestly starting to wish i had let you."

jackie jumped in before punches could be thrown. "guys!" he shouted, pushing them both away from each other. "you're being fucking ridiculous. rhea, explain why you needed us to get marvin's magic when we already have access to basically all his black magic spells. aaron, you…" he hesitated. "you just… calm down."

aaron spluttered while rhea sat on her couch nearest the window. "ok," she smirked, folding her legs under her. "your brother is an extremely powerful mage, jackie. and while his black magic is strong, the rest of his magic is stronger."

"nothing is stronger than black magic," aaron said through gritted teeth. jackie took his hand and ran his thumb along the back of it soothingly.

rhea cocked her head. "and that's where you're wrong. white magic can be just as powerful, if not more. see, aaron, you're like - you know how in movies there's the dumb guy who always tries to solve his problems by using brute force, and it works for a little while, but then the smart character comes in and uses their brains to solve everything?" she pointed at him with an innocent smile. "you're the dumb guy."

jackie pushed aaron back down before he could do anything he probably wouldn't regret. "let's not poke sticks right now, huh?" he said, shooting the last word at rhea. "explain what you mean, please."

she sighed. "there is no concrete line between black and white magic," she said. "and there is no actual hierarchy of magical strength. it all depends on who's controlling it, who's magic it began as, and how the spell is conducted, among many other things. it's not just "what the spell is." if it were that simple, any magician could shift as well as me, or i could bend air as well as that japanese magician." she paused to take a breath. "point is, this magic stems from a very powerful man, which would make the spells powerful. we could use these."

"and it was worth our lives?" aaron interjected smoothly.

rhea snorted. "yours, maybe."

"rhea," jackie snapped. "aaron is my boyfriend, and if you want my help, you'll have to deal with him too."

"i can fight my own bloody fights," aaron spat, pushing jackie's hand away. he glared at rhea with murder in his eyes before turning back to jackie. "and what, am i just an accessory to you? something to be dealt with? i'm a human person, jackson, and i demand respect."

rhea scoffed. "i don't know that you deserve it."

"guys," jackie protested. "aaron, just shut up -"

"you're supposed to be defending me!" aaron shouted, whirling round on him. "i'm your boyfriend, i've known you for a year now, you just met her like three weeks ago! you - don't - you're gonna trust her opinion over mine?"

jackie shook his head. "it's not like that," he said weakly. "but we need rhea on our side -"

"i don't trust her and i've made that plainly clear!" aaron despaired, grabbing jackie's shoulders without warning. "please, listen to me -"

"aaron - aaron, let go -"

"you don't believe me! i'm not just being paranoid!"

"aaron -"

"you never listen to me, you fucking asshole, i'm trying to warn you -"

"aaron, shu̸t ̸uṕ͜!"

the sudden wave of panicked magic nearly knocked him out. he staggered back, clutching his head, before he noticed what he'd done. aaron was swaying on the spot, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. jackie's heart dropped. no, no, not again, not again -

"aaron - shit, i didn't - didn't mean it," he choked out, wrapping his arms around himself. "shit -"

"oh, well done," came rhea's voice. he turned to her, vision blurred with tears, to see she'd stood up again and was now beside him, a small smile on her face. "you know, jackson, i didn't think you were the type to hypno your own boyfriend. that takes guts."

"accident," jackie sobbed. "it was an accident -"

"but you wanted to do it," she said quietly. she took his hand, and her face softened. "you wanted to hypnotize him to make him shut up. i don't blame you. you know i'm right and you feel bad because your boyfriend doesn't believe that i'm to be trusted. it must hurt. but i understand."

she pulled him into a gentle hug, facing him away from aaron so he couldn't see his face. jackie stared numbly out the living room window as rhea pat his back, speaking softly. "this is a very hard situation for you. i get it. but… you're gonna have to admit it. aaron isn't good for you. he's just holding you back."

"he's my boyfriend," jackie mumbled into her shoulder. "and he's my best friend. i love him. he's never once held me back from anything and i love him."

rhea pulled away. she studied jackie's face for a moment, expression blank. then she shrugged. "ok. well, i made you a profile on my netflix. i set your picture as the blue wally guy from black mirror because i thought it was funny. watch whatever you want, i don't judge. i'm going to my room. see you tomorrow, jackson."

she skipped out the room, jackie staring after her.

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 148

Chapter Summary - Tom realises something is slightly off with Danielle but it seems even she is not focusing on it.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

Copyright for the photo is the owners, not mine. All image rights belong to their owners

So the spoons story Tom revealed before on a chat show.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @jessibelle-nerdy-mum​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @damalseer​ @hiddlesbitch1​ @winterisakiller​ @fairlightswiftly​ @salempoe​ @wolfsmom1​ @black-ninja-blade

Tom knew within a few minutes of Danielle's company on his return that his suspicions were correct. Something was bothering her and she did not seem set to share it. It was peculiar, it was as though whatever it was, she was actively seeking to avoid and work around it herself. He watched as she tried to force herself to speak to him as she usually did but there was also a peculiar sense to her too. He tried to make her feel like she could speak to him but she continued to say nothing. She smiled and spoke as close to normal as she could muster, but there was a strain in it for her.

She told him of everything she had to do for the documentation, she showed him who was involved, several of the names were world-leading experts apparently. She mentioned that if she had thought Waters and Safeguard were something to note, this was several times more impressive. When he asked her if there was a possibility of her getting her name in with bigger companies, perhaps set the groundwork for when she would be done with her contract with Safeguard, she nodded and said that if it went well, she could get a job with anyone she wanted and name her price.

Then she explained her triathlon training. To say it was going to be intense was an understatement. Tom stared open-mouthed at the sheer amount of hours a week she was now going to dedicate to training after months of her barely even getting a jog some weeks. She told him of the races she would be doing as a build-up to the main event and that she had already booked her room for the weekend in the small and apparently, going by the pictures she showed him on her phone, beautiful Welsh seaside town. She informed him it was a double room and booked for two and that she hoped he could make it but she understood if he would have work commitments. Whatever it was that was bothering her, he was relieved to see that it did not concern her in a way that meant she foresaw a situation of them not being together in September.

What he noticed more than anything was that Danielle refused to sit still and simply relax. Even when he was not around her and walked into a room she was in, she had the radio on. That was noteworthy in itself, usually, she just chose some album or shuffle to listen to but by actively seeking the radio, she was avoiding her own music. He noted that the radio channels of choice were Irish, or what he assumed to be Irish at least as it was in a language he did not know and the music all seemed to be traditional Irish music, which he knew from his lock-in in Camden where he was forced to learn the spoons to be allowed stay drinking with his friends, or more often, Irish bands and singers. He listened and attempted to at least figure out the gist what was being said, but it was impossible, Irish was not even derived from Latin like a large number of European languages, so nothing made an ounce of sense.

He walked into the kitchen three days after his return with Luke to discuss more work to see Danielle's phone on the worktop and hearing the peculiar language before spotting Danielle filling the bird feeders in the garden.

'What is that?’ Luke asked pointing to Danielle's phone.

'Did you know that when Danielle was small, she never spoke English in her home, that she only started learning it when she was five-years-old in school?’ Tom stated.

'But Ireland speaks English? That's its language.’

'Yes and no. The first language of most Irish people is English but in small pockets of Ireland, such as Connemara, Elle's area, Irish is the first and often the only language spoken.’ Tom beamed.

'So she knows what's being said?’ Luke pointed to the phone and Tom nodded. 'Do you know any of it?’

'Not really, I figured out a word that more than likely means hospital and I know that the HSE was the Irish equivalent of the NHS, so them being so close together was something I was able to work out. Some of the reports are in English, though some of the politicians seem to know a lot of Irish too so I don't always know what's going on. Apparently, they have a huge referendum this month.’ Tom rambled.

Luke just looked at him blankly with no idea as to how to respond to such a statement. Before he could retort in any manner, the dogs and Danielle came back inside. 'Hey.’ She smiled as she walked over and turned off the radio app on her phone. 'How are you gentlemen today? Tea?’

‘I have it there.’ Tom smiled back at her. 'How was the run?’

'Fine, our friend was out to annoy us again.’ She informed him, referencing the photographer that seemed to all but live in Belsize to irritate the celebrities who called the area home. ‘Bobby needs a walk later, I brought Mac with me for the run, could you do it?’

'Sure.’ Tom was slightly startled by her request. It often happened that if one of them was going for a run, they would take Mac with them and the other would walk Bobby later as the pup was not old enough yet to jog with them, but the way she asked him confused him slightly. 'Are you busy, we could do it together?’

'I am going to the office in a minute, I want to sort something.’ She explained. 'I want to get some files, I plan on a solid four hours tomorrow after the pool.’

'Should you be going this intensely already?’

'Tom, I am late getting started and I have not even gotten my bike yet. I will have to see about fitting in some bike time then too and then all three together. I guess that's a good thing about the summer on the coast, I can put all three together there.’

‘What’s this then?’ Luke asked curiously, noting Tom's downtrodden demeanour and Danielle's seemingly mad training schedule.

'I am doing an Ironman in September, so I have to start my training now to be ready.’ She explained.

'Ironman?’

'A swim, then bike, then running competition.’ Danielle explained.

'Sounds exhausting. Rather you than me.’ He retorted. 'Tom told me about your other work also, congratulations, you will be incredibly busy.’

'Yes, it'll be balls to the wall for a while but it's a good way to be. I like being busy when possible.’

'Just as long as you look after yourself, I read injuries are commonplace in training from overdoing it.’ Tom warned.

'I know, Love. Plenty of rest is a big part, thankfully it exhausts you so as soon as I hit the pillows at night, I will more than likely conk.’ She smiled and grabbed her phone. 'I better head to the office, I'll leave the car here and talk to you later, okay?’ She leant up and kissed Tom's cheek. 'There is dinner in the fridge, easy to heat up and sort.’

'Won't you be home for it?’ He asked. 'I can hold off?’

'Don't worry yourself. I'll heat mine when I get back.’ She turned to Luke. 'Thanks for everything at the premiere, I forgot to say. It helped.’

'Of course, that's what I'm here for.’

'I am fairly sure your mother didn't bring you into the world to be Tom's babysitter and to console his girlfriend at an event but okay.’ She joked. 'But, in all seriousness, thank you. I hope I didn't cause you any trouble.’

'No, you didn't. Nothing of the sort, as usual with reference to you, you were nothing short of a dream to deal with. Bar the angry few that still have not realised Tom is a living breathing human being with his own life, once again, you have unanimous praise.’

‘Good, I will endeavour to keep it that way.’ She walked over to Tom. 'Almost forgot.’ She leant up and gave him a kiss. 'Don't go mad in my absence.’

‘Don’t worry, I'll clean it if we do.’

'Oh, I know you will, that's not the reason for my statement.’ Danielle laughed.

'Then what is?’ He questioned curiously.

'I just don't want to miss the fun.’ She smiled as she left the room.

Luke chuckled at her statement before looking at Tom. 'Is everything okay?’

'I don't know. I think something is going on with Danielle.’

'She seems her usual witty self to me but I don't live with her, so I can't say for sure. When did you seem to notice?’

'The premiere.’

'In what way?’

'She's stacking her schedule with work again, making sure she has so much to do all the time and she seems just...off. I can't explain it. She seems like something is bothering her and she is trying to ignore it.’

‘Does she often listen to Irish radio?’

'Apparently, she's been doing it all along and I never knew.’

'Parents birthdays or death anniversaries?’

‘Her mum's was back in January, her father's is next month and birthdays are a little off yet.’ He scanned his mind for the dates he knew meant something more to Danielle.

'I don't know what to say, maybe she is homesick or perhaps she is town weary. A few days in Suffolk will do her good, as will the summer by the sea.’

‘Am I thinking too much into it?’ Tom asked.

'Honestly, I can't stay, but I will say that the best thing to do is air your worries. You two work well together, don't hold that in but also respect that Danielle is not some dependent woman, she is very much her own, driven person. Career advancement and personal goals for her have to be done at a time that suits her, not anyone else. The career thing, she cannot help, that is being steamrolled from elsewhere and regarding her sports thing, it is in the statement you released last year, in papers, online, that she is accomplished at it so this is not completely out of place and at thirty-one, she has to think of her age, her health and the very real possibility that if you two continue as you do, there is going to be a time soon that she will have to forego such goals if you decide to get married and have children. If this is something wants and it will all be done and dusted come September, personally I see it as unreasonable to be irked by it. You both have things you like.’

'She is training several times a week. She went from barely time for a jog to several times a week.’ Tom argued. 'Ten hours rising to fifteen closer the time, it's madness.’

'I agree it's probably a form of madness, as well as a level of dedication that most would never have but in all fairness, she is ambitious in her personal goals, that is something that you have said many times appeals to you about her.’ Tom said nothing back. 'You're concerned that there is no place for you in this, aren't you?’

'She seems to be making little time for us.’

'Have you asked to join her for some of this training, you run, she'll be running, that's something. You could get a bike or swim also.’

'You have no idea what an Ironman is, do you?’

'No why?’

'Google it, Google Ironman distances.’ Luke did as Tom suggested and his eyes widened as his mind computed the words in front of him. 'Bar asking if she has received a sharp blow to the head recently to willingly choose to do this, I don't know what to say.’

Tom did not know how to respond either.

[mymelodyheart]

Starting Over Chapter 2 ~Sassenach~

"Weel, weel if it isn't my favourite sportsman, James Fraser."

Christ! What now? 

He groaned inwardly and turned to find a petite blonde walking towards him. Jamie had just escaped a group of old family acquaintances, evaded some uncomfortable questions about his disappearance, and the last thing he needed now was some more awkward conversation with a person he vaguely recognised. Prior to that, he'd briefly spoken to his parents, Brian and Ellen and his brothers, William and Robert. Like Jenny, they hadn't mentioned anything about his long absence. Instead, they'd welcomed him with open arms as if he'd never ignored their calls during the past few weeks. Grateful for the breathing space and respite, he knew eventually he would have to talk.

The blonde girl waited for him to say something as she sipped her white wine. With so many things occupying his thoughts, he could only summon an absentminded nod in her direction.

She flipped her long hair back with a flick of a hand and laughed coquettishly. "Ye don't remember me, do ye?"

"Eh ...ye look sorta familiar," he replied without matching her smile, his gaze briefly drifting somewhere else. "Ye're at my nephew's party, so I guess ye're a friend of Jenny."

Her cool floundered for a split second, but she quickly recovered. "Our parents are friends, and we went to the same school together. Laoghaire ...Laoghaire MacKenzie. Our families sometimes attend the same parties. I'm here with my nephew."

"Ah, right," he said flatly. "That explains why."

There was an uncomfortable silence, but he made no effort to ease the strain. He was thinking about the girl with the crazy, big hair.  And the mindblowing kiss.

Undeterred, Laoghaire stayed put. She looked like she was waiting for him to make some sort of move. Shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans, he dragged in an impatient breath. Here at Broch Mordha, the village was somewhat removed from the rest of the world. What happened outside its bubble only mattered when it indirectly affected its inhabitants. Looking at her expression, his image as a ladies' man had penetrated that bubble. It's true, he'd had a few casual affairs in the past, but nothing long term. He'd appreciated them for what it was, treated whoever he was with well and was always forthright about not wanting anything serious. His focus had always been on rugby and everything that entailed the sport. 

Unfortunately, the media had made him out to be an unrepentant philanderer, thanks to the reputation of his uncle Dougal MacKenzie, a retired rugby union great and a former mentor when he'd first started out.  Like Uncle, like nephew,  so they'd whispered behind his back. Dougal had been a notorious womaniser back in his days, and his antics were often featured in the sports column.  How many wives had he had?  Jamie had lost count. So much for promoting a public persona that had nothing to do with his passion for rugby!  Since when did hard work, glory and distinction in sports become synonymous with the shallow world of celebrities?  In Jamie's case, ever since the camera had panned a close-up of his face during a televised game and the social media had erupted into a frenzy.   Suddenly, Jamie's looks and his relation to his uncle had become as important as his rugby skills when it came to attracting the lucrative endorsements and sponsorship deals that made him wealthy. But at what cost? A reputation that refused to shift. Maybe there was a certain amount of truth to what was being said about him. After all, his uncle's womanising ways had soured the idea of him committing to a relationship.

"So, ye're back," the blonde girl continued, seemingly unfazed by his lack of interest. "Maybe we can meet up for coffee or maybe..." Face turning red, she squared her shoulders. "...ye'll probably need help refamiliarising yersel' with the village and surrounding area."

"Why? Has Broch Mordha changed much?" He knew he was behaving like a complete prick. Over a year ago, his charm would have turned on involuntary around people, especially with pretty girls like the one in front of him.  Good old Jamie, the golden boy of British sports, always up for a picture or two or lay with some female celebrity or fan.  Everyone had wanted a piece of him until he'd announced his retirement. Then his phone had stopped ringing. But his agent had wanted to milk whatever was left of his fame by suggesting to go on the popular British television dance contest for celebrities,  Strictly Come Dancing .  What the fuck did that have to do with rugby?  Nowadays the only newsworthy thing about his name was his love life or some rehashed stories of his past. But here's a girl showing genuine interest so why couldn't he muster an ounce of enthusiasm? "Look, I'm so sorry. I haven't seen my family for a long while and ..."

"Ach, nae bother. Think nothing more about it," she interrupted with a wave of her hand. "But if ye change yer mind, call me." She rummaged through her handbag and extracted a card, handing it to him. "I've a boutique shop in the square. Sew in Style. I usually take a break between one and two in the afternoon."

Jamie forced a smile, shoving the card in his pocket without looking at it. "Aye, if I ever need a perfect wee black dress, I'll let ye know."

She laughed out loud as if he just uttered the joke of the decade instead of a sarcastic comment. "And, by the way, I'm home tonight so, if ye fancy a glass of wine or two after yer nephew's party...my private number is at the back of the card."

His forced laughter was toneless. "A wine."

"Jamie! A moment please." A voice behind him called out.  Joe?    Ach, thank fuck!   

Jamie knew instantly his African-American friend was swooping in to save him from Laoghaire, and he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. They weren't close, but Joe was more than a professional acquaintance and team doctor. In and outside his training, it was their talks that had kept him grounded throughout his career. And it was he who had kept in touch with his family during his therapy. When the title Rookie of the Year had threatened to inflate his head, Joe had reminded him not to get too cocksure as rugby career tended to be very short. Quickly making an apologetic shrug at Laoghaire, Jamie turned to face Joe, this time a sincere smile, if not relieved, plastered on his face. "How are ye, mate? Good to see ye."

Realising she was being dismissed, Laoghaire's expression went flat; nevertheless, she smiled, and with a small nod, and a muttered, "see ye around," she turned and left. Part of him felt awful for being rude, but the other half felt good to not play the charming ladies' man as portrayed by the newspaper.

Joe let out a whistle. "Whoa! Who are you and what did you do to James Fraser?"

"He's still here somewhere." Jamie clapped him on the back as they made their way to the table where his brothers and brother-in-law were sat. The guests were already starting to leave, and his parents have retired to the house.

"Jenny said you might come. So I stopped by," Joe said, grabbing his drink from the table. 

Ian, Jenny's husband, stood up and offered Jamie a beer, but he shook his head and zeroed in on the whisky instead. "I sent Joe to get ye. Ye looked like ye were suffering from a bout of gout talking to Laoghaire," he chuckled.

Jamie smiled pensively, pouring himself a healthy measure in the tumbler, and taking a seat between Rabbie and Willie. Despite his moodiness, he was glad to be around his brothers. Willie, the oldest of the Fraser siblings at age thirty-four, had his own construction company,  W.Fraser  while the youngest, Robert, better known as Rabbie, age twenty-three was studying Biochemistry at the University of Edinburgh. But Rabbie's passion was more into the woodwork, and in his spare time, he helped Willie create masterpieces out of wood or restored antiques. And so that left the Fraser Distillery to Jamie. Although unspoken, Jamie knew he was expected to take over the family business now that his rugby career was over. "Just a lot to take in at the moment. I didn't realise there would be plenty of guests."

The men nodded sympathetically as they supped their drinks.

"Here, ye wanted this," Rabbie said, breaking the silence and sliding a business card on the table "Got it from Jenny. Ye planning a party or something? Mind, it's a children's party company."

Sassenach!  Jamie grabbed the colourful card, read it and flipped it twice between his fingers. Giggle Beans Children's Party Planner. "Geillis Duncan ...the name doesnae sound English to me," he said thoughtfully.

Joe took a swig of his beer and frowned. "Geillis Duncan? I know her. She's a good mate of mine. The party planning is a new business she just started."

"Aye? Brown-haired lass?"

"No. Geillis is ginger. Like you."

"Weel, I heard Jenny calling the entertainer Geillis. Maybe she dyed her hair?" Ian suggested. "I never saw her face. I thought it was bonkers she had that dog mask on the whole time in this heat. I guess she didnae want to disappoint the bairns."

"I can call her if you wish. Like what I said, she's a close friend," Joe offered, taking out his phone. "Is it for a party?"

"Ahh, no. I ..." Jamie didn't know what to say, so he took out his phone instead. "No. I'll call." Reading from the card, he tapped the number on his phone screen and glared at everyone in warning to shush. No answer. Just an answering machine. After a while, he placed his phone back on the table. "What kind of business that's just starting out takes a week off?"

"Ah! It's to do with the wedding," Joe explained. "Our friend is getting married this weekend. I'm the man of honour and Geillis is the bride's maid."

Everyone laughed, and Rabbie's eyebrow shot up. "Man of honour. Never heard of that before."

Jamie ignored his brother. "Mmm, doesn't she have the staff to answer phone calls? It would make perfect business sense if she wanted to succeed."

"Not yet, but she has a few close friends helping her out for now," Joe shrugged. "I have no idea which friends though. Want me to call Geillis' on her private number?"

Jamie shook his head. "No, it can wait."

"If it's not about children's party, what is it ye calling for?" Ian asked.

"Wait a minute," Willie interrupted as if something just dawned on him. "Has this something to do with wee Jamie telling me that ye snogged the dog? His words. Not mine."

"Fuck, he said that?" Jamie choked.

"Aye, my wee lad told me something along those lines," Ian piped in, suddenly perking up. "I thought he's making stories up."

"Ye snogged the children's entertainer? The one in Paw Patrol costume?" Rabbie asked. "How'd ye manage that?"

"Alright, Jamie. I'm all dog's ears. What happened?" Joe dead-panned.

Everyone at the table burst out laughing.

"Fuck off!" Jamie split a frustrated look between his friend, brothers and his brother-in-law over the rim of his whisky. His younger brother, Robert, looked like he had tons of follow-up questions which Jamie could really do without. 

"He definitely snogged the dog," Rabbie confirmed with a smirk and a wink.

"Jesus, Jamie. Ye come out from yer cave for the first time in a long time, and ye snogged wee Jamie's party entertainer? Ye definitely need yer head looking at," Willie quipped, shifting on his seat. "What the hell happened?"

Although Jamie promised his mother to cut down on his alcohol consumption, suddenly, he wanted to straddle his hangover with a fresher one in an attempt to forget the kiss with the fiery English lass and to veer the conversation to something else. Feeling cornered and left with no choice, he complied and told them the whole story.

When Jamie was done, everyone shook their head like he'd just been crowned idiot of the year. "Ye actually bribed her with 30 quid?" Rabbie asked, slapping his forehead in disbelief. "Man, she must be a student like me, forever hard-up for dough. She must think ye're a self-entitled prick for that. Does she even know who ye are?" 

"Aye, she does. She was actually nice. She's the first person since I retired from sports to mention the subject of rugby."

Actually, Jamie had liked her even before she had taken off the mask. She'd had this mixture of vulnerability and tenacity that had grabbed his attention the moment she'd started speaking. He could have talked to her all day and not been bored. And then she'd taken off the mask, and he'd known there, and then he was flummoxed.

He remembered her big amber eyes flecked with grey flashing in anger and thought of how her lips had felt moving with his. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.

"So, tell me, how did she grab the hundred-pound note? With her furry paws?" 

Willie threw a beer bottle cap at the younger Fraser. "Leave it to Rabbie to ask the mechanics of every minute detail. Jamie had a snogging session with a dog, so let's just appreciate it for what it is."

Jamie took no notice of the jest. "It wasn't even a proper snog. It was more like  take-that, ye-prick  kinda snog."

"Oh, man. This is bad. Look at ye. Ye really have it bad, Jamie lad. Ye're paying for yer past mistakes. Aye, that's it! That's karma. That's what happens when ye leave a trail of broken hearts in yer wake. A taste of yer own medicine." Willie shook his head at his brother in mock sympathy.

"What do ye plan to do then if ye manage to get hold of her? Ask her out? Do ye even want to have a girlfriend? " Ian asked, seriously this time.

So what's the plan?  If for no other reason, he wanted to track the English lass down just to correct her misconception of him. And if he was downright honest with himself, he craved to kiss her again—a lot. "I have nae idea. Truly, nae idea. But one thing for sure, she and I aren't done," he muttered before downing the rest of his whisky.

..........

I can't do this. I have to get out of here.

The four walls of the room felt like they're closing in on her. Claire tried to regulate her breathing as panic slashed mercilessly at her guts. The bodice of her dress dug into her ribs, and the choker pearl necklace felt like a noose binding her. She started to hyperventilate, and she reached up and ripped off the pearl-encrusted lace veil. Bending at the waist, she placed her hands on her knees and gulped in air.

In fifteen minutes, she was getting married to Frank. She tried to picture him in his tuxedo, his chocolate brown hair neatly brushed back, flashing his perfect smile at their waiting guests, most of them his associates and friends. Earlier while she was getting dressed, a box of white orchids from her fiance arrived with a handwritten note. It read:  I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you.  Beautiful. So why did those mere words sent a shiver down her spine? Everything was perfect. Frank was perfect. So what was wrong?

She thought of the people in her life. There were not many of them. Sure, there were plenty of acquaintances and work colleagues at the hospital, and she was well-liked. But those she held dear and was closest to, she could count on the fingers of one hand. Orphaned at the age of five, she was raised by her only living relative, her father's brother, Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, also known as uncle Lamb. Having spent her childhood travelling the world with her guardian while working on archaeological sites, their nomadic lifestyle didn't allow much room for close friendships and ties. At least until she started her medical studies when her uncle finally settled down to teach history at the University of Edinburgh. Although a loner, she had bonded with Geillis Duncan and Joe Abernathy one night while watching a televised rugby game at the local pub. Scotland had just won. After hugging as strangers in celebration and debating about  the man of the match  over pints of Guinness, they became steadfast friends ever since.

And then Frank came along. He was a specialist surgeon at the time when they first met. He was her boss and her mentor when she started her internship. Their shared love for the intricacies of medical and surgical art of healing brought them closer together, first as friends and eventually as lovers. He was a patient teacher, and she was an eager student, lapping up his knowledge and experience. But that's where their common interest ended. Outside work, they had different interests and sets of friends. Claire loved sports, hanging out in a pub, reading books and night-ins watching movies. She was laidback whereas Frank loved attending formal charity events and socialising with the upper crust professionals of Edinburgh. More often than not, their differences made her feel she had to make a choice between him and her friends.

Claire closed her eyes and tried to calm her rioting nerves. Over the past year, almost every instant she attempted to meet up with Joe and Geillis, Frank gave her a difficult time. Her fiance pointed out how limited time they spent together with their hectic work schedules and her little get-togethers with her friends were causing a division in their relationship. Although Claire considered herself independent, gutsy and opinionated, her resolve turned into mush whenever Frank turned on his charm and wholehearted devotion in getting his point across. And so she'd started making excuses. She hated lying to her friends, but Frank soothed her guilt by being more attentive and generous with his gifts.

He doesn't like your friends. He wants to change you. 

The voice in her head got louder, and her breathing became more erratic.

Run now before it's too late.

Lightheadedness threatened, and she staggered to her feet, swaying a little. She needed air so badly. Maybe the wedding pressure was finally getting to her. With her demanding job and long hours at work, she was bone-tired from fretting about every final detail of their wedding. Frank was a perfectionist, and he disliked disorganisation and lack of care. Every aspect of their nuptials needed to be perfect. And with almost four hundred guests, including the local press and his high-society associates, it was an event too important to muck up. It was her job to make sure everything was flawless.

What matters more, Beauchamp? Pleasing a bunch of hoity-toity or your friends? Is this really the world you want to live in?

She knew Frank didn't approve of her friends.  "They're a bit rough around the edges, darling. I hope they will not embarrass me at the wedding,"  he had said casually. But Claire had stood her ground and defended them. Besides uncle Lamb, Joe and Geillis were like family to her. They were her people.

The sound of violin music and the drone of voices drifting into the room alerted her. She knew Geillis, Joe and uncle Lamb were waiting outside, and soon the door would open. They left earlier when she told them she needed a moment alone. Any time now, they would come and fetch her. Feeling sick, she lurched toward the stained glass window and jiggled the knob. It budged a few inches, allowing hot air to flow through.  Breathe!  Why was she having second thoughts? Together they would be a power couple saving lives, attending charity events and helping change the world. So, what was the matter? 

Nothing is the matter. I love Frank. He's great, and he makes me a better person.

Ya-dah, ya-dah. What do you know of love, Beauchamp? You kissed the Fraser lad. Maybe the hot Scot is not for you, but if you really love Frank, the kiss wouldn't have happened.

The hot weather and lack of sleep muddled my brains.

Yeah, right. Get a grip, Beauchamp.

What now?

Get the hell out of there and run!

Sunlight caught the sparkle of her diamond engagement ring, making her wince. Quickly, she took it off and placed it on the table. No time for weighing the consequences, the rights and wrongs, the cost. No time to draw up statistical or pie charts and mull over percentages.

Trust your gut, Beauchamp. It has never failed you on the operating table.

But I can't leave him waiting at the altar.

Listen, you fool. Once you walk down that aisle, it's over. So straighten those panties and worry about the consequences later.

Her head was spinning in a frenetic circle, making her dizzy. Claire looked at the closed door and swallowed hard. What she was about to do would change the course of her life and maybe, the career she had worked hard for. But there was no time.

Go, go, go, Beauchamp!

Bugger it!  Heart pounding, Claire yanked the window with all her might, and to her astonishment, it opened like a shot nearly knocking her backwards. She didn't have time to analyse if it was her physical strength or the adrenaline increasing the blood flow into her muscles that made the window budge. Ignoring the judging eyes of the Blessed Virgin Mary statue, she squeezed her body through the opening and wriggled her way to freedom.

..........

"Thank you, Jamie. Sorry again to call you on such short notice. I owe you big time, mate," Joe said, saluting him as he opened the passenger door.

"Nae worries, Joe. Happy to help. Now, go before you miss the wedding," Jamie replied. 

Joe smiled one last time and got out.

Jamie waited and watched his friend run and disappeared through the door of the church before easing his car from the curb. The church bell rang, letting him know the ceremony was about to commence. There were a few reporters with cameramen lingering outside and thought, whoever Joe's friend was marrying must be well-known and newsworthy.

Joe had called Jamie earlier after his car broke down. Apparently, the bride's uncle had forgotten to bring something important, and Geillis had sent him to retrieve it, by hook or by crook. Luckily for Joe, he caught him as he was about to leave for Lallybroch for the weekend. 

Jamie was just turning right at the junction when a cloud of white material hanging out of a window on the far side of the church caught his attention.  What the fuck?   Not stopping to think, he slammed his foot on the brake and got out of the car, leaving it stranded in the middle of the road. He started to jog across the grassy area and over the bed of flowers, keeping his eye on the wriggling figure coming out of the window.  Christ, is that the bride?

Then his heart stopped and faltered. The person in the white dress was falling. His perception of time became distorted, slowing everything down until there was nothing, only the figure in white that was about to hit the ground.  No! No! Please, God!  Pushing himself, he bolted like a sprinter at the start gun, covering the uneven ground with a precise speed of a disciplined athlete, knowing full well his thighs had enough power to make it in seconds, each of his strides at least worth two of an untrained person. Barely breaking a sweat, he made it in the nick of time and caught the body in his arms.

His heart knocking uncontrollably against his ribs, he let out a massive sigh of relief and looked down at the bride. Her porcelain skin was flushed, and her fancy hairdo lay lopsided to the side with pins sticking out, making the dark curls spring wildly around her face. His gaze briefly landed on her parted lips before settling on a pair of snapping amber eyes. He fought past his lack of speech and wondered if the weeks he'd spent in a drunken stupor was causing him to hallucinate. "Sassenach!?!"

[dxlansdarling]

not that easily | e.d

Summary: after a night stand in the middle of a break, things aren’t going as you have wanted. Remembering your words, with Grayson on your side; you will do the right thing.

Warnings: a little angst, but fluff. Some FRIENDS reference and spoiler?

Word count: 2932

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“I don’t want to be without you” he said “Not now, nor never”

You looked at the picture in your hands, and with a long sigh, you closed your eyes. Sitting on the steps of the house’s gallery, you regretted leaving your coat inside your house. November nights started to get colder and colder, and being outside at 3am, freezing to dead and a tear-stained face; you were going to get sick. But you couldn’t care less, not when your heart beat slowly and painfully against your chest.

“You think you would get rid of me that easily?”

It’s been months since the last time you saw him; two months if you wanted to be precisely. And still, you couldn’t forget that day. Both of you sitting on his bed, a bad luck on his shoulders and someone carrying a one-night-stand on her belly. No, he said he didn’t cheat on you. No, he wouldn’t do that to you.  But it felt like he did; the pregnancy test on his hands was enough to feel the heartbreak. She was four-months pregnant.

“And you think I would let you go that easily?” I mumbled, his lips caressing mine.

The both of you dated for long three years, and after a few stupid fights; you were on a break four months before that night. Yes, you felt like Rachel on Friends as he tried to explain he was drunk and didn’t know what he was doing. You knew about what happened as soon as that break ended, you knew about the one night stand, but you never thought it would end on a fucking baby. So, not only you were heartbroken at first; you had to do the right thing and leave.

She was from a really religious family that, as soon as they learned about what happened; the engagement came two weeks after you left. You could have stayed and fight for him? Yes, but you couldn’t do that to him, nor the baby. The little human needed a family, and if he fucked up, he needed to make up and do the right thing. You told yourself every night after leaving his house.

Trying to warm up you hugged yourself, shivers down your spine, and your eyes travelling to the magazine on your lap; you couldn’t help but bit the inside of your cheek on anger. Or jealously. Or regret. You didn’t know what you were feeling anymore, but it wasn’t the only thing you didn’t understand.

How funny it was when, out of nowhere, this girl appeared on his Instagram and all of his social media. Not only she was showing her growing belly -which was super small for someone who was six months pregnant- but she was also promoting their wedding. In less than forty-eight hours, she was going to be Mrs.Dolan. You didn’t want to think the worst, but something wasn’t right; and you weren’t the only one who thought that.

Grayson never lost contact with you. Even after weeks, he would still pick you up from your parent’s house and would go to an ice cream parlor to cheer you up. And mostly, on updating you on how things where and how he hated this new girl his brother had to date. Even if you agreed on everything he said, you still kept quiet and thought that you were doing the right thing. But, where you?

Speaking of him, you couldn’t help but smile down at your phone when it rang and a message appeared on your screen.

               Gray-Gray: plz tell me you’re awake.

 Your hands felt frozen as you typed back.

                 You: unluckily, yes.

                 Gray-Gray: we need to talk.

               Gray-Gray: like asap.

 Confused, and a little worried, you read his texts again. Was he on trouble?

                 You: r u okay?

               Gray-Gray: ill pick u up tomorrow afternoon.

               Gray-Gray: believe me, ill be okay as soon as we meet.

  -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

You rubbed your eyes as you stood outside of your house, this time smart enough to grab a big sweatshirt that belonged to him. It was the only thing that you wanted to keep from him and keep on using it. It didn’t help you look any better, if you were honest. You couldn’t sleep at all the night before, not only because the wedding date was coming closer and your heart was crashing a little bit more every minute; but because Grayson didn’t say anything more after those texts asking you to meet him. So you stayed up, with pain and curiosity.

When his car parked in front of you, as soon as you jumped in, you smacked the back of his head.

“Hey!” he groaned, fixing the beanie he had over his hair, “What was that for?”

“For worrying me and keeping me up confused” you replied, putting on the seatbelt when he sped up again, “So, what’s up?”

“It’s not Ethan’s child.”

You choked on your own saliva, feeling how your heart stopped the moment he spoke.

“What?” you blurted out, “What do you mean it’s not Ethan’s child? Of course it is!”

“It’s not, Y/N, listen,” he grabbed a few papers that were on the back seats and handed them to you, “I had my suspicious the moment everything happened, but couldn’t talk about it because it was all a disaster at the moment. No one needed me making more drama. Or asking for a few tests.”

“You didn´t’-” you started, but Grayson shrugged.

“I may have tricked her into going to a doctor –who’s a family’s friend- that convinced her to make a few tests to see if the baby was healthy,” he said, “She’s not six months pregnant; she’s three.”

Looking at the papers in your hand, you read the medical form and almost stopped breathing when you recognized what you had in your hands. Part of you felt relief, there was a little bit of hope, but the other part of you that still needed to do the right thing came up again. You looked over at Grayson again, the papers in your hands being not enough.

“Grayson, this is- it is not enough” you said, “this could be fake, anyone can write informs these days. What makes you believe that they would trust a piece of paper?”

Grayson laughed bitterly, and turning the car into a parking lot, he grabbed something from his jeans and you raised your eyebrows at the floral phone case.

“New case?” you joked.

“Not my phone,” He shot back and winked.

Your mouth opened widely.

“Are you fucking crazy, Grayson?! It’s her phone! It’s her privacy!” you almost yelled, “She will be looking for it, smart ass, and if she has the find my phone app-”

“Y/N, I swear to God, I will slap you if you try and take her side on this one” he spoke up, turning on his seat and looking at you, “I’m sure this bitc-woman is trying to get my brother into a marriage that it’s not fair and that he doesn’t want. Yes, you’re right, the papers aren’t enough, but this phone has the information we need to end this shit.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw her texting someone the other day, and not only I know her passcode after seeing her type it so many times,” he laughed, typing the passcode and unlocking the phone, “but I also learned that she has a contact blocked, and by the looks of it, it’s someone she wants to hide.”

He pressed on the blocked number, unblocking it, and when their conversation opened; you took the phone from Grayson’s hand and started reading the last discussion they had. It was the supposed baby daddy, and you felt like you could breathe again. You felt your heart bursting with hope, and as you looked at Grayson, you smiled.

“Does this mean-?” you stuttered. He nodded, a small smile on his cheeks.

“We can end this bullshit,” he confirmed, hands still on the wheel, “Also, this doctor that ran the tests, has done a paternal test. I knew my brother wasn’t stupid enough to not wrap it before he taps it.”

You blushed, “Well…”

“Spare me the fucking details!”

  -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 You sat on your room that night too, but it was different from the other nights. That night, you had hope. A lot of it. The part of you that wanted to do the right thing went flying out the window the moment you read the conversation this girl, Lola, had with her true baby daddy, Stephen. You had sent the conversation to your mail, not only via screen-shots, but the written one too. You wanted to have all the proofs you needed to get your man out of there.

You were short of time, the wedding being the next day and what stopped you from running into the twins’ house was that you needed one more proof. The test that Grayson talked about in the car wasn’t ready yet, and after he asked; everything got more complicated when the doctor answered that it was going to be ready the next morning. The same morning that bitch was going to say ‘I do’ to Ethan.

Thinking about him, you were sure that night was his bachelor party. Grayson told you after he left you on your house again, and for a few seconds, the pain came back. You never spoke nor asked about Ethan when you were with Grayson, the idea of him marrying someone else that wasn’t you made your stomach turn and almost throw up. You couldn’t bare that image.

After a nice dinner with your parents, you went to your bathroom so you could take a quick shower before going to bed. But as you were grabbing your clothes, your phone started ringing. Thinking it could be Grayson, you furrowed your eyebrows as you read the unknown number on the screen. You quickly put it on your ear as soon as you answered.

“Hello?”

“Y/N…”

You fell back on your bed, your knees wobbling and heart beating so fast you had to put a hand over it. Even after months without talking, you remembered perfectly his voice.

“Ethan…” you mumbled, more to yourself as you couldn’t still believe it.

“Oh baby, how I’ve missed your voice,” he slurred and you couldn’t help the feeling that bubbled on your chest. You missed his voice too, “and all of you. I miss you so much, do you miss me too?”

Like you have no idea, you thought.

“Where are you calling me from?” you wanted to know, “I never deleted your number.”

“I may or may not have stolen a phone from someone”, he mumbled, sounding like a child. “Lola blocked your number, and if she knew how many beers I’ve drank tonight, she would kill me. She’s crazy…”

You really don’t know how much.

“Drunk again, Dolan? Let me remind you what happened last time” you blurted bitterly, even though you were smiling a little bit. You couldn’t tell if you were still mad at him for sleeping with Lola, after all you were on a break, but Rachel didn’t forgive Ross for a couple of episodes. Would that count as months or weeks?

He groaned on the microphone, “I’m sorry, so sorry. I-I- hate myself for that,” he said, “I regret it so much. I don’t want to marry this bitc-” he hiccupped and laughed, “shit, sorry, I shouldn’t be talking that way about my future wife, huh?”

The sarcasm made you laugh a little, and pressing the phone tightly against your ear, you looked at the papers that were on your bedside table. Every word he said pushed you into getting him back.

“You will be happy, Ethan” you said, “You will see.”

“Not without you” he slurred once again, making your heart skip once more. You could hear the music that was blasting on his bachelor party but he was talking louder than the music. He kept silent for a few seconds before talking again, “I can’t believe I let you go that easily.”

You wanted to say something back, but before you could open your mouth, he hang up. On purpose or not; he said the right thing to convince you completely. You were getting Ethan Dolan back on your side.

 -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 “So, have you ever imagined yourself walking down the aisle?” Ethan asked, his head on your lap and your hands playing with his locks, “I mean, do you want to get married?”

“Yes, I want to, and yes, I have pictured myself walking down the aisle” you laughed. His eyes landed on you, a sweet smile on his cheeks and blushing a little bit.

“And who is waiting for you at the end?”

You caressed his cheeks.

“The only man I have pictured being married to.”

 Standing outside the church, with papers in hand, you knew that you were going to be on the cover of every magazine on the country. Man, privacy wasn’t going to be a thing for months. But you didn’t care about that when Grayson emailed you the test results, the last proof needed, and you printed it before leaving your house. You were late, and you make sure you were; you wanted to end this as Lola had wanted it. On every social media.

With only some old jeans on and Ethan’s sweatshirt, you ran over the church’s steps. A lot of photographers were waiting outside, and as they didn’t recognize you because you were wearing the hood over your head, it wasn’t hard to get into the church. Cameron was waiting for you on the entrance, Grayson had already told her our plan, and she smiled at you when she pulled the hood down.

“Go and get the love of your life back, girl” she said. You smiled at her, and as the both of you walked into the aisle, everything seemed to stop.

He was standing next to Lola wearing a dark suit, and as you stared at him, the bags under his eyes broke your heart. Grayson was by his side, obviously being his best man. It wasn’t until you were two steps into the aisle that gasps were heard, a lot of the guests recognizing you and making everyone turn their heads to look at you. And when his hazel eyes fell on you, opened with surprise and happiness, you couldn’t move your eyes from him.

“Cam, would you do me a favor and read this out loud?” you smashed the papers against her chest and started walking his way, down the aisle. You could hear Cameron reading the test’s result out loud, and how everyone started gasping and whispering. But your attention was in the man that kept on looking at you even when the woman beside him started to scream at him.

“Ethan! It’s not true!” she had said, grabbing his hands but he would pulled them back, not even giving her a quick glance, “Look at me!”

He didn’t. You kept a serious face, mostly when Lola took a few steps in your way and wanted to stop you, but you dodged her hand and as soon as you were only feet away from Ethan, you grabbed the back of his head in your hands and pulled him into you, kissing him in his own wedding, in front of his guests, and don’t giving a damn fuck about it. He was your man, and it was clear when he hugged your waist and pushed you into him, deepening the kiss.

You heard Lola crying and shouting, the photographers inside the church not wasting any minute to take their pictures. Grayson hollered and laughed behind his brother, happy that his twin got his girl back and that Lola wasn’t going to ruin his happiness. Everyone was shocked, disappointed, except for Ethan’s family. They all knew who was the one that could make him so happy, and it was only you.

You pulled away from his lips, a smug smile on your cheeks, and raised one of his eyebrows.

“Did you really think you would get rid of me that easily?” you joked, “or that I could let you go that easily? To marry someone else?”

Ethan smiled, pulling you against him once again and lifting you off from the floor. Your arms hugged his neck instantly, and as he made his way out of the church, all eyes on you, he kept on kissing you.

“You have no idea how much I fucking love you, Y/N” he mumbled against your skin, the claps of his family echoing and making the both of you laugh, “You’re the only one that I want to marry someday.”

You smirked.

“I told you I would walk down the aisle to the only man I pictured being married to,” you helped him open the church door, still in his arms, “Not being the same scenario, but the same man at the end of it.”

The photographers that were outside were on you instantly, the questions almost unrecognizable as everyone spoke at the same time. Ethan pulled you into his side, almost running into the car that was rented for the wedding day, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you jumped inside. He jumped inside too, throwing his suit jacket on the backseats and driving away from all the drama that was starting.

You would never let this man leave your life, and he would never let you leave his, not that easily. Not now, nor never.

[pollylynn]

Blackwing 602: Chapter 7—A Season 2 Caskett Multi-Chap, Now Complete

A/N: End of Saga. It’s only taken nearly two-and-a-half years, and the gift didn’t end up being quite what I thought it would be. I will, I think, eventually post this as a stand-alone multi-chap on AO3. For the moment, though, Chapter 1 is on AO3  and the other chapters are here on Tumblr  If you don’t want to read the first part, all you need to know is that in “A Chill Goes Through Her Veins” (1 x 05), Beckett pockets what turns out to be a very expensive pencil when she’s in Castle’s office. This part is set at the end of Sucker Punch (2 x 13)

Title: Blackwing 602, Chpater 7 WC: 1500

“Just so you know,” Vincent begins, “I am under strict orders from Lanie to give you grief for not giving in to her hard-sell tactics over the summer.” 

Kate silently opens and closes her mouth at the other end of the line. 

“. . . or–orders discharged?” she stammers when she finally finds her voice again. 

“Due diligence done.” Vincent, far more merciful than their mutual friend, laughs. “So tell me about the material. Lanie said it’s a 602?” 

“It is.” The response comes out with a little more starch in it than is reasonable, but she hears the skepticism shading the artist’s voice. She hears, and she can’t help being childishly offended. “Genuine, not a reproduction.” 

There’s a minute pause. Vincent is a stranger to her, but it doesn’t take an experienced Detective to pick up on the fact that her pushback has provoked the aural equivalent of an eye roll. “Could I get a few pictures of it? Phone camera snaps are fine.”

“Sure. Of course. Just a second.” 

The blush of embarrassment catches up to her. It’s a ridiculous thing to get defensive about, and she’s glad enough to have some busywork until she recovers herself. She retrieves the pencil from where it rests, safely back in its magician’s box now that it’s back at home with her, and sets up the shot. The pale wood of the desk is a good enough backdrop for the first shot, but she takes the barrel in hand for the second, wanting to bring the bevel with the lettering into sharp focus. 

“Coming through now,” she says, quickly hitting send before any self-consciousness about the curiously intimate image of the pencil resting lightly between her fingers can overtake her. 

“Yes, I see the thumbnails. The lettering does look vintage. Just let me—” There’s an abrupt silence on the end of the phone. She thinks for a second that the call has dropped. When Vincent speaks again, he sounds something more than surprised. “It’s used.” 

“Yeah.” A feeling of dread settles on her. “Yes. It’s—is that a . . . a problem?” 

It might be a problem. The thought hadn’t occurred to her, and in that moment, she’s suddenly aware just how attached she’s grown to this scheme of hers. She’s suddenly aware what a blow it would be to have to give it simply back to him, as is, minus half a dozen strokes in her own hand. 

“No,” Vincent says slowly. “It’s not a problem for me. And it does seem to be an original. Based on lettering and some of the details on the ferrule, I’d say it’s most likely on the early end of the Eberhard years.” There’s another pause that just might kill her. “I’m just curious how much a used one of these set you back. Purely professional curiosity. If you’re not comfortable—” 

“It’s not mine,” she blurts. “It’s—it belongs to a colleague.” She cringes at the word, but she’s not about to spend any amount of time trying to find a better one with Vincent, The Artist She Is Not At All Interested In on the line. “I wound up with it by . . . mistake, and I didn’t realize—and now it’s been so long, I feel like I can’t just . . .” 

She trails off, but Vincent, The More Merciful Than Lanie, steps into the breach. “You can’t send the casserole dish back empty.” 

“Exactly.” She laughs a little too hard, a little too loudly, but it’s genuine. “That’s exactly it.” 

****************************

The process takes forever, but it’s also done in no time at all. It starts with sketches Vincent sends her of the various options. She thinks, at first, that the most dramatic is the obvious choice—wings spread to their maximum extension, one capacious ear rotated far away from the other. But she’s drawn, suddenly and certainly, to something far simpler, the wings wrapped tightly around the body, the ears perked up, and the gaze straight on, bearing the suggestion of a secret joke. 

After the sketches, there’s the hand off. Vincent is easy going and cute. He’s funny, and skews decidedly nerdy at the prospect of working in such a prized medium. He vibes decided interest in her, but rolls with it when she projects Not At All Interested back at him. 

And she hands it off in its plain, stiff-sided box—this thing she has held on to and ostentatiously forgotten about without ever forgetting about it—and it’s hard. It takes forever. And it’s done in no time at all. 

It’s exquisite. Vincent shows it to her with pride and there’s no need to manufacture even a scintilla of her appreciation. It’s simply exquisite. 

She transfers the careful bed of gauzy packing material back to the magician’s box. She flips up the four sides and taps the lid in place. She ties an intricate bow, and the whole thing makes one last trip in her bag and back into her desk drawer. 

She’s calm about it now that it’s done—now that it’s perfect. She doesn’t try to map out the perfect moment to give it to him. She doesn’t even really wonder when that might be. She simply tucks it into the drawer and knows she’ll know when the moment arrives. 

She does know. 

Dick Coonan is dead. Dick Coonan has been dead and no one but her—no one but him—seems to remember where on the scuffed tiles the blood of her mother’s killer pooled. No one but her—no one but him—seems to think her hands look any different. 

She’s been on desk duty while the shooting clears. He has been . . . not quite absent. He calls. He texts her things. He comes by for flying visits, and when he’s there, he talks nonstop. He keeps his eyes averted from the exact spot on the scuffed tiles that Dick Coonan’s blood pooled. He keeps his eyes averted from her hands. 

And then the shooting clears and there he is, laden down with bags and cartons and containers full of every food imaginable. There he is, talking nonstop until she quietly tells her it wasn’t his fault—until he solemnly tells her that he is going. 

But he isn’t going. He can’t go, and she tells him just that. She tells him that this job is hard—that it was hard long before there phantom blood stains on the tiles, on her hands. She tells him that she’s used to him, that he has to stay. And he says he will. He’ll stay. 

She doesn’t give it to him right then. They share a meal first. They share several meals, mixed and matched. But she does give it to him later, not with a flourish, but with a simple, matter-of-fact push across the stretch of her desk that they’re sharing. 

He gives her a curious look, but he’s too much the kid to delay satisfaction with questions. He studies the watered-silk oblong for a moment, then tugs at the ribbon.Delight spreads over his face as the magician’s box sides fall away. He takes a long moment to appreciate the artistry, then reach eagerly for the gauzy packing material. 

She sees realization dawn even as as he pulling the gleaming ebony barrel free. His eyes go wide, and the tip of his thumb finds what is obviously the still-familiar bevel on the eraser. His fingers roam, eager to familiarize themselves all over again, but their movements hardly last half a second. 

They stop absolutely when he spies the sculpture, the minute, painstakingly detailed figure of a bat, with its wings wrapped tight around its own body, peering straight out of an intelligent, mischievous face as though it would like to share a secret joke. 

“This is amazing,” he says in the end—he says simply as he folds his palm gently around it and brings it close to his heart. “Kate. It’s amazing.” 

He doesn’t ask . . .  anything. He just holds it close to his heart, and she sees the threads of more stories than she can count spinning out between them. 

She sees herself punk-ing him, faking him out with harrowing tales pencil adventures that never, ever happened. She sees him falling for it, wanting to fall for every word. She sees him leaning forward, eager, with his knuckles pressed against his lips as she doles out the whole story—eventually doles it out—in minuscule increments.  

“Is there—?” He trails off, enraptured with the gift. It’s an effort of will to bring his attention back to her, but she’s fine with that. She’s absolutely fine with the way his fingers open so he can take quick peeks at the little bat, then close greedily around it again. “Did I miss an occasion?” 

“No,” she says, smiling to herself—smiling at him like she has a secret joke she’s willing to share. No, he hasn’t missed an occasion. He won’t miss any. 

He’s staying.  A/N: Thanks for reading. I’m sorry—especially at this moment in time—that I wrote something like 8000 words about a pencil.