#i’ve only ever got my nails done once years ago and it wasn’t anything huge she just painted them with regular nail polish

[szczylpierdolony]

ok i figured it out

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

If you find me on the edge, we’ll jump together

gwynriel pirate au pt 7-god may be a man but the devil comes in the form of a women

check out the other parts if you want :) pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6,

Feyre, feyre, feyre. Feyre fucking archeron. The name of the women before them reverberated through out her body, echoing against her ears, clouding every thought in her mind. 

Gwyn was going to rip this bitch to shreds. why must the archeron’s be such a huge part of her life. One she consider her family, the other was love gone sour but the youngest archeron, the pain this women caused her was tenfold to anything Elain could have given her. 

She hardened her self to the memories that arouse, let her anger burn through any remaining hope to salvage what they once were. 

Her history with the assassin was long but her seconds was longer, she scolded herself for being so selfish. 

Gwyn looked over to Nesta and struggled intensely not to go to her. To anyone else she appeared as she always did, cold, indifferent, unbothered. But gwyn saw the slight twitch of her hands, and narrow of her eyebrows. the way she dug her nails into her palms and the almost imperceptible change of her breathing. This unexpected visit had shaken her second and Gwyn knew first hand she didn’t do well when she wasn’t in control. 

Nesta permitted seeing her sister all of once a year and gwyn had forced her to spend an hour with her just a few short weeks ago. 

And while she was looking at Nesta, Nesta was staring at the strange interaction going on between Feyre and The Shadowsinger’s own second. 

Gwyn’s mind was spinning, going over every way this could possibly go wrong, there were quite a few if shew as being honest. Her gaze cut to Azriel, his features gave away nothing except she knew recognition when she saw it. 

Azriel did not know her, but Rhys sure as hell did. 

Feyre’s eyes locked with Rhys’s, there was tension there, hatred even if they couldn’t look away. 

“You look as radiant as ever Feyre, darling.” His voice was light, it was teasing with a hint of mockery. Although it would be impossible to dispute that Feyre was beautiful, even in the dingy light of a grotesque bar she couldn’t help but draw the eye to her. 

Feyre could never be anything short of perfect. The irony of her being a trained murderer was not lost on anyone that knew her. 

“You look about as well as the bottom of my shoe.” Her features were one of practiced disgust. And yet she was in a room with some of her greatest friends turned enemies and all she could do was stare at that boy. “What the hell are you doing here Rhysand?”  

“I happen to find that the daily bouts of my life are none of your business anymore.” anymore. Clearly there was history here, but exactly what kind? Romantic or platonic, romantic or platonic.

Feyre stared back at him with a glare that could rival icy coldness of her sister, still clutching the lives of innocents on the thin line between life and death. A line she knew all too well.

This was going to be so fucking annoying. So gwyn took the opportunity to interrupt whatever that was, plastering a grin to her own face as she drawled, “Feyre archeron, so unlike you to be so distracted you don’t even say hello to a dear friend,” Gwyn gave her a look of mock surprise, “by a boy no less.” 

She turned towards her with distain, “Yes, my apologies, hello Gwyneth. You too sister.” Nesta remained silent, thankfully, in order for all of them to walk out of here alive her second had to keep swords to herself. 

“I remember mentions of a chat?” Azriel supplied quietly. 

Feyre’s mood brightened, “ah yes thank you for the reminder, we were getting off track. I have a proposal.” 

While she spoke, Gwyn’s eyes met Azriel’s from across the room. I know what you are about to do and I need you to please just follow my lead. Gwyn knew as well as any that the eyes told stories, she was praying that this wouldn’t be too much of a stretch. 

She needed her pirate enemy on her side. I’ll be damned, gwyneth berdara used the word please. 

You are despicable. 

You love it. 

Over my dead fucking body. 

No need for the language your majesty. 

I’ll use whatever language I want. 

Azriel inched closer to Feyre, slowly pulling out a knife. 

Stop, Azriel you have to stop. gwyn pleaded with her eyes.

Why? There’s almost twenty of us. 

Yeah, we would need an army of hundreds to defeat that women. 

Azrie scoffed, that’s impossible. 

Beyond her being the greatest assassin of our generation, she’s- 

Gwyn could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. She watched as he slowly but sure connected the dots, noting the way she radiated power. 

I’ll be damned, she’s fae isn’t she? 

That women can kill you without even lifting a finger. 

Oh Berdara are you worried for me?

Gwyn was about to respond when her senses kicked in and she noticed it was abnormally quiet. She forced her gaze away from azriel’s to find everyone staring at them. 

“It’s almost as if you want me to slit their throats.” Feyre sighed. “Now are you two done?” 

She stayed silent so Feyre took it to mean continue, but really Gwyn was just contemplating all the ways she could cut out her vocal cords. 

“Anyways, back to my proposition. Under the law, pirates are considered criminals, however her great majesty, the queen turns a blind eye to the deeds of your...folk.” She sounded disgusted. 

“And here I was under the impression that you murdered for a living.” Nesta responded. 

“I murder for the sake of the greater good, you murder for fun. We are not the same.” 

“You are a delusional coward.” 

“And you are nothing, not even worth an insult.” Feyre laughed. “At least our imbecile of a sister had the curtesy of retaining some magic, but you dear sister could not even light a flame if your life depended on it.” 

“Ah yes Feyre Archeron the greatest assassin to ever live, a puppet on a string still craving the validation of a queen who cares nothing for you. Poweful fae who falls to her knees for the very same you think yourself better than.” Rhys to his credit did not react to the clear insult. 

“You, my dear sister, are so much less than nothing,” She tilted her head and smiled, repeating her words. “and you believe you are everything.” Feyre grip on the knives she was holding tightened against the throats of Tarquin and Viviane. “It’s pathetic really cause you’re the only one.” 

The archeron sisters stared daggers at each other, each refusing to back down. 

Gwyn’s mask changed from insane adventurer to the pirate captain she occasionally had to be. 

Her voice turned icy, her posture straightened, and she clenched her jaw, “Nesta stand down.” Gwyn ordered, dominance infused in those three simple words. She turned to Feyre, “How about we discuss in private where family and ex lovers do not intervene.” 

“And ex friends are better?” 

“Oh Feyre, sweetie, don’t get it confused, you are clearly here for a reason, my only concern is, have you come as my enemy or as my ally?”

“Me holding your crew hostage doesn’t give you a clue?” She droned. 

“I’ve known you far too long to ever be fooled into making assumptions of your intentions.” 

“I’m glad somebody here has some semblance of a brain.” Feyre shot a look in Nesta’s direction and then one to Rhys. “Now I am going to let you two go,” Feyre purred. “But do not mistake that for safety. Captains come.” Gwyn rolled her eyes to Azriel 

What are we dogs? 

Obviously we pale in comparison to the greatness of this women. 

Gwyn laughed before she could stop herself. Everyone in the silent bar turned to look at her. Gwyn stared right back refusing to be embarrassed although she felt color flushed her neck. Azriel flashed her a smile, one that would send any ordinary soul to their knees. But gwyn wasn’t any ordinary soul, right?

They followed Feyre into the back room, watching her sit on the chair like a throne before speaking, “As I was saying my queen overlooks your faults for various reasons of her own but this fairytale you are chasing must be put an end to.”

Azriel crossed his arms, “and why is that?”

“Like I said the queen has her reasons, however, she is willing to make a deal with you two.” 

“No.” No, no, no. Gwyn was done with the queen. Forcing the memories down her mind reacted like a moth to a flame repeating the mantra that got her to where she was today, never again she promised herself, never again. 

Feyre ignored her. “Her majesty is willing to absolve you of all your crimes and keep both The Shadowsinger and The Silver majesty extremely well off for the rest of your lives.” 

“What’s the catch?” Azriel questioned.

“You pirates, always so untrusting.”

“What’s the catch?” He repeated through gritted teeth. 

“You allow the huge hall to be conquered in the queens name.” 

“Why would we ever do that?” Feyre was many many things but she was not an idiot. There is no reason for her to ever believe either captain would agree to the fools bargain. So she waited for her to play the rest of her hand. 

Feyre laughed as if they were beneath her. “Because you need me.”

Tagging: @imsointobooks @meher-sumedha @himadrij @gwynrielsupremacy @ipsa-est-lux-plenae @flora-shadowshine @allthebooksunderthemoon @valkygwyn @bookish-isha @lattristantketchup @generalnesta (If you want to be added or removed please let me know)

[graceloveswolves]

Paul Lahote Oneshot

*Since a lot of you guys really liked my requested preference, here’s the second part you guys have been asking for! There will be more do not worry! I have been having a busy few weeks and I’m also working on a few other requests so please stay tuned!*

@melinsk1 @cookiecakeslive @takk-foralt @dillybuggg @britty443​ @oi-itsemily​ @eviction-notice-no666​ @prettyinblack231​

___________________________________________________________

  It’s been two weeks...   And I’ve never felt so dead. Like a part of my soul has been detached, left in my hometown of Forks, just rotting away. I think I’m going crazy, after all the years of mistreatment from my old family and my unstable emotions, I think I’ve finally drove myself over the cliff of insanity. Looking back at my life in Forks, I assume that Jacob and his family are what had been my anchor, keeping me held down and away from my lonely thoughts and self hate.   Leaving me nothing but painful memories and broken promises, this heart break has probably been the most painful thing I have ever experienced. I had puffy, swollen eyes all week, ever since I had moved here to be honest. Crying myself to sleep, if I slept. I had been too scared of the nightmares to fall asleep. Every tiny thing triggering me from a smell, a song, a color, any reference from my old life back in Forks, and I would start balling, falling apart all over again. I was left with nothing.

  Only my dreams, which weirdly consisted of the stranger I had bumped into, Paul Lahote. I’m not sure what my subconscious had taken from him, but I wish to god it would stop. Every night I would dream about him, about the events that had took place in front of Jacob’s yard. And weirdly enough I thought about the stranger all the time. What it would have been like to be his friend back then, to have known him like Jacob did, or whatever him and his weird cult had done back then.

   But now... all I have is this stupid house my ‘new’  family bought for me in Texas. Stuck alone, while my ‘new’ family come and check on me from time to time. Their names are the Beryl's, just your usual rich, snobby family. Apparently they owed my adopted parents a favor, and opted taking me into their household instead. They are very rich, with expensive watches and pearl necklaces. The first thing I noticed about them were their clean, expensive suits and neatly trimmed haircuts. It makes me wonder why they couldn’t have just paid my parents out of their debt. God knows they have more money then they need.

     They didn’t hover much, the family was pretty uninterested in me, aside from having groceries delivered to my own house every Monday. The Beryl's consisted of mainly boys, however they had a daughter that couldn’t have been too much older than me. She would come over from time to time and take me out to go shopping and such. She had even made me get my nails done, to which made my daily task even harder, why people would do this for fun I have no idea. I looked down at my red and medium length nails in annoyance. I tried to make sure I got them as short as I could, to which Mary complained but complied.      She had been the closest thing I have had to a friend recently. She had told me about her life and her family, her crazy exes and celebrity crushes. She had also made sure I had the finest foods and the trending clothes. The closest thing I had to a sister as well, although we never really did talk about me, our relationship had consisted of her talking and me listening. Which I never had much of a problem with, it was always something different, never boring. 

   She had shown me around the spacious house, which consisted of five bed rooms, a huge kitchen the size of my entire downstairs back in my old house, a living room, a pool with a hot tub, five bathrooms, each inside the bedrooms, which were about the size of the actual bedroom ironically, and it even had its own theater room. It had to be worth more money then I had ever seen in my life. Worth more money then I’ll ever make in my entire life. I had gotten the biggest room, with a walk in bathroom and a balcony as well. 

  It was kind of ridiculous. They bought a whole mansion for one tiny human, who has no siblings or friends. Just her and her tiny suitcase against the world. The huge house tour had been given by her, which she talked about it like it was worth nothing, which made me wonder what her place must look like if she thought this house was a downgrade.    She was only at the house on Mondays, which was when we would hang out in the pool, or the hot tub, while she talked about whatever was currently going on in her life, or others, I had learned so much from her within two days of being with her then I had learned in the past two years of going to high school. She was a nice, preppy girl, definitely a gossip girl, always talking about her friend’s drama or the latest trends. However I quite enjoyed it, it took me away from my thoughts, my loneliness, my pain. It was a distraction from my past few shitty weeks I have had. Which I couldn’t bear to even tell her, not that she would have anything to say, probably would have changed the subject to some type of dress she saw while shopping. 

Speaking of shopping....

    She had completely filled my bathroom sized closet with dresses, skirts, and other clothes I hadn’t even known existed a month ago. All these purses, shoes, tights, things I’ve never tried on in my entire life. Brands that costs thousands of dollars. However, much to Mary’s dismay,  I have been wearing the same three pairs of jeans and t shirts that I brought down here with me for the past two weeks. I didn’t feel comfortable indulging myself with stuff bought with other people’s money. After all, I reminded myself that this life wasn’t permanent and as soon as I get a college education, I’d be out in the world, far away from this place, starting a new and fresh life. One with just me and my own house I bought with my own money... and maybe a cat. 

     A buzzing in my back pocket had awaken me from my deep thoughts, I had grabbed my phone that had been provided by the Beryl’s, and looked down at it. My eyes widened in shock, adrenaline seeping its way into my veins, or maybe it was my anxiety, I’ve had a bunch of both since I’ve been put in my new situation. It was a voicemail, from a number that will forever be memorized inside my brain.

 It was Jacob. 

  It was the first time I had heard from him since my last day in Forks, where I had yelled at him in the rain. I could still feel the icy cold rain and soggy clothes clinging to my shivering body. I had never thought that he would reach out, I’d thought that our last falling out would have been the end of our friendship. Maybe I’m right, maybe this is just him saying goodbye, maybe it’s him chewing me out, with Jacob, there’s no telling what it could be. I looked around, even though Mary had already left the house an hour ago, I still made sure I was alone.

  I opened the voicemail and held the phone up to my ear, preparing for the unexpected.

 “Uh, hello, this is me, Jake. I uh, just wanted to say that I’m sorry it had to be this way. But um, I need you to come back....Well, you need to come back. There’s been a problem, a major problem. Like life or death, and I know we didn’t exactly leave on the best terms, but I really need you to come back for just a few days. It’s time I explain everything, everything that had went down before you left. I-It’s very important that you know, you can crash at my house like old times. And then I swear, you can go back to your life and you won’t ever hear from me again. I just uh, I need you to come back here for a few days, please Y/N.“

   Once the message had ended, I stood there, trying to process what I had just heard. What could have been so important that he’d ruin our entire friendship over? And why must I suddenly know now? Why wait two weeks?  All these questions had been flooding through my head. I finally put my phone down, tossing it on my nightstand. 

 Surely the Beryl’s could care less what I was doing, as long as I was being fed and kept alive like they promised my family. I bet they wouldn’t even know I was gone, it was Monday night, they won’t send Mary back until next Monday. I had an entire week to my self, with nothing better to do then hate life itself. I could go and see what Jacob had to say, and worst come to worst, I leave and never see him again. Best comes to best, I finally figure out what the hell he had risked everything for, and maybe I can leave with some closure, some peace, and finally be able to start my new life with happiness.

  I had glanced at my suit case that was still filled with my old clothes, I may have not known much about anything at the moment. But one things for sure...

I’m going back to Forks.

[hockeylvr59]

Honest Love Part 5 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note:  It only took me two months to write this next part but I think maybe just maybe I’m starting to get some muse back. Let me know what you think about this part. 

Warnings: smut, cursing

Word Count: 3,345

~~~~~~~

Looking over at the clock beside the bed you watched as the numbers flipped from 11:59 to 12:00, your brain thinking about everything that meant. Not only were you now officially 7 weeks pregnant but it was arguably the most special day of the year. It was so special because 22 years ago Laura Makar had given birth to your best friend, the love of your life, and now the father of the little bundle of cells growing inside of you. 

Watching Cale sleep, you smiled thinking about everything you had planned for his birthday. He had a hockey game to play but you were still determined to celebrate and you had a few tricks up your sleeve of things he’d enjoy. Starting now. 

Folding the covers back a bit, you slid down the bed so that you were level with your boyfriend’s hips. Then you carefully tugged his boxers down just enough to free his soft length, peeking up to check for any sign that he was starting to stir. Satisfied that he hadn’t started to wake just yet, you licked your lips to wet them before leaning forward to press kisses all along his dick feeling at least this part of his anatomy start to respond to the stimuli. Using your fingers, you continued to stroke him to full hardness before finally wrapping your lips around the pink head of him. 

It was at that action that you felt him jump a little and you watched as his eyes slowly fluttered open. He groaned seeing you using kitten licks against his tip and you smirked before taking him fully into your mouth for just a moment. 

“Happy birthday.” You whispered softly when you pulled back to breathe. Hearing Cale groan again, you took him back into your mouth, taking him as deeply as possible. Your nails traced teasingly down his thighs and you continued to blow him until he breathed your name, his voice strangled. “Just relax handsome. Let me take care of you.” You assured him. “Birthday boys deserve birthday blow jobs.” You added, feeling empowered by his reactions. As you took him back into your mouth you felt his hands tangle in your hair and you hummed around him in response letting him know that you liked it. 

Your blowjob wasn’t rushed but it wasn’t really slow and lazy either. You knew that you needed to get him off and then let him go back to sleep so that he was well rested for his birthday game. Focused on your goal, you went through the series of things you know he likes until he was a mess beneath you, squirming and cursing softly with his eyes blown. 

“That’s it handsome. Cum for me.” You murmured pressing kisses along his length while you caught your breath. Sinking down on him again you rolled his balls between your fingers until you felt him twitch and groan, his semen spilling in ropes into your mouth. Swallowing, you licked him clean before tucking him back into his boxers and sliding back up the bed to kiss him. It was clear his brain was foggy and you smirked to yourself before settling back against his side. “Get some sleep hun. Busy birthday ahead.” You assured him, smiling when he mumbled something resembling a thank you before crashing hard, his hand settling back against your stomach. 

______

Cale had already left for morning skate by the time you woke up again and you smiled when you realized he had left you breakfast. It was his birthday and you were supposed to be taking care of him but that was still hard when your fatigue levels were still much higher than you would like them to be. Eating the food, you looked around your living room thinking about all the things you needed to do for Cale’s birthday. You had planned to run the errands this morning while he was out and then once he left for the game you were going to put it all together, decorating, laying out his presents, and making dinner for his post-game meal before heading to the arena yourself. 

Sliding into some oversized clothes after finishing breakfast, you headed out to pick up the semi-healthy cake you had ordered for your boyfriend along with the array of balloons. Thankfully it was all easy enough to hide and you were back just relaxing on the couch when he came home to take his pregame nap. 

“There’s the birthday boy!” You greeted with a smile, laughing as his cheeks flushed in response. “Did you eat at the rink or should I make lunch?” You questioned, nodding when he replied that he hadn’t eaten yet. 

“You don’t have to make me anything, I’ve got it.” He insists but you roll your eyes and move to the kitchen anyway. “Go pick out your suit and stuff for later. I can make up a quick lunch.” You declare, not willing to take no for an answer. Cale knows better than to argue by now over little things like this and so he heads into the bedroom, the sound of drawers and the closet door echoing through the apartment as he gathered his things for later. By the time he had returned you had made up a protein rich salad for him and yourself and you settled in beside him at the table to eat, Cale checking in on how you’re feeling. 

“Good. Definitely tired enough to nap with you if you don’t mind, but I slept in and have just been chilling all morning so baby and I are doing just fine I promise. We’re excited about daddy’s birthday.” You finish your explanation teasing. You know that Cale isn’t expecting anything for his birthday but that’s just no fun. 

“My birthday isn’t that big of a deal.” He insists, modest as ever, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Your birthday is a huge deal.” You counter, sliding your hand across the table to lace with his own. “It’s the day the universe gave me my best friend and soulmate. And this year is extra special because it’s the last birthday before this little one arrives.” Cale just grins softly, his expression conceding defeat. 

The rest of lunch was quiet and when you both finished, Cale quickly moved to clean up the dishes before offering you a hand to join him for his pregame nap. Cuddling close, you settled in, your body immediately sinking into the mattress in relief. You’d had no idea that pregnancy could be this exhausting and you were grateful to have a boyfriend whose job included naptime because it was so much easier to fall asleep beside him, tucked in his arms. 

_____

Watching Cale leave for the rink, you were immediately filled with excitement giving you energy like you hadn’t had in days. You started in the kitchen, working to prep one of Cale’s favorite meals but in a crockpot version so that you could leave it while you went to the game and it would be ready to eat when you came home. 

From there you used a helium pump to blow up all of the balloons until the area around your dining table was full of bunches of regular silver,navy, and white balloons; letter balloons reading ‘FEELIN 22’ were floating above the table; and glow in the dark balloons stretched from the front door into the kitchen and living room to surprise him when you both walked through the door later. 

Wrapping Cale’s presents, you placed those on the table alongside his cake. Deeming everything done, you finally grabbed yourself a snack satisfied with your work and looking forward to seeing Cale’s reaction to it all. 

A glance over at the kitchen clock revealed that it was only an hour and a half before game time and you still had to shower and get ready. Quickly getting clean and shaving, you slid Cale’s last present carefully onto your body before you pulled on some jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt, grabbing Cale’s jersey to throw on when you got to the rink. A quick little bit of makeup and a brush through your hair and you were ready to head out, turning on all of the LED balloons as you headed out the door. 

By the time you got out the door and through Denver traffic you had missed pregame warmups. Greeting the girls in your section you smiled and settled into your seat ready to go. 

Cale on the other hand, did not seem so ready to go. Throughout the first period you could just tell that something was off about his game and it wasn’t until he took a stupid penalty in the corner of the rink closest to you that you realized he had probably looked for you during warmups and when you weren’t there it sent his mind spinning. Shooting him a quick text of a picture of him sitting in the box teasing him about how that wasn’t a good birthday present, you hoped he checked his phone during intermission to calm himself. 

When the second period started it was clear that something had changed, whether one of his teammates said something or he had indeed seen your message. With the Avs on a power play, Cale fired a puck on net which was beautifully tipped in front to put the Avs on the board. Just over five minutes later he danced into the offensive zone drawing defenders and leaving them in his dust before slamming the puck into the back of the net past the screened goalie. 

With another assist on the empty netter to cap off the game you smiled at his sudden three point night cheering how that was your birthday boy. The girls just laughed and smiled asking if you had anything planned for Cale’s birthday as you made your way down to the locker rooms. 

“Made his favorite dinner, a few presents, a semi healthy cake.” You shrugged. “Nothing too crazy or Cale would probably kill me but I have to spoil him a little.” You stated, a mischievous smile crossing your lips. The girls just laughed, reminding you to keep the marks hidden or else you’d be hearing it from them tomorrow with the team’s halloween plans. You flushed and rolled your eyes at them but couldn’t deny the assumptions they had made. 

With it being Cale’s birthday and him having a three point night you knew that it would be a little while before he finished with media and made his way out to you. Though you were starting to get hungry you waited patiently, greeting the guys that came out before him. When Cale finally appeared, you let him scoop you up kissing his lips with a light peck. 

“Look at you scoring a beauty of a goal on your birthday.” You grinned, your face going soft as he shared a bashful expression, his cheeks flush. “You ready to go home, birthday boy?” You asked, sliding your hand along his back as he agreed, leading you out to his car to head home. 

On the ride home you prayed the LED balloons were still lit and that Cale would enjoy everything you had planned for him. When you were about halfway there he asked about food and you assured him that you’d find something at home to throw together trying to hide the fact that food was already piping hot and ready. Cale just nodded and continued on the way back to your apartment, some fatigue showing on his features after tonight’s game. 

As you rode the elevator upstairs, you kissed him again softly, murmuring about how great he was tonight and how much you and baby love him. When he opened the door you stepped inside, moving to kick your shoes off and smiling to yourself at the glowing balloons lighting the room dimly. 

Cale clearly didn’t notice them until after he had closed and locked the door, kicked his shoes off, and dropped his keys and wallet onto the side table in the entryway. 

“Why don’t I...woah.” Cale murmured seeing the glowing orbs floating the entire way to the kitchen. “Yn….” He breathed. “What did you do?” He asked as he let you take his hands, walking backward as you guided him into the kitchen and living room. There you flipped on a light after just a minute, lighting up the rest of your work. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” You exclaimed softly, smiling up at him. Cale’s cheeks flushed and he ducked his head. 

“I told you you didn’t have to do anything.” He mumbled, leaning down to kiss you softly. “But thank you.” He adds, his hands sliding around your waist. “You’ve already outdone yourself and yet I feel like there’s more.” He chuckles shaking his head softly. You cocked your head in a ‘maybe’ expression before kissing him softly again.

“Why don’t you go change out of this suit while I serve up dinner?” You suggested sliding your hands down his chest. Cale eyed you for a moment before complying, heading into the bedroom. Shedding your Makar jersey onto a chair, you moved to grab dishes, serving up the meal you’d made earlier as Cale came back, his eyes going wide at the familiar smell. 

“You didn’t?” He accused softly. 

“I did.” You confirmed, a bright grin on your face. “It might be a little different but it should taste very similar.” You assured him carrying two plates to the kitchen table before moving to grab the bottle of non-alcoholic wine you’d picked up since it was a special occasion. 

“You’re something else.” Cale mumbles kissing you again as he sits down across from you taking in his presents and cake as well. 

“I told you it was a special day.” You remind him, shrugging. “Plus the presents are from baby so I didn’t really do that much.” You winked, opening the wine and pouring it into two glasses. “To 22. To my handsome man and baby daddy. May this year bring you lots of happiness and blessings.” You toast. 

Cale’s cheeks continued to be rosy red as he accepted your toast, clinking his glass with yours before taking a sip and nodding in approval, looking over at the label as you took your own sip. Satisfied that though it tasted like the real thing there was zero alcohol, he dove into his meal, his eyes going wide in delight as he tasted it. Knowing that you had done well, you dug into your own plate as well enjoying the meal you had made for him. 

When plates were cleared you complied and let Cale move to do the dishes and clean up the little bit of leftovers in the crockpot. While he did that you grabbed candles for his cake and a small trash bag for the wrapping paper bringing both over to the table so that you could finish celebrating his birthday after getting a couple pictures of your handsome man. 

Cale’s first present was just a new pair of dress socks, something fun for him to add into the rotation. The second was concert tickets for a band he likes when they come to Denver in a few months. His third and seemingly final present was the one really from the baby, a mug saying ‘daddy, est. 2021’ on it. Cale’s eyes went soft at the sight and he leaned to kiss you softly thanking you for all of his gifts. After kissing him back for a moment you insisted that he needed to blow out the candles on his cake and then you cut each of you a small piece as you curled up on the couch to cuddle for a bit and wind down from the excitement. 

You could tell Cale was getting tired but there was still one more thing left and you slid his hand under your shirt along your hip teasing to him that there was something different and special under your clothes. It took him a minute to catch on, but then his eyes went wide. 

“Want to unwrap your last present?” You whispered teasingly in his ear, your breath ghosting along his skin. When Cale nodded you moved to get up, pulling him back to the bedroom before settling his hands back against the edge of your clothes. As he carefully stripped you from them you watched as his eyes grew wide and dark and his tongue swept out against his bottom lip. Slowly he revealed the strappy black satin, which carefully framed your still flat stomach, and his hands lingered at your waist, his thumbs swiping along your exposed belly. 

“Holy fuck sweetheart.” Cale breathed, his voice strained. “You look...wow.” There was nothing like leaving your boyfriend mostly speechless to boost your confidence. 

“I know.” You grinned. “Now what are you going to do with me birthday boy?” You teased softly, your fingers trailing down his abs to the waistband of his joggers. Cale groaned before lifting you and carefully tossing you up onto the bed, his body crawling over yours as you settled back against the pillows. You felt his eyes rake over every inch of your body before he just kissed you, communicating everything he was struggling to find the words to say. 

You knew this was the best birthday present you could have given him and you just relaxed beneath him waiting to see what he was going to do next. Slowly his mouth kissed down along your body, worshipping every inch of exposed skin. As he kissed over your belly, he started searching for how to take the fabric off of you and you guided his hands to the tiny hooks along the curve of your spine. With that he was pulling the top piece off leaving you in just the strappy panties. 

More exposed for him, you reached up to slide your palms under his shirt wanting to even the playing field and with a careful tug he complied, pulling it over his head as he settled more firmly on top of you. 

“Fuck...look at you.” Cale breathed. “How is it somehow hotter seeing you in lingerie knowing that you’re showing off where our baby is growing?” He mumbled, kissing down along your neck as he worked the panties off of you as well leaving you nude under him. Smiling, you carded your fingers through his hair with one hand while the other cupped his ass. 

“Hmm...just wanted to give my man something special for his birthday.” You whispered. 

“Best birthday.” Cale agreed before kissing you again. 

From there it was a series of gentle caresses, no words needing to be spoken as Cale slid his joggers off before settling himself between your thighs and sliding inside you slowly. Sighing his name, you pressed your nails into his back urging him to move until he found a pace that felt perfect. Arching up into him you moaned softly, basking in the drag of his cock along your inner walls. Everything felt so much more sensitive and you found it hard to stay quiet as he made love to you slowly and lazily. 

It was clear by his movements that he was exhausted from the long day so neither of you pushed to extend this any longer than was necessary. As you fluttered around him with your orgasm, Cale spilled inside of you before collapsing off to the side, both of you sticky with mixed fluids. 

After a few minutes, Cale moved to help you up to pee and clean up and then you settled back into bed, your head on his chest. As you drifted off, you whispered to Cale one more ‘happy birthday’ and a smile slid across your face as he replied that it was perfect, his lips pressing against the top of your head. 

Perfect was exactly what you had wanted to give him because perfect was what he deserved.

Birthday Decorations & Presents:

[hstyleshoney]

Stay With Me  - part one

AU friends with benefits but things get complicated, like they always do

word count: around 8.3K // angst, alcohol consumption, language 

A/N: Hiiiiii! So, back in September I posted a preview kinda thing to a fic I was just casually writing and now I have finally finished it! Took a while but I’ve been going through some shit but now it’s done! It’s gonna be a two part thing (I think) because it turned out way longer than I first expected, and this part is still so long, woops.  It’s the first thing I’ve written in YEARS so please be nice haha.  (Also, English is not my first language so I’m sorry if some grammar is wrong. I’ve proofread it many times but it could still be bit off in some places.)

AND please let me know if you liked it and if I should post part 2 as well. Feedback is so so so appreciated because it’s been sooooooooo long since I posted anything and I’m scared hahah anyways..!

Hope you like it!

His lips were hot against her skin when he leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“Your place or mine tonight?”

She smiled to herself and her heart skipped a beat when she felt his warm body press against her back. The music was loud around the two of them and she could hardly hear herself think, yet his voice was clear as day. She turned to look at him and was met by his familiar warm grin as he looked right back.

“What makes you think I’ll be going home with you tonight?” she teased.

He snorted and raised his eyebrows, and she had to bite down on the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from smiling too much.

“Well, love” he started and spun her around so he could place his hands on her hips. She felt her cheeks flush under his stare as he pulled her even closer to him. He smelled like beer and tequila mixed with that cologne she loved so much. Her knees weakened and he smirked. “I think we both know you are.”

He was right.

But she wasn’t going to let him have that.

“It’s awfully bold of you to assume such a thing, Mr. Styles.”

“Is it though?” He was still smirking and she felt her knees weaken even more as his tongue poked out to wet his pink lips. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure he would’ve heard it if it wasn’t for the loud music. Sweaty bodies kept bumping into the two of them on the overcrowded dance floor, which normally she couldn’t stand, but she was drunk. Very drunk and she was hungry and tired... and also in a huge need of a wee.

However, now Harry was standing in front of her.

So needless to say nothing else really mattered anymore.

His mere presence made her forget about all the people around them and suddenly her bladder didn’t seem so full after all. That’s the effect he had on her and he knew it. With his soft brown hair that curled so pretty at the tips, his smooth skin and green eyes; there was no way she wasn’t going home with him again tonight. He was the best thing she had ever laid her eyes on and he also wanted to take her home.

So who was she to say no?

“Yours then,” she replied and tried to not sound too eager. Harry squeezed her hips again as she finally confirmed they would indeed go home with one other again and pulled her even closer into him. His chest pressed against hers and she swore she could feel his heartbeat against hers.

“See that wasn’t so hard to say, was it?” She rolled her eyes as she noticed his smug grin and as much as it pained her to do; she pushed him off, pointing a finger into his chest.

“We’re stopping to buy fries on the way though... and you’re paying!”

Harry laughed and agreed, but not before adding; “I can give you something a lot better than fries once we get back.”

And well… she didn’t disagree.

-

She wasn’t entirely sure when this thing between the two of them started, or how it started even. It was just one of those things that happened one night. Harry first came into her life when her flatmate Louisa started dating his mate Tom during their first year of uni.

The first time she met him they didn’t really speak to each other. It had really just been a case of her admiring him from afar as he was approached by a handful of women at the student bar. She thought he was probably the prettiest guy she had ever laid her eyes on and thought to herself that he was just way too cool to ever notice her.

It was obvious from the start, by just watching him, that he had an aura around him that drew everyone in. People, both boys and girls, flooded around him wherever he went. He was always the center of attention and she understood why. Because not only was he the prettiest guy she had ever seen, he was also one of the nicest guys she had ever met. At first she had just assumed he’d be an arsehole because to be fair she had never really met a guy that got as much attention as him that wasn’t one.  

However, as Louias’s and Tom’s relationship grew more serious; the more all of them hung out and she started talking to him rather than just staring from afar. She got to know him and even though the two of them were quite different from each other, they still became good friends.

While she was more of a typical girly girl who enjoyed spending a little too much money on overpriced makeup palettes and listened to whatever songs were in the top list that week Harry was a little more into old school music, bringing up bands and songs she had never heard of before. He did all his shopping at different thrift shops. He wore weird shirts and painted his nails without caring what anyone else thought while she couldn’t even leave her house without checking with all her roommates at least three times if her outfit was okay. She loved scrolling through Instagram. Harry didn’t even have an account.

He was interesting, alluring and cool.

She just wasn’t any of that.

She wasn’t his type and he was simply just out of her league.

Until one night.

It was at the start of their third year at uni and they were out to celebrate their friend Jax’s birthday. To make a complicated story short, there had just been a ridiculous amount of alcohol consumed and when she told everyone she was leaving Harry stood up too and announced he’d come with her, and because everyone was so drunk, the two of them included, no one thought more about it.

They left the club together. Harry got them an Uber and when it stopped outside her house he got out as well.

Kisses were shared and clothes came off and the next day she thought she was still dreaming when Harry was right there next to her when she woke up. There was no awkwardness though as they shared a cup of tea and he made them a full English breakfast to cure their hangovers.

And then they did the same thing again next weekend and it kinda just became a thing. That was three months ago now and it was still nothing they really talked about. Which was fine; she didn’t really want to talk about it. Because what was she supposed to say? Whatever was going on between them was working and she didn’t want to complicate things.

She was fine with just waking up next to him every now and again. Especially now when the nights were getting colder it was just nice to have a warm body to snuggle up to.

It was an agreement that worked well for both of them, even if she did fancy him a little it wasn’t a full-blown crush and Harry kept calling her his friend so that’s what she also settled on calling herself. She knew she wasn’t the type of girl he usually went for and that somehow made it easier to keep her feelings for him platonic. He was too cool for her anyway.

This way she just didn’t have to swipe through tinder or chat some random guy up at the bar to get laid.

Louisa kept warning her that she was going to get her heart broken but it was just sex. Amazing sex. He made her feel like no other man ever had. Harry knew just how to work her and it made her lose her breath every single time. Her whole body was on fire anytime he touched her. She didn’t want to think about getting her heart broken.  

“What time is it?”

Harry’s raspy voice startled her out of her thoughts and his body vibrated against hers under the duvet as he chuckled at her reaction. His arm was slung over her waist loosely and she could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck, leaving goosebumps all over her skin.

“I dunno,” she whispered back and leaned into his touch a little more. The hair on his legs tickled her smoother ones and she could feel her skin sticking against his, but neither of them made any effort to move away from each other. It was still early though, that much she knew. The sun was barely shining in through the blinds in Harry’s bedroom.

“Hm,” he hummed and tightened his grip a little. “Can’t sleep?”

“Just thinking. “

“About…?”

“Nothing really.”

Harry hummed again but didn’t say anything else. They laid in silence while Harry circled his thumb over her stomach lightly. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. Just the two of them, tangled in each other’s naked bodies and the sheets. She could feel a hangover coming over her slowly. Her head felt heavy and throbbed painfully against the soft pillows. There was a glass of water on the bedside table tempting her but reaching out for it meant moving away from Harry and she was just way too comfortable to do so.

It wasn’t long until Harry’s soft snores filled the room again and his thumb stilled. She sighed deeply, sleep creeping over her too. They were friends. Friends that slept together and cuddled. Nothing else. Just friends.

… but she really could stay like this forever.

-

The next time she woke up Harry wasn’t next to her anymore and the room was a lot brighter. A weak whimper left her lips and she buried her face into the pillow; the sunlight too much for her sensitive eyes and raging headache, which only seemed to have gotten worse.

Blindly she reached out for the glass she’d spotted earlier, but instead of actually getting a hold of it it was knocked over. It landed on the floor with a soft thud and her eyes shot open at the sound. Glancing down she noticed that, thankfully, the glass hadn’t broken into a million pieces, but unfortunately there was water everywhere.

“Damn it,” she muttered and fell back, hiding her face in the pillow again. Stupid water. Stupid hangover. Stupid everything.

Her head was spinning and her body ached. This hangover was going to be rough and she cursed herself for letting Jax and Beth persuade her into taking all those shots the night before. She knew it was going to come back and bite her in the ass today. Stupid Jax. Stupid Beth. Stupid shots.

Outside the bedroom she could hear Harry roaming around in the kitchen, talking to his flatmate Isaac and every now and then he’d sing along to the music playing softly in the background. She relaxed as she listened to his voice. At least there was something good about this morning.

And it was enough to eventually get her out of bed.

She found her black underwear at the bottom of the bed and pulled them on, stepping around the water she had just spilled as she got out and made a mental note to herself to fix that mess later.

The black strap dress and oversized blazer from the night before were stern across the floor and she stared at them for a long time before deciding she wasn’t in the mood to put them back on at this time. Looking around the room she spotted something very familiar. The yellow jumper she always wore when she slept over was hung neatly over Harry’s chair by the desk, waiting for her, and she smiled to herself knowing he’d put it there for her to wear.

Always so considerate.

“Jesus, you look like absolute shit,” Isaac teased when she eventually emerged from the bedroom and into the kitchen “Wild night?”

“Fuck off,” she groaned and walked straight past him and over to the sink to pour herself a glass of water, downing it in pretty much one gulp. It spilled down her chin and onto the jumper, leaving a big wet stain, but she really couldn’t care less. Water had never tasted better.

“Ah, I’m just saying,” Isaac laughed. “You look like you got run over by a truck.”

“Feels like I was,” she admitted and slumped down on one of the chairs next to the kitchen counter. “Ugh, I’m never drinking again.”

“Ha! Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”

The kitchen was surprisingly cold and she regretted not stealing a pair of Harry’s sweatpants before leaving his warm comfy bedroom. She let her eyes wander over to him and felt her pulse pick up. Harry was standing shirtless in the kitchen, only dressed in his regular Nike sports shorts, and she just couldn’t stop herself from staring at his tattoos and toned chest. The same chest she’d left kisses all over just hours ago and it gave her goosebumps just thinking about. He had a spatula in one of his hands and a cup of coffee in the other. As always, he was perfect and she looked like a mess. Great.

Harry smirked as he caught her staring, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Do you want some breakfast?” he asked instead.

“Please.”

A minute later he placed a plate of eggs and some toast in front of her. The smell of it made her nauseous but she also knew that if she didn’t eat anything she was going to feel a lot worse soon. She’d much rather crawl back into Harry’s bed and maybe sleep for another hour or two, preferably with him beside her.

But now she had a plate of food in front of her that Harry had made and it would be rude to at least not try to eat some. So she ate in silence while listening to Harry tell Isaac about the previous night and slowly she realized that she had a few blackouts from the night.

Shit, how much did I drink?

She really shouldn’t have taken those shots. Her mother would have lectured her for hours if she knew about the heavy party nights that sometimes occurred, having a strong belief alcohol was indeed a gift from the devil himself. Alcohol and sugar. She had lost count of the number of books her mother had given her about healthy living and mindful thinking, and she was pretty sure she was getting another one for Christmas. Harry once found her hidden stash of books she’d put in the back of her closet and begged her for one. She happily gave it to him.

Harry would probably love her mother’s rants about the dangers of alcohol and unhealthy meals she thought to herself and almost rolled her eyes. She could picture it now; Harry and her mother sharing recipes with each other that claimed your life would be twenty years longer and ganging up on her about the lack of exercise she did. What a nightmare.

Yet, she had to ignore the warm feeling in her belly at the thought of Harry getting along with her mother.

“Alright well,” Isaac announced after a while and stood up. “I gotta get to work. Fuckin’ Jake called in sick so now I gotta cover his shift at the shop.”

“Sucks mate,” Harry replied while he shoved the last piece of his toast into his mouth. “At least you’re getting some extra cash.”

“Yeah yeah, something like that,” Isaac muttered as he dropped his dirty plate into the sink. “I’ll see you guys later. Hope you feel better party girl!”

She shot him a weak smile and a nod as a thank you. Her plate of food was still half full and the cup of tea Harry had also made for her was now cold. She just couldn’t force herself to eat more. Stupid shots.

“You really do look like you got run over by a truck,” Harry chuckled when Isaac was gone and she sent him a glare. “How much did you drink? Didn’t realize you were that drunk when we left.”

“I actually have no idea. I think Jax and Beth might have poisoned me.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “That explains it.”

“Mm.“

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No, that’s okay” she told him. “Kinda just wanna go back to bed if I’m honest.”

“‘S your lucky day then,” Harry said and rose to his feet, offering his hand out to her. “Let’s go.”

She could have cried out of happiness when she finally crawled back into Harry’s comfortable bed. The sheets had never been more comforting as she pulled them up to her chin and made herself into a little cocoon. She never wanted to leave his bed ever again. “You are ridiculous.”

She peeked out at him from under the duvet and noticed him smiling down at her fondly, but his smile soon turned into a small frown. “Is that water all over the floor?”

“Oh yeah... that was me. Sorry,” she pouted.

“I repeat, you are ridiculous,” he rolled his eyes but she also knew he wasn’t upset when she noticed his little dimple.

He quickly cleaned up the mess she had created earlier and then jumped up to join her. The bed shook as he landed and she groaned as another wave of nausea washed over her. But having him next to her again made her forget all about it. He smelled so good. How did he always smell so good?

She rested her head on his shoulder as he pulled up his laptop and signed onto his Netflix account, picking the first random movie that caught his interest.

And that’s how the two of them spent the next few hours. Just laying in bed together watching random movies on Netflix with her dozing in and out of sleep for most of the time. Harry kept running his fingers through her hair, gently scratching the top of her head and it was probably the most soothing thing she had ever experienced.

Eventually, she started feeling better but made no effort to move or get up.

Not until he did.

“I’m gonna take a shower quickly,” he announced as the third movie finished. She followed him with her gaze as he got up and pulled out a pair of fresh boxers out of his drawer. Her heart beat a little extra. “You can watch something else if you want.”

“Thanks. Are you doing something later or?” she asked casually and pulled his computer onto her lap.

“Yeah, uh, I forgot I have a date actually.”

She’s pretty sure she forgot how to breathe then.

A date.

Harry had a date.

“Oh... “ is all she managed to say. Her mouth felt as dry as it did when she woke up earlier that morning and she racked her brain for something else to say. Unfortunately there was nothing. Harry stopped and looked at her.

“Is - I mean...  um, is that okay?”

“What?”

She felt stupid. So utterly stupid but she just couldn’t find the words to speak. She felt weird, even though she knew he was technically only her friend and she knew they were not even close to being exclusive. But Harry was going on a date. Like a proper date. Not just hooking up after a night out. A date. With someone else.

“Are you okay with me going on a date... ?” he asked slowly, inspecting her closely and that’s when she realized she needed to say something fast.

“Yeah, no, of course!” she tried to laugh but it was more of a strange cackle coming out of her mouth rather than a laugh. Harry eyed her for another minute and she sat up. Her palms were sweaty and her cheeks hot. She felt like a bigger mess now than she had all morning. “Harry, we’re friends. Why would I care if you go on a date?”

Harry looked at her a bit startled.

“Well, because we-”

“I’m fine,” she interrupted before he could finish and cursed herself yet again for being so fucking weird. They were friends. She had no reason to not be okay with it. She knew she wasn’t his type. Of course he was going on a date with someone else. She knew this and she needed to get herself together before he wanted to talk about something related to the two of them and make things complicated. The thing between them wasn’t something they ever talked about and she refused to start doing it now. “I’m excited for you even,” she shot him the biggest fake smile she could muster. “Who is she?”

What a stupid question.

“Uh, a friend of Matt’s or something like that,” he shrugged, but he looked at her with uncertainty written all across his face; almost like he didn’t believe a single word she was saying.  “I don’t know really. He set us up.”

“Cool.”

“Cool... ?”

Suddenly she doesn’t want to be in his bed anymore. For the very first time, she felt awkward sitting in front of him.

“Yeah, cool.”

“Oookay.”

Silence.

It’s uncomfortable and she knew she messed this up. Both of them were frozen in place and she had to look away from him before it was all too much. She was so aware of how her cheeks had turned into a deep color of red and she felt nauseous, only this time she knew it was not from the alcohol.

“I’m just,” Harry coughed in an attempt to break the heavy tension and she wanted nothing more than to disappear.  “I’m gonna go take that shower.” He pointed awkwardly towards the door.

“Yeah, uh,” she said and tried her absolute hardest to get herself back together. To act normal. “I’m going to head home anyways I think.”

“No, you don’t-”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted him again. “Beth wanted to have pizza night and I should stop being such a lazy ass anyways. I have some studying to do before my lecture tomorrow too, soo... yeah, gonna head home.”

Harry looked at her for a moment, scanning her face after any other sign that something was wrong, but she managed to keep it together and he nodded.

“Alright, well I’ll see you around yeah?”

“Of course.”

When he left the room she let out a breath she’d been holding ever since Harry first mentioned the word ‘date’. She also realized she did not like the way she just reacted and that maybe, very possibly, Lou might have been right.

She was fucked.

-

For the next few days she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry and his date. She wished she could go back in time and take back everything she said; wished she would have reacted differently. It was hard to think about anything else and all she wanted to do was to go and see him and ask him all about it. How did it go? Was she nice? What did they do? Was he going to see her again? Did they kiss?

And if she hadn’t been so embarrassed about her behaviour she probably would've done so, but she had no explanation as to why she’d been so weird and she was too scared to go deeper into her own feelings and find one. So as much as she wanted to see him she was also extremely terrified to do so.

But it was really eating her up.

She couldn’t focus on anything else.

And it was strange.

Before all this, she was sure of her feelings towards Harry. Sure he was attractive, he was nice and he made her laugh, but she thought she’d managed to keep it platonic. Now she just felt weird. Everything about their arrangement felt weird, and she didn’t know what to do. Deep down she knew there wasn’t much she could actually do about it. He went on a date and she was his friend. Friends with benefits. They weren’t anything exclusive. He hadn’t done anything wrong. She told him so herself.

Still, something felt wrong.

On Thursday night their whole gang made plans to meet up for their regular quiz night down at the pub and she stood in front of her mirror for an hour, preparing herself to see him again. She changed her outfit five times and rehearsed what to say when she saw him over and over again.

Only for him to not show up.

So instead of being squished into his side all night, she was stuck between Jax and Louisa and she found herself missing him. She didn’t even have to ask to know he was on another date, yet when Isaac confirmed it later she felt her heart drop down to her stomach.

Louisa glanced over at her when Isaac told them and she forced a smile, not ready to let anyone know about the weird feeling in her chest. Louisa also tried to bring it up on their way home, but she brushed it off with the same thing she always did.

“We’re just friends.”

But once she was home in bed it was harder to act like nothing was troubling her. Harry was out on another date and it shouldn’t be bothering her but it did. It bothered her a lot. He should’ve been right there with her, laughing along at their friends' jokes all night and then suggest coming back home with her.

Now he just wasn't and it felt wrong. It was only three months ago that he came home with her for the first time but somehow it wasn’t until now she realized that she may have gotten a little too used to it.

It was so stupid the whole thing. Like ridiculously so.

She knew from the first night that she would never be more than a few drunken nights to him. That his touch wasn’t hers to keep. It belonged to someone else. So why did it feel so weird now?

On Friday night, Beth invited a few people over from uni to their place for a game night and some wine. She joined them but decided to stay away from the wine. They played monopoly for most of the evening while gossiping about everyone they knew. It was nice. It was fun. She won at monopoly. But most importantly it helped her to not worry about what Harry was doing or who he was seeing. It felt like her brain got a long awaited break from everything and she slept better that night than she had all week.

It was on Saturday it all came crashing down.

They were all going out. The whole gang. As always everyone had shown up for pre-drinks at the house she shared with Louisa, Beth and Aliyah as it was the biggest one. Jax had as usual brought along a bottle of Fireball that he forced everyone take a shot out of. Beth refused to let anyone else control the music. Tom and Louisa were loved up on the sofa together. Isaac was in the kitchen mixing drinks for everyone while Aliyah complained about Beth’s choice of music. All in all it was a pretty typical Saturday night and it was all going well.

Until Harry showed up. With a girl.

She almost dropped her drink when she saw them and everyone in the room turned to look at her when they entered. Once again she had to force a smile to assure them she didn't care and more than ever before she tried to ignore the way her heart sank inside her chest.

And for some very odd reason; she was the first to stand up and greet Harry’s new lady friend. Maybe because everyone was looking at her and it felt like they were just waiting for her to start crying in front of everyone. She didn’t want their pity so she stood and shook this new girl’s hand, acting like everything was completely fine.

“Cleo,” the girl introduced herself with a cheery smile.

And that was about it.

After that she didn’t really talk to her anymore. That’s something she left for the rest of the group to do.

It was hard to concentrate on anything else for the rest of the evening and despite promising herself to not take a shot from Jax’s bottle of Fireball; she had three. The alcohol was warm as it made its way down her throat and she noticed Louisa watching her with worried eyes.

And Harry? She couldn’t even look at him. He tried to talk to her and start a conversation at one point but it felt like her brain was about to explode from anxiety so she quickly excused herself and hid in the bathroom for a good twenty minutes.

She tried her very best to be engaged in the conversations around her and she tried so hard to have a good time. Just like she had the night before. But with Harry right there with Cleo it was fucking impossible and she felt like a green little goblin watching the new pair.

Cleo was pretty much everything she expected her to be and more. She just couldn’t stop staring at them. Harry had a hand on her thigh and she was so polite to everyone. Just like him. She had tasteful tattoos all over and it was almost like the two of them had coordinated their outfits before coming over. Both dressed in checkered prints and matching colors of pink and red. She felt so stupid in her boring and basic black jumpsuit and her dull eye make-up.

Cleo was so effortlessly pretty and she just wasn’t.

It was a slap in the face just how right they looked together.

And it just got worse when they arrived at the club because under the flashing lights on the dance floor she saw how Harry leaned in and kissed Cleo. One of his hands was low on her back while the other caressed her face. Everything was spinning as she watched them kiss she knew it was not only because of the alcohol in her veins.

It hit her hard. Because a small, a very small, and naive part of her thought that maybe he’d still want to go home with her and not Cleo. But as she watched him kiss Cleo the way he used to kiss her ruined all hope she had ridiculously built up.

And maybe it wasn’t the kiss itself that hurt so much but more the fact that Harry was now with someone else and it was real. It was so bloody real.  Just last week it was her and now he was kissing Cleo and had barely looked in her direction all night. And even though he technically hadn’t done anything wrong it still hurt and she was angry. Angry with him for kissing someone else, but mostly at herself for still wanting him. For wanting to walk right up and pull him away and take him home. She still wanted him despite everything, but she couldn’t have him.

So instead she had some tequila.

Except, tequila probably wasn’t the best company because in the wee hours of the night she regretted every single shot she had taken. The alcohol in her body made her stomach turn heavily and it was a miracle she even made it into a bathroom stall before it all came back up. Someone on the other side of the stall asked if she was okay but she could barely hear them over the loud buzzing in her ears and her own gagging.

It took her several minutes before she found the strength to get back up on her feet, brushing away the dirt from her jumpsuit, trying desperately not to think about all the germs she had most likely caught from resting so long against a public toilet seat.

As she exited the stall another girl looked over and she didn’t even try to pretend like she hadn’t just been throwing her guts up minutes ago. Instead, she splashed some cold water on her face and took a steady grip of the sink to keep herself standing up.

Fuck.

When she stumbled out of the bathroom a while later she had to lean against the walls to not fall over. The dim lighting in the club made it even harder for her to see where she was going and she kept bumping into bodies as she eventually made her way through the crowd.

Then all of a sudden someone grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Heeeey, party-girl, are you okay?”

The buzzing was still loud in her ears and her vision was blurry, but she still somehow managed to recognize the voice and the striking blonde hair. Isaac. As soon as she knew it wasn’t a complete stranger that had grabbed her she fell into him without a warning and he stumbled a little as he tried to catch her body. “Woah, steady on.”

She tried to talk to him. Tried to explain how she got to this point but no coherent words were coming out of her mouth and she had to use his whole body for support. He wrapped an arm around her and hoisted her up a little before taking a hold of her chin so he could get a good look of her face. She could tell that he was talking to her, his mouth was moving, but she had no idea what he was actually saying. It was too loud and she was too drunk. The club atmosphere made her stomach turn once more and all she wanted to do was to get out of there before she was sick all over again.

And somehow she managed to communicate that to Isaac.

The air was cool and refreshing when they finally made it out of the club and she was clinging onto Isaac as if her life depended on him. He had a strong arm wrapped around her as he pulled out his phone with his other hand to get an Uber. As they waited for it to show up Isaac slowly guided her over and sat her down on the curb next to the road. He crouched down in front of her and took a hold of her chin again. That’s when the first tears fell. She didn’t even try to hide it, once again too drunk and too sad to care if Isaac saw that she was crying.  His eyes widened as he noticed.

“Heey, noooo, no, don’t cry. What’s wrong?”

She didn’t know what to tell him. Everything was spinning too much to be able to think of what to say. The alcohol and emotions had taken over all of her senses and it was all just too much. There was only one explanation for her behavior tonight after all and how would she even begin to explain it to him? She had no idea. So all she said was

“Cleo.”

Isaac didn’t say anything in response but she was pretty sure he knew exactly what it meant when he reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Nothing more was said as they waited for the Uber to show up and the last thing she remembered was crying about not having the key for her house.

-

The next morning was arguably the worst morning of her life, which seemed quite fitting as she’d had the worst evening of her life the previous night. Most of the morning was spent on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, head first down the toilet, regretting every single decision from last night.

This time though it was all her own fault. There was no one else to blame for all the shots she downed but herself.

It was embarrassing. So so embarrassing how drunk she got and how much Isaac had to take care of her. He had brought her back to his and Harry’s shared flat after they couldn’t find her key and realized she was locked out from her own home. She cried her eyes out in the Uber while Isaac tried to comfort her and when they got out she almost got vomit all over his new sneakers.

However, Isaac was nice about it all. He didn’t say anything and just helped her inside, put her down on the sofa, made sure she drank some water and covered her with a blanket. She couldn’t remember exactly what she told him but she knew she had talked about Harry and it was killing her.

But Isaac continued to be nice and he didn’t bring it up when he wandered in and said good morning.

“Y’alright?”

“I feel like death,” she confessed and her throat hurt a little from being sick all last night and earlier that morning.  Isaac chuckled lightly.

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

She bit the bottom of her lip and struggled to look at him where he sat on the armchair opposite the sofa she was spread out over. She had known him for as long as she had known Harry, but she had never actually been alone with him in a room and now when she was sober she felt so stupid, and also so incredibly self-conscious because she knew her make-up from last night was smudged all over her face and she had vomit on her jumpsuit and all over her hair. It was the lowest she’d ever been.

“So um,” she grumbled. “Thanks for last night, eh... yeah, I don’t know. I’m sorry for being a mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Isaac waved it off and smiled at her. “We’ve all been there.”

“Yeah, well, thank you anyway.” She still couldn’t look at him as she spoke. Because he knew. He knew her feelings for Harry had changed and she didn’t know how to act now.

“So much for never drinking again huh?” he joked lightly to ease the mood and she forced a laugh.

“Yeah, didn’t stick to that one, did I?”

Silence fell between them after that, but in some ways, it was a comfortable one. Isaac sat in his chair and scrolled through his phone as he drank his morning coffee while she just laid on the sofa and tried to collect her mind and emotions. He offered to make breakfast but there was just no way she was going to be able to stomach it. Water was pretty much all that her stomach allowed and she was barely holding onto that. It was early still and she could tell it was raining heavily outside as the raindrops drummed heavily against the windows. It was comfortable though. Pleasant even.

And then, out of nowhere, Cleo emerged from Harry’s bedroom and all the emotions from last night washed over her like a tsunami.

Plus, it felt like someone was playing a practical joke on her when she saw that Cleo was wearing Harry’s shirt from the night before.

“Good morning!” Cleo was as cheery as she was last night and looked even better. Issac nodded and greeted Cleo politely. To make things worse Cleo sat down in the other armchair and started a conversation. Time stopped as she watched Cleo and Isaac talk and it felt like someone suffocated her with one of the pillows. “Did you guys have a good night then?”

She couldn’t take her eyes off Cleo, who looked perfect even after a night out. Her hair was still flawless and her skin looked like it was glowing. It wasn’t ideal for anyone to see or be next to Cleo when they woke up after a chaotic night out and they themselves were covered in vomit. It honestly made her more nauseous than her hangover had all morning and she’d probably never felt as ugly as she did in that moment laying next to Cleo.

“It was decent, yeah,” Isaac said and then looked at her. His eyes filled with pity and she hated it. She hated it so much. “You?”

“It was super fun,” Cleo answered with a big smile. “Harry and I got in sooooo late though. We stopped to get some food down at that kebab place around the corner before we got in and I swear to God it was the best food I’ve had in my life! Thanks for letting me come out with you guys.”

And just like that, it was all too much. There was just no way she could sit there and talk to the girl who was dating the boy she had come to realize she liked more than just a friend. There was a lot she could do and put up with, but that wasn’t one of those things.

“Um, excuse me,” she mumbled as she got up from the sofa. Isaac called out her name but she ignored it. Her whole body ached and her head felt heavy. She had no idea how she was actually going to make it home in this state but she’d try her damn hardest, even if she was sick along the way it would be better than staying here.

Then she heard her name being called again.  

This time however it was from someone else.

Someone whose voice she’d recognize anywhere.

Harry.

“What are you doing here?” He looked at her with furrowed brows, clearly not expecting to see her.

“Oh, eh, hey,” she managed to croak out and fought back the urge to be sick all over again. “I came back with Isaac last night.”

“You uh, you came back with Isaac?” Harry asked slowly, his eyes never leaving her as a small line formed between his brows. He opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it just as fast. The silence that fell between them then was defeating.

“I mean, I wasn’t feeling very well so he helped me out a little.”

“Oh, okay,” he nodded and the corner of his mouth twisted into a small smile, but then it faltered just as fast. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”  She knew she was being short with him and the look he gave her burned into her skin, but with tears threatening to fall at any moment it was a conversation she really didn’t want to have. Not with him. Not right now. “Look, Harry, I gotta go.”

“What?” he said and pushed himself off the door frame he leaned against, and as he came closer she took a step back. “You’re more than welcome to stay. It’s so early still and by the sounds of it it’s bucketing down outside. Stay for some breakfast. I was gonna make some pancakes.”

“I have to go.”

“Wait,” he called after her when she turned her back to him and got ready to leave. “Hey, wait a minute!”

She didn’t really care at that point though. Whatever thing she and Harry had was already gone and there was nothing that could make things worse than what they were now. She just wanted to get out and get as far away from him as fast as possible.

So she left without saying another word to Harry despite him calling her name.

- “Harry’s a fucking prick anyways,” Aliyah began and threw her hands up dramatically. “Like, is he just going to sleep with you one week and then replace you next week? No, fuck that. You deserve better.”

“He did tell me about it though,” she noted with a small sniffle and curled up further under her blanket. “I mean, he did tell me he was going on a date so it’s not like he lied or I don’t know... went behind my back.”

“Yeah, well, he’s still a prick,” Aliyah grumbled and slumped back against the sofa, arms crossed over her chest.

“Besides, we’re just friends, you know... ”

“You’re clearly more than just friends though,” Louisa added carefully with knowing eyes. “Like, I hate to break it to you but it’s pretty obvious you like him.”

“I... “ she trailed off not knowing how to respond to that. Because she knew she couldn’t keep denying it anymore. Not after showing up at her own house, drenched from the rain with red puffy eyes in last night’s clothes and without a key. No matter how scary it was to admit what she had buried inside her heart for so long it was impossible to deny it any longer. “Yeah. I do. I do like him.”

She let out a huge breath as she finally admitted it. It was strange, but also so right. The feelings she had for Harry was something she had buried inside for so long and it was freeing almost to now admit it out loud in front of her best friends.

“Maybe you should tell him that?” Beth suggested.

She almost laughed.

“That’s definitely not happening,” she shut down the suggestion straight away. There was no way she was telling him how she felt. Especially not now. “He obviously doesn't like me back, and besides he has Cleo now, and you know.. he’s like actually dating her and stuff so…”

“So what?” Beth cut in. “He might like you too. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Me?” she scoffed. “Yeah, I highly doubt that.”

Beth shrugged.

“I don’t know. I think he might do.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter anymore does it? He has Cleo now.”

“You won’t know unless you ask,” Louisa pointed out with a small twinkle in her eyes. Before she had the chance to object to the faulty statement the sound of the doorbell ringing echoed through the house.

“That’s probably the food,” Beth announced and stood up swiftly. “I’ll go get it.”

She gave Beth a small smile and wiped her wet cheeks with the ends of her blanket. As soon as she had left Harry’s flat earlier that morning she broke down in tears and called Louisa who offered to come to pick her up straight away but she declined, needing some time for herself before facing anyone.

But after showing up a mess, drenched from the rain in last night’s clothes after walking all the way home it was clear that she needed all her friends today. So Aliyah ran her a bath while Beth ordered food and Louisa went out for snacks and her favorite drink.

And she couldn’t be more grateful.

“Uhm,” Beth popped her head back in the living room and it was obvious by the look on Beth’s face that something was off. “It’s Harry.”

“W-what?”

For a moment she thought that maybe Beth was just taking the piss but judging by the confusion spreading across the room she quickly realized that wasn’t the case. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

“You sure?” Louisa asked. “This might be the perfect opportunity to talk things through.”

“No,” she shook her head quickly. “I can’t. Not now.”

“I’ll go talk to him!” Aliyah announced with fire in her eyes and leaped off the sofa in one go, only to have Beth stop her in the doorway.

“I think maybe I should talk to him,” she offered and looked at Aliyah with both her eyebrows raised knowingly. Aliyah only mumbled something under her breath but accepted Beth’s proposal and returned to her spot on the sofa without a fuss.

“You okay?” Louisa asked when Beth disappeared again to go talk to the boy who had her heart aching so badly. Louisa reached out to squeeze her knee gently when she didn’t respond. She just didn't know what to say; because she wasn’t okay. She was very much far from okay today.

Tears welled up in her eyes for the hundredth time and she shook her head and attempted to blink her tears away. She didn’t want to cry anymore. Louisa sighed and pulled her closer and wrapped her arms around her in a long hug. It was embarrassing really how much she had cried all day but she just couldn't stop. Never in a million years did she think she’d ever get so upset over a guy.

But it was Harry.

Harry who left jumpers out for her to wear after she stayed at his flat. Harry who made her breakfast in the morning and knew exactly how she liked her tea. Harry who made her laugh until she couldn’t breathe anymore. Harry who rubbed her back after a night out. Harry who let her steal all of the duvet in her sleep even though he was cold too. Harry who texted her stupid jokes just because he knew she liked them. Harry who also texted her cute pictures of puppies because she loved dogs. Harry who made her feel like no man ever had.

Harry who was now with Cleo.

Cleo who was absolutely perfect for him. Cleo who probably went thrift shopping with him and helped him find silly shirts with crazy prints and knew about all the bands he always talked about.

Cleo who was just so much better than her.

-

Harry Styles 8:27 AM Heeeyyy are you mad at me?

Harry Styles 10:12 AM Hello?

Harry Styles 10:46 AM Ok so mad then? will you pls talk to me? don’t like the way you stormed off earlier :/

Harry Styles 12:01 PM Hellloooooooo? pls talk to me

Harry Styles 12:30 PM Isaac told me you were quite upset last night... did something happen?  

Harry Styles 12:56 PM You’re making me a bit worried, did you make it home okay?

Harry Styles 1:15 PM I tried calling a few times but it’s not really coming through.. Are you okay?

Harry Styles 2:49 PM I'm coming over

Harry Styles 4:37 PM Beth said you weren’t feeling so well,  I hope you feel better soon, make sure you drink loads of water! .xx

Harry Styles 11:26 PM Ok sooo, i dunno whats going on. i dunno if Beth lied to me today or not... i just hope you're okay. you know you can talk to me if something is bothering you right?

Goodnight .xxx

-

PART 2 ♡

Let me know your thoughts. Thank you for reading! <3 

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, everybirdfellsilent!

Happy belated Birthday, @everybirdfellsilent​! Apologies once again for all the mix-ups and confusion with your gift! I hope you had a truly wonderful day back when it actually was your birthday, and that it was much more orderly than this! To bring the party feels back, @ally147writes​ has emerged from everlark retirement to write a birthday gift just for you!

AN: Let me tell you, @everybirdfellsilent​, I agonised over the ending. This was the neatest and tidiest I could make it without writing you a novel. I hope it makes you chuckle a little.

Also a good time to let the audience know that I cannot write horror, or ghost stories, but dang it, I can write borderline crack, and I wanted to write Buzzfeed Unsolved-inspired ghosthunter!everlark so damn much.

Unbeta’d, because that’s how I roll.

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

The old Undersee mansion doesn’t look haunted.

 Not that that really means anything. Most of the houses they’ve visited over the years haven’t looked haunted. They’ve been completely normal — except for that one in District Ten that had some kind of summoning circle in the basement (Peeta will die hoping it was drawn with red paint, a super weird kid’s project, but he’s got a feeling he’ll be dying disappointed. And extremely terrified) — with completely normal gardens in completely normal streets.

 So, no. Like most, the old Undersee mansion doesn’t look haunted, but it definitely feels haunted.

Peeta pauses at the bottom of the winding path. At its end, atop a small hill, the innocuous house sits empty, Madge and her family out for the next few nights while he and Katniss investigate. It’s as normal looking as any of the other exorbitantly large mansions on the street, but the longer Peeta stares down the deceptively cheerful, sunshine-yellow door, a deep, intense foreboding settles in his gut and ferments there.

 He swallows. “Uh, Kat?”

 Katniss sighs and stops at the first step to the porch, and Peeta swears he can hear her eyes rolling. Hard. “What is it, Peeta?”

  “I just… I got a real bad feeling about this one.”

 “Peeta,” she starts, mounting the first step, “you’ve had real bad feelings about all of them so far. And you’ve been wrong every time.”

 “No,” he replies quickly, following behind in the relative safety of her shadow. “You’ve just chosen to deny whatever proof we do find.”

 “A battery running out in our flashlight does not mean ghosts were playing with it.”

 “It ran out at the exact moment I told the spirits to turn it off!”

 “I don’t know how else to tell you that was a coincidence. The flashlight had been on for a good two hours by that point.”

 “A little convenient, don’t you think? Come on, Katniss. Plus, it turned right back on again when we were done, so the battery can’t have been that damn flat.”

 “I can’t understand why you’re so eager for this all to be the work of ghosts when it scares you shitless every single time.”

 “What about the time the spirit box said your name?”

 “Peeta,” she says with a strained laugh. “It said, Can’t Miss. As in, the District 12 Mockingjays Can’t Miss. It was a snippet of a goddamn basketball ad. It’s on the radio all the time on game days.”

 “Yeah, and the spirit box allows ghosts to use radio waves to communicate. Of course it wasn’t going to find Katniss — who the hell’s advertising katniss? — so it picked the next best thing.”

 “I’ll just sit here and wait for them to use a snippet of a pita bread company ad to talk to you, then.”

 He glares at the back of her head. “I’m sure they would, if there was a pita factory nearby that advertised.”

 She rolls her eyes. “Come on, Peeta. Let’s go find you a ghost.” She lifts a camera to her eyes and kicks the heavy mahogany door open and flicks on the gently swinging chandelier light.

 “Ghosts, spirits, urban legends and other assorted demonic entities, how are we all this evening?”

 “Katniss,” he hisses as he closes the door. “Some respect, maybe?”

 “What part was disrespectful? I covered, well, maybe not the full the spectrum of possible occupants, but definitely most of them, and asked how they were. Honestly if they’re not going to reply, they’re the disrespectful ones, not me.”

 The light flickers out. Katniss snorts. Peeta lets out a squeak he’s not proud of.

 “She doesn’t mean it,” Peeta calls frantically. “For the love of God, she doesn’t mean it. I’m sure you’re all lovely and polite.”

 The light flickers weakly and comes back on. The chandelier fitting swings like a pendulum, casting stretching and receding shadows over the white-sheet covered lounges and a thick, dark coffee table.

 “What the hell do you call that, Katniss?”

 “Shoddy wiring?” She shrugs. “Peeta, this house is about a century old. Probably more, actually.”

 “Madge said it was renovated and rewired two years ago.”

 She shrugs again. “Rats? Raccoons, maybe? That would explain the supposedly unexplainable shuffling sounds Madge thinks she hears.”

 Now he rolls his eyes. “Why am I married to you, again?”

 “Because divorce is costly and time consuming,” she says, kissing his cheek. “Besides, my logic goes well with your fatalistic romanticism.”

 “None of that’s going to matter when this house goes all Poltergeist and swallows us.”

 “Then what a good thing it is that that’s never going to happen.” She plonks herself down on one of the lounges and sets a pair of small motion-sensing cameras pointing at each entrance. Peeta swallows and hitches a thumb towards the kitchen.

 “I’m… uh, gonna look around for a bit.”

 “All right,” Katniss says absently. “Scream if you need me.”

 “Will do.”

 That dread in his stomach recedes and grows with each room he enters. He doesn’t feel anything wrong with the kitchen, or the dining room, but as he ventures up the staircase to the bedrooms, he swears he can feel something weighty on his shoulders.

 A sound like a dry, rattling whisper like nails on paper echoes through the long hall leading to the attic entrance. Peeta gulps. “Hello?” He thumbs open the recording app on his phone and turns it on. “Is anyone there?”

 The whispering sound grows. It doesn’t sound like words, exactly. At least, not words that he knows. They race up and along his spine until it sounds like they’re shouting in his ear.

 Peeta squeaks, jumps about a foot in the air, and something skitters past, too fast to see. A wave of cold washes over him, settling in icicles on his bones, and for a moment he stands stock still, not even breathing…

 Another whisper, one that sounds very, unnervingly close to hello, and he sprints back down the stairs to the living room, triggering the motion sensors into a high-pitched beeping sound.

 Katniss bolts upright. “What the hell is going on?”

 “Kat, were you… God, were you sleeping?” he asks, aghast.

 “What? It’s boring down here.” She blinks blearily up at him. “Are you okay?”

 “There… there’s something up there.”

 “Something as in actually something? Or something like your imagination run wild?”

 “Something like… it was making the strangest whispery, scratchy noises. I thought they were words, but… and then, something just… ran right past me. I didn’t see, but it was so so fast, and I —”

 “Peeta, it’s probably vermin. And the wind. And just… a bit of everything coming together to make you think it’s ghosts when it’s… just, not.”

 But his hands are shaking, and his pulse is more like one long thud instead of lots of little ones. “I just… I don’t…”

 She rolls her eyes. “Would it make you feel better if I went and checked? You can stay here with these stupid motion sensors; they’re only picking up bugs, anyway.”

 “No. No, I’ll go with you,” he says, setting a fist against his chest like that’ll do any good against his heart’s very valiant escape attempt. “Just in case.”

 “Right,” she drawls, “just in case the wind gets me.”

 He follows a step behind her, through the kitchen, down the corridor, and up the stairs. He doesn’t feel quite as heavy this, time, either. She cracks open every door they pass, six unused bedrooms, three bathrooms, two studys, and a small library, all silent. They’re left with one room at the very end. As she opens the final door, the whispering starts again, and a low moan like racing wind echoes.

 She steps in, and he turns on the light. The room is huge, but full. A writing desk sits in the far corner, and a neatly-made four-poster bed occupies the other corner. Beside the door, a seated vanity with a wide, oval mirror wiped free of dust. On its table, a collection of large and small hairbrushes, and an open box filled with tangled threads and needles and buttons and snippets of fabric. But none of those things holds Peeta’s focus for long.

 Instead, he stares at a wide cabinet spanning nearly the whole length of the back wall, covered so densely in dolls of every conceivable material, fabric and wool, porcelain and plastic. The whispering is almost deafening, and every time Peeta turns his head to look somewhere else, he could swear the dolls are twitching, blinking, watching.

 “Did, uh, Madge ever mention the doll collection?”

 Katniss scowls at the dolls. “She might’ve? I don’t really remember.”

 “Oh, I don’t think you would have forgotten something like this,” Peeta retorts.

 “I… well, yeah, this is definitely weird, but I don’t think we can call it haunted, or otherworldly.”

 “What the hell else would you call it?”

 “Any number of perfectly reasonable and logical things, Peeta. Mrs. Undersee likes weird, creepy dolls; what more can you say?”

 “Don’t call them weird and creepy.” He sets a finger against her lips. “I’ve read about haunted dolls. If you’re not respectful, they might curse you.”

 She rolls her eyes, but nods all the same. He doesn’t take his eyes off hers as he lowers his finger and shoves his hands in his pockets.

 He turns back to the dolls, and clears his throat. “Uh, we mean no harm or anything. It’s just… you’ve kind of been terrifying my friend and her parents, and we’d like you to please stop. Please.”

 Katniss whispers, “You already said please.”

 “Can’t hurt to say it twice.”

 “Did you bring the, uh… the thing? You know, the thing that reads the waves or whatever it was?”

 He shoots her a dour look. “You mean the EMF?”

 “Yeah, that. Do you have it?”

 “No, I don’t.” He sighs. “It would have been in the pack with the motion sensors, so it’s still downstairs.”

 “Spirit box?”

 “In the pack, too.”

 She surveys him strangely, arms crossed over her chest. “You really didn’t come prepared, did you?”

 “I was prepared! I just… didn’t think I’d be accosted in the very first hallway I went into.”

 She snorts. “Yeah, well, maybe next time you’ll think —” She stops, freezes, eyes riveted on something Peeta can’t see. His heart thumps harder and louder than he’s ever felt before.

 “Uh, Katniss? Is something wrong.”

 “Peeta,” she says, deadpan.

 “What?”

 “Look over there, in the gap between the cabinet and the desk. See that?”

 He does see that. He backs up so hard he’s going to have a massive bruise on his ass from the vanity he’s just about knocked over. “Holy shi — Are those… are those eyes?”

 “Yeah, they’re eyes. You wanna know what kind of eyes?” She picks up a hairbrush from the vanity stand next to them and hurls it at the gap.

 “Goddamn raccoon eyes, Peeta,” she says as the small pack of raccoons scatter. “There’s probably holes in the drywall or something, hence your scratchy whispers.”

 “I… oh.”

 “Yeah, oh. Raccoons, Peeta. Ninety-five percent of the time, it’s probably rats or raccoons.”

 “It wasn’t rats or raccoons in that place in District 10.”

 “That… was an outlier of a house, I’ll give you that, but it was probably still just people. Very strange, very creepy people.” She nudges him gently with her elbow and cocks her head to the door. “Come on, we should try and see if we can find the holes they were coming in through.”

 “You want to do home repairs?”

 “Hey, we promised Madge an exorcism, didn’t we? This is just a different kind of exorcism.”

 She hooks her arm in his, and they leave the doll room together. A sound like bye follows them out, but this time he can ignore it. Raccoons. Obviously.

 “Why do you come with me to these things?” he asks when they reach the bottom of the stairs.

 “Peeta,” she says seriously. “Know that I say this with all the love in my heart… you would die if I didn’t come with you.”

 “If I did die, I would so mercilessly haunt your ass.”

 She pats his arm, shakes her head. “No, you wouldn’t, Peeta. Ghosts aren’t real.”

[lesdemonium]

romtober day 4: dream dismissal

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 2815 Summary: Jaskier is given the opportunity of a lifetime--the chance to tour with the Priscilla. He has to decide if he wants to take the opportunity, or stay with Geralt and Ciri.

Author’s Note: i am a SCRUB who forgot to mention on my post yesterday (for grand gesture) that @valdomarx gave me the idea for that fic! i have updated it on ao3 to give rightful credit, but didn’t want the credit to get buried on tumblr. thank you so much!!

read on ao3

“We could do long distance, couldn’t we?”

The room was dark, and Geralt was almost startled by Jaskier interrupting the silence. Almost. He had expected Jaskier to continue the conversation from earlier. Jaskier was not going to be able to sleep unless he emptied his head of at least some of the thoughts bouncing around and demanding they be heard. Geralt just wished he had done it a little sooner.

“Is this a lights on conversation?” Geralt asked. He didn’t roll over to face his boyfriend just yet, but he did scoot himself up just a little, ready to reach out and turn the switch.

“No, no,” Jaskier said, and Geralt could picture him shaking his head, as if he was completely sure. “It’ll be quick, promise. I’ll let you sleep. Just. We could do it, right?”

Geralt rolled over to find Jaskier sitting up completely. Had he ever laid down? Probably not. Geralt propped his head up on his crooked elbow. He was going to regret not turning on the light, he was sure, but he didn’t want to waste time arguing with Jaskier over something so trivial. Not when this conversation was more important.

“Of course we could. There’s a lot of different ways this could go, but us breaking up so you can leave isn’t one of them,” Geralt answered.

Jaskier’s shoulders remained tense. Geralt stretched out a hand and laid it over Jaskier’s, intertwining their fingers. Still tense, but now at least Jaskier was smiling, just a little.

“No? It wouldn’t be too much?” Jaskier asked. “I’d be gone for months, Geralt. And in different timezones. We’re not used to being away from each other that long, and what if we can’t even talk for days?”

“As if you’d let that happen. You’d call me from the toilet if that was the only spare time you had,” Geralt answered. “And I’d answer. Complain, definitely, but answer.”

Jaskier snorted, then his free thumb--the one Geralt wasn’t currently trailing his own thumb over--made its way to his mouth. He chewed on the nail absently, his eyes so wide the white almost shone in the darkness.

“You don’t have to decide tonight, Jask,” Geralt reminded him. He sat himself up, which was a bit of a struggle without extracting his hand from Jaskier’s grasp, but he managed it. “You were only offered the tour today, and it’s still months out. No one is expecting you to have an answer by tomorrow morning.”

“I know,” Jaskier said, but he sounded miserable just the same. “It feels like this should be an easy decision, though. I mean. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“And five years ago it would have been easy,” Geralt answered, shrugging. “Before you had us tying you down. Ciri and I complicate things.”

Geralt pulled his hand from Jaskier’s, quickly sliding it around Jaskier’s back to assuage the hurt look and hook him in by the hip. Geralt tugged Jaskier close to him and let out a satisfied noise as Jaskier wrapped his arm around Geralt’s waist, hooked their legs together, and buried his face in Geralt’s shoulder. It was only once he was completely wrapped around Geralt that Jaskier finally relaxed, just a little bit.

“It’s a good sort of complicated. I wouldn’t trade you two for the world,” Jaskier mumbled.

Geralt hummed. It was taking every bit of effort he had in him not to voice his own fears. Jaskier didn’t need Geralt’s own, likely unfounded, concerns and hesitations. Still, though, it was hard not to play out the worst-case scenarios in his head. 

What if Jaskier got some distance, and realized that life was better without Geralt and Ciri? What if he realized that fatherhood was too much responsibility, when he could be off chasing his dreams of being a superstar? What if Jaskier met someone while he was on tour, someone as bright and eye catching as Jaskier was, and realized he deserved better than Geralt? What if this was just the first step in losing him? What if the phone calls tapered off, and Jaskier never came back, not really, not in the capacity Geralt had him now?

He couldn’t voice these fears. Jaskier didn’t need the burden of Geralt’s panicking on top of his own. And, truly, Geralt was proud of Jaskier and excited for him. He’d be the second opener for Priscilla, who was already a global superstar, and she had chosen Jaskier. It was huge, and would skyrocket his career and his fame. Jaskier had to take it. If Geralt had anything to say about it, he would take it, and Geralt would just have to hope that he was let down easy, when the time came.

“I wish this didn’t feel like I was choosing between two halves of me,” Jaskier said, a while later.

Geralt kissed the top of Jaskier’s head, then slowly settled them back down on the mattress. Jaskier moved with him and once they were laying down, he rewrapped himself so he was half on top of Geralt. Normally, Geralt would have complained, teased Jaskier about crushing him. Now, though, he was sure they both needed the contact.

“This half isn’t going anywhere,” Geralt assured him. “If you decide to go, we’ll make it work.”

Jaskier fell silent after that, but they both took a long time to drift off to sleep.

--

“I’m going to go,” Jaskier said from the doorway.

Geralt looked up from his book, an eyebrow raised. He knew what Jaskier was talking about, of course, but he hadn’t expected those to be the first words out of his mouth as Jaskier came home from work.

“Nice to see you, too, Jaskier,” Geralt teased, putting down his book.

Jaskier crossed the room and plopped himself down on the other side of the couch, facing Geralt. His face was red and he was still breathing a bit hard, though he was trying very hard to keep his breaths even. Had he run home?

“Hi, love. It’s nice to see you,” Jaskier said, though the words rushed out of him before he repeated, “I’m going to go.”

“That’s great,” Geralt answered. He kept his voice steady, though it felt almost like his heart was beating its way out of his chest. Geralt didn’t want this, but who was he to say no?

“Another opportunity like this isn’t going to come up again. I’ve been working toward this my entire life, and things are finally falling into place. I’d be stupid not to take this opportunity Priscilla is giving me. I mean--this could lead to a real record deal. I could become… maybe not as big as Priscilla, but bigger than I am now,” Jaskier said, and by the end of his explanation, his chest was heaving with his breaths.

“You’re right,” Geralt answered, nodding.

Jaskier didn’t react. Geralt didn’t think he really heard Geralt; he was so caught up in his explanation.

“And you and I--we can do long distance. I mean, we’ve been away from each other before. Just. Not this long. And it’d be hard, but I think we could handle it. And--and Ciri probably wouldn’t totally understand, and that would be heartbreaking to not see her, but we could prepare her and talk her through me being gone for so long. And video call all the time. I love you guys, and we could make this work, and I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think we could survive it. I just--I have to go after this, you know? I won’t get another opportunity like this.”

Geralt reached out a hand and set it on Jaskier’s knee, calming the way it was bouncing nervously. Jaskier finally looked at him, and something on Geralt’s face had Jaskier letting out his breath in a loud whoosh.

“It’s okay, Jask. I’m not mad. Whatever you choose, I’ll be here,” he answered.

Jaskier’s head tilted to the side, his eyes wide and wet, but he didn’t let any tears fall. Instead, he leaned in and took Geralt’s face in his hands and kissed Geralt.

“Thank you,” Jaskier whispered. And that was that.

--

“Geralt, I can’t,” Jaskier whined as Geralt came down the stairs.

Geralt shot Jaskier a questioning look just before he dutifully put Ciri’s latest favorite toy back exactly where she specified it needed to go. He had learned the hard way not to allow the favored toy to stay in her room at night, lest the three-year-old decide that sleep was for chumps again. When he had placed it back on its shelf and Jaskier still hadn’t answered, Geralt turned to where Jaskier was sitting at the table and raised an eyebrow.

“Are you going to tell me what you can’t, or was I supposed to just know from that vague statement?” Geralt asked. 

Geralt stepped up behind Jaskier’s chair and put his hands on Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier sighed with his normal amount of dramatic flair and tilted his head back until it rested against Geralt’s stomach.

“I can’t leave,” Jaskier said, still sounding just as distressed. “How could anyone leave that sweet thing? She’s doling out kisses and promised me I could have another one in the morning as long as I’m good. I can’t just… not help you put her to bed when she’s here! It’s hard enough when she’s just at Yennefer’s!”

Geralt hummed and leaned in, kissing Jaskier’s forehead before he straightened up again.

“So you aren’t going?” he asked.

“So I’m not going,” Jaskier answered. 

Jaskier took hold of Geralt’s fingers and tilted his chin up, just a little, but insistently enough that Geralt conceded and leaned in for a kiss. Geralt wished more than anything that they could stay here, in this decision.

--

“Geralt.”

Geralt hummed, but didn’t look up from the dish he was drying. He placed it on the drying mat, then held out his hands for a new dish, but Jaskier did not let go until Geralt was looking at him.

“Yes, Jaskier?” Geralt asked, and finally Jaskier released the dish. 

Jaskier turned back to the sink and started in on another dish, his jaw working though his mouth did not open. Geralt braced himself. Another flip flop, then. Geralt hadn’t said anything--had been pointedly neutral any time the discussion came up--but he had started to believe Jaskier had settled on not going.

“I don’t know what I should do,” Jaskier said.

“About the tour?”

“Yeah. It… feels wrong to turn it down. But it also feels wrong to leave.” He sighed, then passed on another dish. Jaskier’s now-empty hands wrapped around the edge of the counter and he leaned into it, the muscles of his forearms pressing against his skin. “I wish it was as easy as you just… coming with me.”

“I wish it was, too,” Geralt agreed. He put the dish, now drier, on the mat with the others, and leaned his back against the counter. “But you know it’s not. I can’t leave work that long, we can’t pull Ciri out of preschool, and we can’t fly Ciri out every other week to go to Yen’s.”

Jaskier sighed again and nodded, working his lower lip between his teeth hard enough that Geralt was half convinced he’d bite through it soon. He stared down at the sink, still full of water and bubbles. Geralt stared at Jaskier.

“What do you want me to do?” Jaskier asked.

“No, Jask,” Geralt said, shaking his head. “I’m not going to answer that.”

“But why not? Surely you have an opinion.”

“I can’t make this choice for you. I refuse to be what pushes you away, or what takes your dream away from you. I told you I’d support whatever you chose, and I will. But I won’t choose for you.”

Jaskier made an agitated noise and forcefully--or, as forcefully as he could--pulled the plug in the sink. He stormed off into the living room and dropped himself onto the couch, his arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. Geralt wanted to say he looked like a child. It would be true, but Jaskier wouldn’t take that as a tease right now.

“But you haven’t given me any indication of what it is you would want, Geralt,” Jaskier insisted. He scowled at Geralt when Geralt followed after him and sat on the cushion beside Jaskier, but let Geralt take his hand and entangle their fingers.

“I would miss you if you left,” Geralt answered, kissing the back of Jaskier’s hand. “And I’d be disappointed if you turned this opportunity down. It’s not any easier a decision for me.”

Jaskier frowned, but he nodded. A moment later, he was scooting closer to Geralt and throwing his legs over Geralt’s lap. They were quiet for a long time, just enjoying the sounds of a silent, child-free house, as it would only remain for another 8 hours or so. Geralt didn’t want to imagine what it would sound like when Jaskier left. Because he had to. That was where this was all going. Jaskier had to choose his career, and they would just have to hope for the best.

“You want me to stay, don’t you?” Jaskier finally asked, tucking his chin into Geralt’s shoulder.

Geralt snorted. “If you’re going to trick me, you’ll have to do better than that.”

--

The house had been silent before. It was hardly the first time Geralt had it all completely to himself. This time, however, was different. Other silences had the promise that they would soon end, and Geralt would find himself back with his ever-moving daughter or his endlessly noisy musician. It had become a comfort, having all that movement and noise in the house.

Now it was just Geralt, for the foreseeable future. He stood in front of the garage door of his empty house after dropping Ciri off at Yennefer’s for the week. Jaskier had left earlier today for his tour, after lengthy goodbyes to both Ciri and Geralt. Geralt didn't want to open that door and walk into a home that was technically his own, and yet not.

There was nothing to be gained by standing outside the door, though. So Geralt took a deep breath, pushed the door open, walked inside....

...and found candles.

Geralt stopped, blinking dumbly at the lit candles in the otherwise dark entryway. They led to the side, around the corner and, presumably, up the stairs? Geralt didn’t dare let himself hope, but he certainly hadn’t placed them there, nor would he have lit the candles before leaving the house for an extended period of time. Instead of letting himself hope, or dwell too much at all, Geralt followed the trail.

They did, in fact, lead upstairs. To the closed door of the bedroom he shared with Jaskier. Geralt took another breath, then pushed the door open.

There Jaskier was, sitting on the end of the bed and smiling sheepishly up at Geralt.

“Jask, what are you--”

“You know, in all my back and forth, I ignored the most important thing,” Jaskier interrupted, standing up. He stepped across the short distance between them and took Geralt’s hands. The low lighting made him look even more beautiful than usual, and Geralt could just barely make out the flush of his cheeks. “I didn’t forget, because it was there, in the back of my mind. I just didn’t let myself think about it.”

“Jaskier, you’re supposed to be on a plane right now, what are you--”

“I tried. I got there, I was all ready to go, and then I just… couldn’t. It was all wrong.” He shook his head, and stepped impossibly closer. “I realized I left you behind. I’d never forgive myself if I got on that plane without you.”

“You know I can’t--”

“Then that means I can’t, either.” Jaskier leaned in, and pressed his lips to Geralt’s in a chaste kiss. “You’re the love of my life. When I picture how I want the rest of my life to go, maybe five years ago it would have included this tour. But now? Now, I’d be happy to be a nobody musician forever, because staying here, with you, is what I want.”

Relief washed over Geralt. He let go of Jaskier’s hands to wrap his arms around Jaskier’s middle and pull him in for the tightest hug he had ever given anyone. Jaskier hummed happily and leaned into the embrace, mirroring the way Geralt pressed his face into Jaskier’s neck.

“I had a feeling there was something you weren’t telling me,” Jaskier whispered some time later.

“I never want you to leave,” Geralt answered, feeling brave now that they were in the almost-dark. Jaskier was here and Jaskier was going to stay. Geralt could hold him all he wanted, because he wasn’t going anywhere.

[selfmadesuperhero]

i’m very much not okay 

and i’ll probably take very long for me to explain why

i don’t know how to write this. i don’t know where to even start. i’m here because i just don’t have anywhere else to go. i can’t afford therapy. i no longer have any close friends other than Mabu (gf).

it’s getting pretty bad inside my head

i know most people’s lives are hell this year and i’m not special. i know that. to me, this year is feeling like the last nail in my coffin because 2019 had already chewed me up and spit me out. 

i kept my last job for eight years. after my first year there, another developer came in, and we became friends. we worked side by side less than 4 feet apart for six years. our hours were flexible but we always agreed upon our schedule just so work would be more bearable, because we both hated it and often had to team up against our boss’ downright abuse. it was a very small company (at its biggest we were only 7 employees). we were also going to graduate at the same time from the same school (different majors), so we had a bit of a pact to leave our shitty boss once we’d graduated and start developing our own, way less shitty games.

at the start of 2019, he got an excellent job offer. i was thrilled for him and told him to of course get out of that hellhole we hated so much, we were only there because the pay was decent and the hours were flexible so we could get our degree, you know? it stung, but i was happy for him. on the last day i gave him a ride home (which is also something i did almost daily), he surprised me by hugging me and telling me i was like a brother to him and our plans weren’t going to change. 

i believed him, and went back to work. he was soon replaced, obviously, by a junior developer because that’s how capitalism works. but suddenly, i no longer had someone to take a stand with me against my boss - there was no one left that i knew, everyone had resigned or been fired and i was the oldest employee. you’d think that’d earn me something, after eight years being dedicated to the same company, right? 

(shortly after, my grandma passed, after years and years of agonizing in a wheelchair. we lived together)

fuck that

the first months were fine. i was being the senior developer and teaching the junior constantly, so my boss stayed out of my way. but see, this is where he started to get ansty. the more the junior stopped being a junior and was actually useful for something, the more that piece of gigantic ass just started thinking only about our salaries. i started in that company in 2012 making little more than 3 bucks/hour (remember i live in a third world country, but it was still specialized work), but by 2019, my salary was pretty much double of what the junior was making, and every penny extra i got during those years was a CONQUEST. i also worked six hours while he worked eight, so.

my boss basically started treating me even more like shit. he wasn’t nice to be around before, but he was bearable in small amounts. suddenly it was obvious to everyone that he was really fixating on me and my performance, and to me it was obvious he just wanted me to walk away too so he could replace me with TWO junior developers instead of just one measly charlie. 

then, the nationals elections began. oh boy.

this probably wouldn’t read as news to anyone, but i’m a huge leftie, obviously. if you’re at all interested in politics, read about what socialist policies have done for uruguay during the past 15 years and how they turned us into AT LEAST a developing country, but i digress. 

the people that sat in my office even shared my political views or whatever, but my boss is actually part of the conservative party and started actively campaigning. every time something involving politics happened, he made a point to come barging in the office and telling me and specifically me about it like i was personally running against his party. i actually recorded him once to have proof of him at least screaming at me, so i could check if i was crazy for thinking he had something against me. he frequently called me communist and just mocked my views. if you’re wondering, yes, this is illegal, but nothing happened. 

then, two big things happened at once: we lost the election, and my recently adopted puppy was diagnosed with distemper. yes, it happened on the same that and it’s a day i’ll never forget. 

my girlfriend and i had talked about getting a puppy once we moved in together. we’d named him like two years before it actually happened. we moved in together on may 2019 and on september i found the most precious boy for adoption on facebook and i was innocently all like “oh i’ve had to put rescue dogs for adoption before, let’s give back!”. 

on october 27th, he had a seizure and the vet told us it was likely we’d have to put him down because only 20% of dogs survived, and it was even less for puppies. 

when i went to work, i had to put up with my boss laughing and mocking me for winning the election “against me”. i guess i missed my running for anything?

this post is already too long for me to get into details about my dog’s disease. for months, every day we looked after him constantly. i read everything there was to BE READ about distemper online, spent thousands of pesos on medicine and treatments just in case he had a chance. good news is he did! this is the only positive note in this post. 

it still wasn’t easy. he made us cry at least three times a day. we really thought he was dying, and we’d made the mistake of naming him 2 years before he was even born. we’d taken PERFECT care of him while he was unvaccinated, but the vet told us it was most likely he was already infected before he came home to us. i’d never seen such a small puppy so sick. he hallucinated constantly. if you don’t know, distemper is a neuro/digestive/skin/bone/HELL disease that’s really nasty. he’d have seizures almost daily and poop and pee himself. he stopped being able to control his body other than his two front legs, which he didn’t even have full control of. when he stopped being able to walk, he started crying constantly, it really tore the heart out of my chest

we called another vet, a dog physical therapist, so she’d tell us how we could help him. she told us to make him stand as long as possible, so every time he had a meal, i’d bend down with him and hold his hips - so he’d be able to stand, and slowly gain back some muscle mobility. every day we massaged his legs and flexed his joints, even his tiny toes, so he’d avoid atrophy. and we did it!! as i’m writing this, he’s one year old now, he’s no longer sick even if he’ll carry with him plenty of lifelong sequels, and he walks and runs and barks like the best of them ♥ i wasn’t going to plug anything but if you wanna see his progress, it’s on instagram @hamiltonthefighter

okay, i guess i ended up talking at length about his disease in the end, sorry. his walking again had a price to pay for me: my own back. for two or three months i was bent over this dog, you know? i still can’t get out of bed without help sometimes lol around december it got really bad but i just kept popping pills because joy oh joy, i was doing my thesis and i didn’t really have time or money for anything else. my job was basically paying for our rent, my university classes including the thesis course which was ridiculously expensive, and our dog had given me credit card debt out of desperation (we even had to buy those rubber things used for yoga to place on our floors so he’d have something to use his nails against instead of constantly slipping on the floor, we tried every medication that might help, we gave him CBD oils, all kinds of vitamins, constant vet visits where during the first two weeks he got like three different shots every day, etc)

i’m rambling, and i’m sorry, but i don’t really think anyone will read this. i started this post crying my eyes out and writing about my dog at least has been calming, because even if he’s a drooling mess now, he’s still the same he ever was and i love him very much and he’s sleeping soundly next to me and he’s finally close to fine. 

remember the friend i talked about like half an hour ago? the one that worked with me for six years? nothing changed between us during the first months. for my thesis, i was going to develop a videogame with Mabu, but we were allowed to have external coding help because it was about GameDev, not the actual coding. i knew how to code, obviously, but Nico (the friend, guess we’ll give him a name) was also part of our project so he was gonna help us code so i had more time to focus on art and 3D modelling. the idea was kill two birds with one stone, make something we all liked, mabu and I were going to graduate with it and then we’d keep working on it during 2020 as we’d always always talked about.

by december, even if nico and i still talked regularly, i could tell he had just moved on with his life. he’d said he’d help us, but he was doing his own thesis, so i told him not to worry at that time, our final due date was in february. he asked us to forgive him during december and promised us he’d come back in january to DEVOTE himself to the project. i started coding the project besides working on the art and i was thankfully able to meet all the deadlines, so it was really fine, of course i understood where he was coming from. 

then, on january 7th, Mabu’s grandma passed away. she was scheduled for a heart surgery that supposedly only had 1% risk, and she passed on the table because of a doctor’s mistake. the surgery was here in the capital, but Mabu’s family lives five hours away. she comes from a very big, very loving family, and her grandma (being the mother of five children) was very much the center of it. i also loved her. she’d replaced my grandma the second she passed and every time i saw her she hugged me like i was a lost grandson. 

when my girlfriend called me during her surgery, i immediately left work because i just knew she would be crying if things were okay. this was a nightmare come alive for a family of 20+ people, and most of them were 5 hours away from their own house. my mother in law was (and still is) devastated by the lost of her mother because she was the one to encourage the surgery and she still thinks she killed her. i drove my her, my girlfriend, her sister and her sister’s boyfriend on my mother’s in law van for five hours while they all cried or slept and i had to really, really pinch myself because i was EXHAUSTED but what else could i do? 

logically i missed work the next day. LOGICALLY. i had the service to attend and i was 5 hours away from the office and i didn’t even have my own car with me. i told my boss to discount the day, since i wasn’t entitled to the mourning day by law because it wasn’t my grandma. he didn’t even reply - he almost never talked to me by this point unless it was to berate me for something. i went back to work the day after the service.

now, remember we were doing our thesis and it was due in february? it really wasn’t great timing for anyone to die, but i was trusting Nico’s promise that he’d have more free time and he’d make up for not helping us code sooner. i told him the news about Mabu’s grandma, and then basically had to tell him to say something to her for her loss because he was supposed to be her friend, what the fuck, why aren’t you at least sending her a text.

let’s just say, january wasn’t a great month for Mabu and myself. two weeks after the passing, we still hadn’t had news from Nico. Mabu didn’t even have time to properly mourn because we had to turn our thesis in like, little over a month. i wrote to nico just downright ASKING if he was gonna be able to help us or WHAT, to which he said to me...

he’d never promised anything because he was really busy with his own stuff and he didn’t want to bring it up sooner because he knew Mabu was mourning and things were hard for us at the moment? 

like that’s great pal, thanks for telling me at the last POSSIBLE second you were just dropping out altogether, what the actual fuck? it still baffles me that someone can be so thick headed, but he kept saying he had made no promises and both Mabu and I knew that was a lie and i honestly just couldn’t deal with someone so selfish he couldn’t at least give a heads up sooner

the icing on the cake during the beginning of this year is someone i haven’t even mentined: MY PIECE OF SHIT BROTHER. talking about him may deserve another post, because this is already so long and convoluted and i haven’t even talked about his involvement in my misery during 2019-2020. i’ll try to make the story short if anyone’s still reading this far: 

a lot of years ago, our maternal grandmother moved to uruguay from russia and bought a tiny shitty house here next to my mother’s. my mother still hasn’t talked to me since 2013 because i’m trans, but that’s neither here nor there. i tried to keep in touch with my brother (we don’t share dads so he was no relation with my side of the family), and around 2017 i finally succeeded in making friends with him. or so i thought, clearly. 

that grandmother passed... sometime. i don’t really know because they cut me off. she didn’t speak to me either, she was literally a crazy old nasty woman and i didn’t even care when i heard she’d died, to be honest. she was such a nasty woman, she’d put her tiny shitty house to my and my brother’s name just to keep her own daughter out of the inheritance when she bought it. 

that also meant i was inheriting something for the first time ever, even if it was shitty. BUT my brother had his own fake grandma (the woman who looked after him his whole life instead of our mother) who was very old and frail and asked me if he could house her there. i said yes because again, i didn’t give a shit about the inheritance or the house or anything regarding my mother’s side of the family (other than him obviously), so for years this woman occupied the house. my brother basically took all existing furniture and appliances because he was moving in with a girlfriend and i even loaded up my shitty car with his stuff. all i wanted to inherit was the couch set, which had come all the way from russia and everyone had promised me since i was a wee lad, but he started whining about his fake-grandma not having a living room set and nowhere to sit and i didn’t even live by myself yet so i let them have the fucking couches, too. 

oh boy this is already too long but now i’m too lazy to make a separate post

anyway, sometime during 2019, the woman moved out to an old folks home because she could no longer take care of herself. i immediately asked about the couch set with hope in my heart that it could finally be mine, but my brother told me our mother didn’t want me to have it. 

he wanted to rent the house to make a profit, which sounded good to me because of that dog related credit card debt i talked about. and here’s where you might think i’m not that there in the head, but all my life i didn’t want anything to do with that house until my mother was in the ground - not out of hate but because i thought it was a shitty thing her own mother had done to her, and the inheritance should have been hers. she doesn’t have a degree or a stable job because she’s a russian translator so hey, whatever, they needed it more than i did. but then my brother starting getting ideas about improving the house so we’d make more money, and how we should do it together, and... i think i might have mentioned already why i didn’t exactly have time to redo a house? i was doing my thesis? about to graduate? my boss was constantly on my case? my dog was about to die? 

i helped as much as i could at first, but then december came, and then january, and my brother just kept nagging me about the house like i was purposefuly sitting on my ass doing nothing, because oh every day it’s not rented it’s money lost. no amount of explaining how stretched thin i was seemed to suffice, not even when mabu’s grandma died and nico left us hanging with the thesis and i had less than a month left to code the whole project by myself while ALSO taking care of the art. 

by the end of january, i was so stressed, i called a doctor after a panic attack. he gave me a weeks rest because of my back, because i wasn’t even able to get up without help at that time. it wasn’t much of a rest because i still used that time to sit at the computer and code 15 hours a day at LEAST, but hey. 

it was the first time in 8 years i’d taken medical leave of ANY kind. i didn’t even get medical leave when i got my chest surgery. it happened on a friday and i was back to work the next monday. i’d never skipped more than 2 days of work at best when i had a bad case of the flu or something, but that was it. 

when i went back to work, my boss immediatelly called me to his office. he started berating me about my performance again, bringing graphs comparing the amount of lines of code i’d written next to my coworkers. i didn’t mention this, but the graphic designer had also quit during 2019, so i was also covering that workload and no, that didn’t exactly translate to lines of code. i also had to spend HOURS every day tutoring the junior because he was too much of a cheap shit (didn’t use those words) to hire an experienced developer. i’d even WORKED AS A GRAPHIC DESIGNER FOR MEDIA CONTENT FOR HIS POLITICAL CAREER, EVEN IF IT WAS AGAINST MY BELIEFS AND NOT AT ALL RELATED TO MY JOB. he denied everything. EVERYTHING. he stuck to the narrative that i was just lazy and the proof was i’d just taken AN ENTIRE WEEK because “my back just hurt a little” and i had the audacity to skip work for someone else’s grandmother dying

i’m not exaggerating, i swear to anyone who might be reading this. that day was brutal and i’m still not over it half a year later, i don’t care if that makes me sound like a wuss. i worked eight years of my life in this fucking place. 

this argument lasted for hours, but i kept my head down because i couldn’t afford to lose the job, specially not then. i even apologized for any loss in performance and tried to explain my point of view and what i was going through (which i’d already done to another superior weeks ago anyway). but just when i thought i’d MAYBE be able to keep my head above water, he told me he was denying my the request i’d made to take two weeks of holiday days before the thesis final due date. 

i had already explained everything to him. everything, even nico dropping the team and my having to do everything by myself. i broke down and i told him he was forcing me to leave my job, i’d just have been certified by a doctor and i was asking for leave for SCHOOL (all things that are protected by law here), but he just kept repeating i could either walk away from my job or show up during those two weeks. he just wanted me gone, but he couldn’t fire me right away without having to pay me THOUSANDS because of my seniority (by law). he knew what he was doing to me and he didn’t care about it. he didn’t even let me TOUCH MY COMPUTER, he told me he wasn’t the one pushing me away, that i was doing this to myself, and he’d ask for a lawyer to check my computer for any “inconsistencies in my activity”, even. i really have a hard time just thinking about that day and how utterly humilliating it was. i lost a lot of personal files, because i sat at that desk for eight years and of course i had personal files because sometimes i stayed after hours before going to class. 

imagine for a second a sixty year old man, rich as shit, political candidate, standing in front of a computer, disconnecting the mouse and keyboard so i couldn’t touch it, yelling at me i was doing this to myself and i was losing my job because i had the audacity to ask for two weeks leave to finish my fucking school thesis. 

and yeah, i lawyered up. i didn’t have actual money to AFFORD a lawyer, but mabu’s cousin’s girlfriend was a lawyer and lived one block away and i immediatelly told her everything there was to tell. she brought me to the firm she worked in and they guaranteed me i had a pretty strong case and i was at least gonna be able to walk away with something.

that put things in hold for a while because the “trial” or whatever wasn’t gonna be held until after the thesis, so i tried to forget about it. my boss even owed me my untaken paid vacation days, which i told the lawyers because i was pretty sure he’d just forgot, but i wanted to know if it made a better case against him. they agreed, and i left it at that. 

but you know who was still making my life miserable even when february began and i had less than three weeks to finish our project right? MY SWEET BABY BRO. he was constantly nagging me about having to do all the work himself, like I’D ASKED ANYTHING FROM THAT HOUSE TO BEGIN WITH. but see, the nastier he started getting, the more apparent his lies began to appear. he got nasty to the level where ON THE DAY I WAS TURNING THE PROJECT IN he kept calling me demanding MONEY for stuff he’d paid for the house without checking in with me. i was honestly baffled by his level of selfishness, i was already sleeping three hours a day tops and he expected me to what, paint walls? he was FIERCELY against having to wait for my project to be done even if it was two weeks away and he was asking and asking for money when i’d just told him i’d lost my job without a penny to show for it. nice guy, really. 

suddenly, the following lies became clear: 

 my mother didn’t care if i took the couch set, he told me that because he was moving again and he was planning on taking the couches himself. (he ended up doing just so, too). he lied to me with the thing that hurts me most in the world: my mother hating me. he had even made a joke about it, because my mother had bought a new couch not long ago, and he didn’t “get” why she “didn’t want me to have anything”

 years ago he’d told me he had refinanced a tax debt the house had, and i gave him money for it. now that the house was about to be put up for rent, he pretended that had never happened and suddenly started talking about how we needed to take care of that

 he wasn’t planning on splitting the rent three ways between him, our mother and i. he was gonna keep two thirds, and i later even found out my own mother had given him the idea. 

 then poor mabu confessed to me once, two years ago, she’d wore a skirt one time visiting my brother and his then girlfriend, and he had told her nasty stuff to her year upon saying goodbye and she had never said anything because didn’t want to hurt our sibling relationship 

talk about final nail huh? 

i confronted him and he denied everything, obviously, he instantly played the victim card, how dare i think that way about him, how dare i break his dreams of reuniting the family again. he said things to me i’ll also never forget like, apparently, it shows that i’m a shit person because i have no friends and no one wants me around, unlike him that has so many. he told me i thought the world owed me when i was shit and i believed anything anyone told me before believing him. no one told me any of his lies, i caught them all by myself, but whatever. he cursed me and told me he never wanted anything to do with me because i was rotten and i only cared about money and i was so so selfish. this must have been around march and i still don’t know anything from him, or care.

what do i have to do for that side of the family to leave me alone, i wonder? all i ever wanted to do was be his friend

the “trial” against my boss came and suddenly every lawyer that worked at that firm was taking a fucking holiday except for the one that was supposedly leading my case - except suddenly, i didn’t have much of a case at all. i walked away with less than 2 thousand dollars and that was WITH the vacation days i hadn’t taken. the agreement was the lawyers were gonna keep 25% of however much i made but THAT vacation money wasn’t supposed to count because it didn’t come out of the “trial” thing, you know? 

well, it did. the lawyer screwed me over too. but hey, at least he’d gotten me unemployment for a couple of months (you only apply for unemployment if you’re fired, not if you walk away from a job, and my having been fired or not was what was being contested), i still tried to be optimistic, i had a few months to figure things out while i looked for another job, and at least i was able to finish paying for school with that money.

yeah, this was late february, beginning of march. joke’s on me for being optimistic at all

my own brother plotting with my own mother against me has done a number for my mental health. i already had baggage aplenty, like every trans dude or girl whose parents would rather see them dead than be a dyke/fag (my mother’s own words, ladies and gents)

my boss of eight years kicking me to the curve at the worst moment in my life in the most humilliating of ways while blaming me for it has left me feeling so worthless to people in general. i’m getting better with time, i think, but i’m still all not there. i have a really hard time thinking my work is worth anything at all.

i keep thinking my brother was right, and i’m a shitty friend, and i don’t deserve anyone around. my only real friend at the moment is my girlfriend, which makes it really hard to have any arguments because i start feeling like my life is ending because she’s pretty much all i have left and she’s the most important thing in the world to me because i wouldn’t have survived all this shit i’m writing without her by my side. i would walk to hell and back for her. but nico also left me behind without a second thought, after telling me i was like a brother to him, no matter how many times i invited him to hang out or anything to keep in touch. i’ve been a shitty friend to a lot of people, but not him, and he still didn’t care about me at all, so i just stopped trying. 

but now social distancing has got me all fucked up. i can’t trust people. i can’t go outside. everything is scary to me, i have at least two or three panic attacks per WEEK and they get nastier and longer every time. i know i need help, but i can’t even afford rent, let alone therapy. Uruguay has the worst unemployment rates since 2006 now thanks to our baby-Trump right now. i look for jobs daily even if the notion of having a job even SIMILAR to the one i had before gives me the shakes. programming isn’t as hard as some people may think, but the workplaces are usually VERY toxic because you’re valued by the amount of lines of code you write, and i’m so so tired. i’m still looking because I NEED. TO. PAY. RENT. but not because it’s something i want in life, at all. i’d much rather be poor and just do freelance work instead, but i’m failing.

i thank the people that have helped me or commissioned me these past few months from the bottom of my heart. i’m sorry i’m not more active, i’m sorry i’m still rusty and can’t draw faster, i’m sorry i sometimes spend half a day crying my eyes out because i just don’t know how to move forward. i have a week left, i still haven’t made enough for rent, let alone the bills or food. mabu used to get plenty of art commissions on etsy, but she hasn’t sold anything since march either and she’s younger than me so our financial struggles have an even deeper impact on her

i’m just so, so tired. i’m lucky to have mabu, and that is about it. i honestly don’t think i could have survived this year without her. for months the future has looked like a black screen to me. i can’t even trust the vegetable market in front of my fucking house because some piece of shit spread the rumor that i’m trans and now i can’t even open the door to my front house without getting stares sometimes, it’s ridiculous. i wish i could trust more than one person in the world so that everything wasn’t on her shoulders.

i’m not okay. we’re not okay.

that’s about it. i’m sorry i can’t end this on a more positive note. at least we graduated with an excellent score. not that we had a graduation, obviously. thanks corona.

thank you for reading if you read this far ♥

[artificialqueens]

Not A Ghost, You're In My Head (Your Move 3/3) (Branjie) - Ortega

a/n: this has had about fifty billion potential titles, but rest assured that finally this is Your Move 3, only a year and a bit late. i really hope u all enjoy the end of the saga, and sorry and thank u to those who have been so patient! i’ll shut up now bc quite frankly uv all waited long enough for this. (title’s from Forever by Charli XCX pls listen to it it’s such a Branjie song)

fic summary: “Everything was perfect. Until it wasn’t.”

***

The smell of coffee and the warmth of the cafe inside hits Brooke like a ton of bricks as she walks in, blinks a little, and scans the room to find a seat. Eventually her eyes settle on a small booth through the back, away from the clatter and hiss of the coffee machines and probably the closest thing to quiet that they’ll get in a public setting like this. Sliding into it, Brooke shrugs her jacket off, lifts up a menu, puts it down again, drums her nails against the tabletop and takes her phone out. She checks the time, then checks her reflection in her phone’s camera. Briefly she finds it crossing her mind that she’s probably put more effort into her outfit, hair and makeup today than she had for their first date. What had she worn for their first date again? She can’t remember. She supposes it doesn’t matter now.

Putting her phone down, Brooke digs her toes into the soles of her shoes and takes one deep breath that she intends to be calming. Instead it leaves her feeling as if she is trapped under a sheet of ice with a millimetre of air to work with before she sinks underwater. Part of her feels as if she is already sinking. The other part of her feels as if she sank a month-and-a-bit ago and here she is, sitting waiting in a cafe, a living shipwreck. Sometimes her ribs feel like huge, cracked planks of wood, an empty vessel where something once lived. Sometimes it feels as if her heart is a sail, a huge mast broken in two with two long, ragged dagger marks scarring the sheet and rendering it useless. Other times she feels like a huge, heavy propellor is cutting into her stomach and churning it up, though that’s mainly when she makes the mistake of scanning social media (and isn’t madness doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?)

Today, Brooke just feels hollow.

Suddenly her phone buzzes harshly against the table and Brooke’s heart involuntarily leaps as she picks it up, an aftershock of the past seven months that will eventually dissipate with time. At least, she hopes so.

V: i can’t do this today

V: i’m sorry

Brooke feels as if an elastic band inside her has suddenly snapped. She doesn’t know if she feels relieved or if she wants to cry. Feeling a blush prickle against her cheeks and a lump form in her throat, her body seems to make the decision for her.

B: It’s okay don’t worry. Another time x

What does she expect? Brooke isn’t supposed to be the heartbroken one, Brooke isn’t meant to be the one that is sitting crying at a coffee shop table as if she’s the one that’s been broken up with. She wipes below her eyes and dabs lightly at her lashes with her fingers before pulling her jacket back on and walking quickly back through the door of the cafe she’d stepped through not even five minutes ago.

They’ll try again when she’s ready.

***

Brooke sinks on top of her bed, letting out a huge, deep breath of air until her stomach feels as if it is concave. It had been Vanessa that was the cautious one, it had always been Brooke making the big decisions about their relationship- a fact that, she cruelly reminds herself, remained true til its very end. She blinks very slowly. Her eyelids are so fucking heavy and tired. She took the morning off work to accommodate her plans and now she has nothing to do. Sitting and staring at the ceiling until her eyes burn is a nice impromptu plan.  

Her phone suddenly hums in the silence of the room. As if she’s been shocked by jump leads, Brooke spins over on her bed and grabs her phone from her bedside table, her heart hammering at an unhealthy rate. She feels the disappointment sink through her whole body when she sees the name on the screen.

“Hey.”

“Hey, boo. Calling to see how you were, but your tone kind of says it all for me.”

Brooke rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well. Vanessa never showed.”

“I know. She phoned me.”

The cardiac arrest is back, alive and unwell in Brooke’s ribcage. “What did she say?”

“That she felt like an ass. I asked her what donkeys had to do with anything.”

Brooke shakes her head and laughs in spite of herself. “You’re the fucking worst.”

“I know. How are you doing?”

Brooke frowns deeply. “What, that’s all you said? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

A sigh comes from the end of the line. “Brooke, maybe you have to let her go.”

“No, come on, Yves, that’s not fair. Don’t talk to me like I’m obsessed and still clinging on because that’s not…it’s more complicated than that.”

“I mean. It was you that ended things.”

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me,” Brooke sighs, her heart feeling sick and empty.

“Look, just give her some time. You can’t just expect everything to go back to the way things were. Because…” her friend pauses on the end of the line, as if she’s about to deliver something Brooke won’t want to hear. “…well. Things might not.”

“I thought you were phoning to cheer me up,” Brooke says, deadpan. Yvie has the audacity to laugh.

“No, sorry, sorry. I just…you know. Best friends tell you shit you don’t want to hear sometimes. That’s part of the contract I signed back in high school,” Yvie’s affectionate warm laugh comes down the phone and Brooke finds herself smiling. It’s impossible to stay mad at Yvie; she may look fierce on the outside but Brooke knows she’s secretly a Care Bear brought to life via magic spell. Brooke is sincerely happy they’ve been friends for so long. They’ve helped each other and been there for each other through a lot, of course, through situations that are arguably worse than this, but Brooke is glad she has Yvie during this absolutely shit time. Vanessa had loved Yvie too when she’d met all of Brooke’s friends. Sure, she’d got along with Plastique and Nina and had eventually warmed to Bianca (although that had been a struggle after some of Bianca’s snide comments), but Yvie had welcomed her into Brooke’s life with open arms and had treated her as if they had been friends all their lives too. Brooke knows Yvie still speaks to Vanessa just to check in on her. She doesn’t mind.

“Do you wanna go for drinks tonight? Or food, if you feel like drinks will descend into stuff you’ll regret,” Yvie continues down the phone. Brooke exhales slowly.

“…Honestly Yves, it’s fine.”

“I’ll come to the apartment then. I just don’t want you wallowing. Wallowing’s for hippos. You’re not a hippo. You’re a…graceful crane.”

“You’re drunk already.”

“Maybe I am, and what the fuck of it? Right, I’m coming over tonight with lasagne in a tinfoil tray. Preheat your oven now. I’ll be round at 7. Love you, bye.”

“Bye. Love you too,” Brooke raises her eyebrows as she hangs up the phone. She remembers when she used to sign off like that all the time.

***

Brooke remembers those days of being in love with Vanessa, when the sex was passionate and gentle and full of fire and tenderness all at once. She remembers how it felt to look at her for as long as she wanted, taking in each glossy thread of hair, each small speckle of colour in her eyes, each individual and perfectly curled eyelash. Vanessa would always laugh at Brooke when she did that, telling her she was a creep, to stop staring at her. Now Brooke wishes she’d looked just a second longer, because she’s clearly not committed it all to memory.

She decides to go into the office. What else can she do? Yvie is annoying, but she’s right, Brooke can’t just sit and wallow. Or she could, but there’s case files that need updating and Brooke can either be sad at home lying in bed or sad at work doing something productive. Sad is the wrong emotion, she supposes. Empty is maybe more accurate. She is past the point of sad. Sad had happened when they’d had that argument and Brooke had played her trump card, best card in the pack at the time. Now she knows it had been a tarot card in disguise, the fool, and Brooke hadn’t at all known what her future would hold. She still doesn’t.

She walks into her office, past people that used to fear her, respect her. Perhaps they still do, but Brooke can still see the glint of sympathy in their eyes, hear the note of pity their voices hold. Brooke says good morning to Nicky, her new secretary. She hasn’t fired her yet, probably won’t ever fire a secretary again no matter how horrendous they are. Vanessa never came back after that day and Brooke doesn’t blame her, but she hopes she’s found another job. Nicky, she supposes, isn’t horrendous. She’s efficient and calm and obedient. Brooke knows she’s attractive too, and for a moment she allows herself to wonder if there is a parallel universe where she’s sought out a relationship with Nicky instead. Maybe a bit of random fucking with a pretty girl could take her mind off everything. Brooke laughs to herself in her office. She’s clearly losing it.

Detox comes in around half an hour later. Brooke’s done no work, simply staring at an excel spreadsheet and feeling her eyes glaze over but being unable to work up the motivation needed to blink. Detox puts a cup of coffee down on her desk and Brooke lets out a laugh.

“Jesus Christ, D. I’m not dying.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Seen happier faces at a fucking wake,” Detox jibes softly, pushes the cup closer to Brooke. “How are you today?”

Brooke leans back in her chair, swears she catches the scent of Vanessa’s perfume. It is gone almost as quickly as it had appeared and all Brooke is left with is approximately 45,000 memories, none of which she wants. “I’m shit. But I think that might be my new normal, I’ve felt like shit for so long. So I guess shit is the new fine. Therefore I’m fine.”  

Detox exhales through her nose, the hint of a humoured smile playing on her lips. “The old you would be beating you up and taking your lunch money if she heard you talking like that.”

“Believe me, I’ve already beaten myself up enough.”

Detox gives a heavy sigh of frustration, shifts from one foot to the other. “You need to sort your shit out, Brooke.”

“What are you, my Mom?” Brooke snaps back, now as frustrated as her friend. She wants to be left alone to stew in her own lack of emotions. Detox doesn’t relent.

“Look, I’m gonna give you two choices. Number one, you accept that everything’s over with Vanessa, that you fucked it, that you’ve made your bed and now you need to lie in it. But from what I can see of how you’re acting just now, you don’t want to do that.”

“No, I’m not fucking doing that,” Brooke sighs, tearing her hands down her face and wishing Detox would leave.

“Second option is, you start a constant campaign of non-stop attempts to win V back. Flowers, texts, cards, we’re talking borderline Joe from You.”

“Of course you watch that trash.”

“But you get the point?” Detox persists, annoying incarnate. “Brooke, you can’t…you can’t go on living like this. It’s been over a month, it feels like I’ve lost this bitch that used to be my friend.”

Brooke supposes she has lost her sense of self. She goes through her days without showing a single emotion, instead preferring to let them all out in the courtroom, raining down upon witnesses relentlessly as if every case has been a personal experience. She’s won her past six in a row and she puts it down to the fact that she now focuses every single fibre of being that she possesses into her career and job and work and anything that doesn’t have to involve emotions whatsoever.

“Look, I’ll..I’ll think about it, alright?” Brooke waves her away, rubs her forehead long-sufferingly. The whole thing is annoying her, becoming less of a heartbreak and more of a headache.

Detox smiles and punches the air. “That’s my girl. Have a think. Right, I’ll leave you alone. See you later.”

Have a think. Brooke wants to laugh. She hasn’t been able to stop thinking since the day Vanessa left.

***

Brooke misses her.

She misses the way Vanessa just got her humour like no-one else did. When she’d have a client waiting for her and Vanessa would send her her first impression or opinion of them in advance, and then Brooke would have to hold in her laughter for the duration of her meeting because holy fuck yes, the woman’s hat did make her look like a bat and combined with her cloak it did make her look like the villain in a superhero movie.

She misses the way that Vanessa had sort-of-not-quite-not-officially moved in with her. Some of her clothes are still strewn around the apartment: a pair of black heels left by the door that she’d worn out to dinner with her, an emerald green lace underwear set that had fallen underneath the bed and Brooke had stuck in her washer-dryer, the cosy pyjamas that lived under one of Brooke’s pillows folded not-quite-neatly and covered in creases, and a white silk shirt that Vanessa had worn to work and Brooke had peeled off her when they’d arrived home, pressing kisses to her bare collarbones, chest and stomach. Vanessa used to crash her way through the apartment and often Brooke wondered if it was her mission to make as much noise as possible as she loaded the dishwasher, hoovered the living room, sang off-key in the shower. Brooke’s apartment has been so deathly quiet since she left, a funeral sort of quiet. Mournful and still and ghostly and cold.

Sometimes Brooke is sure she sees in black and white.

She remembers the day when they told each other they loved each other for the first time. There had been no ceremony, no grand gestures. In fact the pair of them were watching a film on Brooke’s couch- The Little Mermaid 2, Vanessa eager to force her love of Disney sequels onto her girlfriend. Brooke had looked away from the TV just for a moment, just to see Vanessa’s reaction to whatever was happening on screen, and when she lay her eyes on her she felt that familiar feeling of falling hit her like a wave all over again. It had happened quite a few times that fortnight or so, and the urge to tell her grew with every moment they shared together. Brooke watched her smile like a dork at the TV, the light in her eyes shining and the good in her heart visible just by looking at her. Brooke had laced their hands together, Vanessa taken by surprise and meeting her gaze with a funny sort of smile on her face. Her nose had crinkled up as she’d laughed at her.

“What?”

Brooke had pulled her close and kissed her without saying a word, trying to tell Vanessa without actually telling her anything. She was scared to say it first. She was scared to say it at all.

When Vanessa broke away, she gave Brooke a look that seemed to reach into her soul. Then she looked down at the blanket they’d thrown over them and gave a shy laugh.

“I wanna say something but I’m scared.”

Brooke still remembers the way her heart had beaten right out of her chest. If she tries she can still feel it.

“Say it. Say it, because I want to say it too.”

Vanessa had made eye contact again, her face nervous and hesitant, and Brooke wanted to kiss her fears away but that would have stopped her from saying what she wanted so desperately to hear.

“I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you.”

Almost as quickly as they’d said it they were pulling each other in, their lips meeting desperately as they melted into each other. And Brooke hadn’t taken her to bed and they hadn’t had passionate, lovestruck sex on the couch. They had sat and kissed on the sofa with the film playing in the background like teenagers, the feeling of being in love communicated without even having to say anything else.    

Brooke had finally understood why people in musicals randomly burst into song.

She wishes she had known the last time she’d said it to her would be the final time. She wishes she could say it to Vanessa again. It’s still true. She’s still in love with her. She had fallen so hard.

The trouble with falling is that she had to hit the concrete eventually.

***

Another day goes by and a new one begins. Nicky comes in at half past nine with Brooke’s coffee. Vanessa always used to have it sitting out for her when Brooke arrived, a little heart drawn in the foam with caramel syrup making the coffee too sweet, just like her. Brooke can forgive Nicky, though. She suffered through another sleepless night and she needs the coffee more than she needs a lot of things. Doing her makeup this morning had been like painting a corpse, and Brooke tries not to feel embarrassed as she takes in Nicky’s perfectly painted face in contrast to her own. She thanks her, takes the cup and assumes Nicky will leave.

“Ms. Hytes,” Nicky says, surprising her. She stands in front of her desk, her brow furrowed in concern. “You’re hurting.”

Brooke almost drops her coffee cup in surprise. In days of old she would’ve fired a secretary on the spot for having the audacity to address her in such a way, make such an assumption, but Brooke is tired. She can’t be bothered to deny it, it would take more energy than to simply admit it. She deals in facts, and it is a fact after all. “Yes, Nicky, I am.”

Nicky pouts a little sympathetically. There is a pause in which Brooke assumes she’ll leave. She doesn’t. Instead she speaks again. “Who was the girl that broke your heart?”

Brooke can only blink back at her, her eyelids heavy from lack of sleep. She could tell Nicky to go back to her desk, she supposes, to get on with her work. But she’s in a rare mood to talk about things, so Brooke cracks a small, indulgent smile. “And how do you know it was a girl?”

“Men can’t break hearts like women can,” Nicky says softly, philosophically. Brooke isn’t sure she’s right but she supposes she’s never had any experience with men to disprove the theory. She sighs, nodding.

“Yeah, it was a girl. Her name was Vanessa,” Brooke says, the name feeling too clunky and odd in her mouth where once it had felt like a prayer. “I guess she didn’t break my heart. I broke hers and then by proxy I broke my own. It was a stupid mistake, we had a fight and…things were said that I regret but she still won’t talk to me. And fair enough, why the fuck would she?”

Nicky nods slowly, wraps her arms around herself to give herself a hug. “I have the same. Uh, I am escaping a girl who broke my heart. But even though she hurt me, I still love her. How does that work?”

“Because emotions are stupid and they don’t work in a logical way,” Brooke shrugs instantly. She’s had a lot of time to think about the subject. Looking at Nicky, she can see the pain behind her eyes, the hurt behind the calm facade of her perfect makeup. “Who was your girl?”

Nicky smiles sadly, nostalgia getting the better of her. “She was named Jaida. She was a model, like I used to be. I don’t wish to talk about her much. It’s still sore."

"Yeah. It’s still sore for me too.”

“You say you broke Vanessa’s heart?” Nicky asks shyly. The words are like a stab through Brooke’s chest, confirming the whole thing, validating it. Brooke nods wordlessly. Nicky gives a small laugh. “Then probably she still loves you too. Like me for Jaida.”

Brooke laughs, disbelieving even though she’d be lying if she said Nicky’s words don’t strike even the tiniest bit of hope into her heart. “No, I think that ship has sailed, Nicky.”

Nicky raises her eyebrows, shrugs. “You should call her.”

“Tried that.”

“Well, call her again,” Nicky persists, her voice calm and relaxed despite her insisting. “I wait for my call from Jaida every day."

Brooke feels sad for the young girl. She’s clearly lived so much of her life already at such a young age- she’s from France, but her CV stated that she moved to America to work in the modelling industry, which clearly didn’t work out if she’s making coffee for Brooke. "You should go back into modelling. You’re wasted here.”

Nicky frowns. “I am a waste…of space?”

Brooke laughs at the misunderstanding, waving her hands and shaking her head in protest. It’s the first genuine laugh she’s had in a long time. “No, no, no, no, God no! Wrong expression. Um…you’re too good at modelling to be working as a secretary. You have too nice a face.”

Nicky blushes, making Brooke’s face hot too. She hopes her compliment didn’t come out wrong. Nicky is smiling again, the regret plain on her face. “I would love to, but I would risk meeting her again and I am not ready for that.”

Brooke’s face contorted. “But you want her to call you?”

Nicky sighs, scuffs her foot. “It’s different when you have her in front of you and she’s beautiful."

Brooke shrugs in agreement. "That’s fair enough.”

Nicky lingers, tilts her head thoughtfully. “Can I do anything to help, Ms. Hytes?”

The Parisian lilt to Nicky’s voice makes everything sound like a proposition, even though Brooke doesn’t think she means it. She knows that she could probably have Nicky in her bed by the end of the day if she wanted to- they’re both hurting and broken hearted and yearning to be needed and wanted again, and Nicky is gorgeous but it’s not Nicky she wants. Her porcelain skin just reminds Brooke of Vanessa’s in contrast, her neat blonde hair brushed carefully into its bun reminds her of how wild and loose Vanessa’s used to be, her blue eyes remind her of Vanessa’s dark ones. Brooke shakes her head, gives a tight smile of gratitude. “No, Nicky. Thank you for this, but I think we’d both better get back to work.”

Nicky smiles in agreement, giving a little nod as she exits Brooke’s office and takes a seat back at her desk. Brooke looks at her phone in its place on her desk, reaches out to take it. She scrolls to Vanessa’s name in her contacts and hovers her finger over it, millimetres separating her from potentially hearing her voice again.

She discards her phone onto her desk and opens an email.

***

They had been the best months of Brooke’s life. She couldn’t stop telling Vanessa how much she loved her once she’d started and Vanessa couldn’t seem to either. They were the worst kind of honeymoon phase couple, or perhaps the best. Detox had cooed over them like a mother hen and Brooke had let her guard down a bit at work. Well, a lot. She’d loved being able to show Vanessa off as her girlfriend, she’d loved being able to kiss her throughout the day, squeeze her hand as she showed a new client into her office. They would exchange ridiculously soppy emails during meetings. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

Brooke has spent so long blaming the business trip, blaming Priyanka, blaming Vanessa, blaming her work, blaming the distance. It was none of them. It was her fault. She did all of it.

Brooke had flown out to Florida for the weekend. There was a conference that her law firm had to attend there, Detox was speaking. Brooke had been looking forward to it as she knew one of her old friends from her Law degree would be there. She hadn’t seen Priyanka in ages; she was still based in Canada and practising there, but they still texted and when they’d found out they were both going Brooke had been excited. Priyanka is one of those rare exes that’s still a friend, their breakup back in their early twenties being a mutual decision, and Brooke knows there’s no attraction there anymore.

But of course, Vanessa didn’t.

Brooke should’ve done more to reassure her, she knows this. If she looks back she can see how agitated Vanessa had been during the leadup to the conference for a full week- biting her perfectly manicured nails, a small frown on her face without her knowing, moments where she’d stare off into space. Vanessa knew about Priyanka (they’d both talked about their exes) but Brooke had told her it had been amicable and mutual. Besides, she told Vanessa how much she loved her every single day. It wasn’t as if Brooke had hidden the fact that Priyanka was going to be there that weekend, or shielded her phone when they’d been texting each other. She’d had nothing to hide.

Brooke almost wishes she had been more secretive now. Maybe it would’ve changed things.

The conference had been fun, even though Brooke now holds it in the same regard as the beginning of a horror movie, the calm before the cyclone. She’d phoned Vanessa when she had arrived, eager to reassure her but she could still hear the worry in her tone, the anxiety. Still, it hadn’t stopped her meeting up for drinks with Priyanka that evening in the hotel bar, laughing and chatting like they’d always used to and doing silly Boomerangs with the cocktails they’d ordered. Brooke told her all about Vanessa and Priyanka was thrilled for her, saying how excited she was to one day meet her. Brooke had got her phone out to show her some photos when Priyanka had looked at her own and gave a little exclamation of surprise.

“Oh! Is her nickname Vanjie?”

Brooke had narrowed her eyes, watching as Priyanka scrolled. “Yeah, why?”

“She’s watched my Insta story already. Doesn’t follow me though. Probably just doesn’t want to be weird,” Priyanka had shrugged. Brooke had shrugged back, offhandedly agreeing but internally embarrassed. She’d known why Vanessa had watched her story- she’d been checking up on her. Brooke hadn’t liked that.

When she’d arrived home, everything gradually came crumbling down, the pair of them slowly removing the Jenga blocks of their relationship one at a time. Their hug had been off when they’d seen each other again, their conversation had been the small talk of strangers. And then it had happened. Vanessa had brought up Priyanka, Brooke had brought up the Instagram stalking. Vanessa had brought up how weird she found it that she still wanted to hang out with an ex, Brooke had defended herself and told her they were only friends. Vanessa had expressed how worried she’d been, Brooke had been hurt.

“When have I ever given you reason to be worried?”

“Well shit, when you met up with your ex for drinks?”

Brooke had hit out, called Vanessa out on her jealousy.

“Well maybe I do get jealous! But it’s only ‘cuz I don’t ever want to lose you, fuck, I just don’t want to think about you with anybody else, that’s all!”

“But you don’t have to! Priyanka is my friend, that’s it, that’s all there is to it!” Brooke remembers how irritated she’d been, how exasperated. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you! Of course I trust you. I just don’t trust her,” Vanessa had sighed frustratedly, pulled another block out.

“Well I’m not going to just not see one of my friends for the rest of our relationship, V!”

“So you’re choosing her over me? That it?” Vanessa had questioned. Brooke still remembers the tears in her eyes. She’d known Vanessa hadn’t meant to say that, she knew Vanessa knew she was being unreasonable. But Brooke had reacted instantly, thinking in absolutes, or perhaps not thinking entirely.

“Fuck, Vanessa, well if it’s that black and fucking white to you then what the hell are we doing anyway?” she’d yelled, the finality still hurting her if she thinks about it. The raised tensions in the room had come to a boiling point. Vanessa had gone quiet.

“What are you saying?”

Brooke had committed and she was still angry, still frustrated. She’d doubled down. “Why the hell are we doing this if there’s no trust in our relationship?”

The realisation had dawned slowly and sickly like tar over Vanessa’s face. “You’re saying you want to break up?”

Brooke hadn’t replied, only stared at the floor. Vanessa had taken it as an answer.

She’d left.

Brooke had regretted it, but she’d known they would make amends. It had just been a silly argument, and things had been said that neither of them meant. She still loved her. They still loved each other. Brooke had given it an hour, waited for her to cool off before she called her to apologise.

Vanessa hadn’t picked up.

Brooke’s still waiting on her to call back.

***

Brooke is ten minutes away from a firm meeting when she gets the text.

V: i’ll be at Rialtos for the next hour

V: your move i guess

She doesn’t even think about the decision, simply acts. She asks Nicky to send her apologies, tell the director that she’s had to go home with stomach pains. If she gets a disciplinary it’ll be worth the risk. She crashes out of her office like a tsunami, her bag and her coat swinging wildly from the crook of her arm. Rialto’s is a five minute walk from her office but she makes it in three even in her stilettos. It’s only when she sees it on the corner on the sidewalk opposite that an overwhelming feeling of panic and sickness hits her like a gut punch. She’s been waiting for this moment for the past month-and-twelve-days (she’s counted), but now that it’s here she almost doesn’t know what to do. She’s never felt nerves like this- all of her nerve endings are buzzing like broken strobe lights and every time her heart beats her whole body feels it. It had been different the first time they were supposed to meet up and talk things out because Brooke had been there first, she could sit for a while and psych herself up. But this time Brooke knows that Vanessa is sitting at a table in the bar just across the street, and all that’s separating them is a busy road, a door and a few steps. Brooke steels herself, forces herself to take a few deep breaths as she checks her reflection in the shop window beside her. She looks a fright: no makeup, sleep-deprived bags under her eyes, the only thing remotely presentable about her is her hair which she threw into a low ponytail that morning. Then again, she supposes that Vanessa’s seen her without makeup before. Brooke thinks Vanessa’s seen every possible version of her, apart from of course this one. She takes another deep breath, turns around and stares the bar down as if she’s going to war.

It’s time.

Brooke dashes across the road and it crosses her mind that perhaps it would be better to just let fate take its course and get hit by a yellow taxi, but that’s the coward’s way out so she reaches the bar entranceway, pushes the door open with a huge, held-in breath. Rialto’s is dark inside with dim red lighting, and so even at four in the afternoon it seems as if it’s midnight. There’s red booths with black lacquered tables that shine under the crimson of the lamps positioned above them and the walls are covered in framed pictures, none of which Brooke takes in because she’s searching, slowly yet frantically as if she’s attempting to both prolong and speed up this whole situation. One booth near to her to her right holds a cheerful couple, another on her far left houses an old man drinking a cup of coffee.

And then she sees her.

She’s got her back to the door but Brooke recognises the wave of her blonde hair, the tie-dye of the oversized hoodie she’s wearing. She recognises the acrylic nails and the chunky rings that pattern the hand that’s curled around what looks like a French martini on the table. A searing, painful memory of their first date at Le Bernardin wrenches Brooke’s heart. She takes another deep breath and walks forward even though she feels like she’s going to be sick. She stops just at the table and the breath is knocked out of her lungs.

Vanessa looks up at her, her face impassive. Her makeup is perfect, but then Brooke wouldn’t have expected anything else. There’s dark roots at her side parting but Brooke thinks she somehow suits them. Apart from that she looks exactly the same, just how Brooke remembers her.

“Hi,” Brooke greets her feebly. Vanessa somehow communicates a shrug through a blink.

“Hey,” she says, taking her hand off her glass to gesture to the seat opposite her. “Sit.”

Brooke nods as she sits down in the red leather seat, and it’s only then that she notices there’s a second cocktail opposite Vanessa. It looks like a pornstar martini, it’s one of Brooke’s favourites.

“I ordered you one. Figured it might make this easier,” Vanessa explains. Her expression doesn’t break. Brooke is touched by the gesture.

“Thanks,” she says. Her hands shake as she reaches out to take the glass, sips at it and feels the sweetness of the vanilla vodka and the tang of the passionfruit coat her dry mouth. Her stomach’s still churning as Vanessa sits regarding her for a moment. Brooke wants to say something. She wants to immediately apologise for it all, even though she’s left twelve voicemails and twenty texts saying the same thing. She wants to ask how Vanessa is, even though that would be the most idiotic of things to say. Eventually she decides to lead with a compliment.

“You look great.”

Vanessa sniffs. “You don’t.”

Brooke takes the hit, supposes she deserves it. “I’ve not been sleeping great.”

“Yeah. Yvie’s mentioned,” Vanessa looks down at her lap, blinks. When she looks up again she’s clearly ready to speak, and Brooke’s heart is in her mouth. “So, we need to talk properly.”

“Yes.”

Vanessa looks down at the table, then into Brooke’s eyes. Brooke can tell she’s having a hard time doing so. “Uh, first off I wanna say sorry.”

The apology knocks Brooke for six. She feels herself frown involuntarily. “For what?”

“Well, it was wrong of me to try an’ make you choose between me and your friend. I knew it was wrong the moment I said it but I was jealous, an’ I was hurt. But that don’t excuse it, so I’m sorry.”  

Brooke shakes her head. She’d been annoyed at Vanessa for that at the time, and she’d have maybe appreciated an apology a month ago, but just now it only seems trivial in the grand scheme of things. “Vanessa, you don’t…you don’t need to apologise for this situation.”

Vanessa narrows her eyes at her and there’s a warning look in her gaze, so Brooke drops her protests and shrugs a little. “But I accept your apology.”

Vanessa nods, clearly following some internal script. Brooke is happy to go along with it, to play her part and say her lines, whatever they’re meant to be. She’s so used to immediately taking control of every situation she finds herself in, and even though her stomach feels sick and she feels as if she’s in an interrogation room she doesn’t mind playing the role of the witness and letting Vanessa be the lawyer for a change. She supposes she is on trial in some way.

“Now…I know that you’re sorry, you’ve made that pretty clear, so I don’t want another apology from you,” Vanessa begins, and part of Brooke doesn’t like that because she does want to say sorry, but maybe that’s just for her own benefit and not Vanessa’s. Vanessa sighs as she continues, looks down at her drink and this time doesn’t break eye contact. “But I need you to know how much you hurt me.”

Brooke winces. She realises Vanessa’s waiting for confirmation. “Okay.”

Vanessa pauses, and the breath she takes is shaky before she speaks again. “I…loved you so much, Brooke Lynn.”

The past tense slices Brooke in half.

“I never loved anyone like that before in my life. An’ I always thought you were too good to be true, like somehow one day I’d wake up and our whole relationship would be a dream. I never stopped tellin’ you how lucky I was or how much I appreciated you or how much I loved you. An’ you never stopped tellin’ me either. You made me feel so loved, an’ so precious, an’ so…fuck, sorry.”

Vanessa’s tone grows frustrated, anger layering with the tears Brooke can see in her eyes as she tips her head up, swipes at them like a tiger to wipe them away. Brooke thinks her heart might be breaking again, halves into quarters.

“An’ so that day, when we had that fight,” Vanessa continues, staring steadfastly at Brooke. “All of that, everything we had…it was like it didn’t matter anymore? Like everything we’d shared an’ everything I’d told you an’ everything you’d told me…like, what, that was all for nothing?”

“It wa-”

“Just lemme get this out, please,” Vanessa puts a hand up, stops her. “It was like everything I knew about you was just…nothing. I didn’t know you anymore. An’ I know it was a stupid fight and we shoulda been able to work that shit out, but…I was hurt. I’m still hurting. You hurt me.”

Vanessa stops. She’s done. Brooke wants to cry. She swallows the feeling down before she speaks.

“I behaved like a dick. And I said stupid things, but by the time they were out I couldn’t take them back. I didn’t mean any of it, Vanessa, I just…opened my mouth and said whatever got there first. That’s my fault, I know that. And I know I’ve apologised before but I haven’t had the chance to do it in person, so I’m honestly so sorry for hurting you. For making it seem like our relationship meant nothing to me. Like you meant nothing to me. You mean the world to me, you still do,” Brooke sighs, trying to make the deep breath she takes to stave off her tears subtle. She can’t meet Vanessa’s eyes when there’s tears in her own so she fixes her gaze on the passionfruit half floating in her drink as she continues. “And you don’t have to accept it, just as long as you hear it.”

“I know,” Vanessa says instantly. She looks calmer now she’s said her piece and heard Brooke’s, and she takes a sip from the two little black straws sticking out of the martini glass. She suddenly rolls her eyes, a bitter smile spreading across her face. “Fuck you, Brooke Lynn.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I mean…fuck you for making me still love you. Fuck me for still loving you,” Vanessa sighs, resigned. The words make Brooke’s heart give a leap and she can’t help the smile she instantly tries to suppress and fails. Vanessa narrows her eyes at her, her expression turning serious. “But that don’t mean I forgive you.”

“I know. You don’t have to,” Brooke says guiltily. She thinks about saying it, wonders if it’ll guilt-trip Vanessa and she doesn’t want that, but indulgently and selfishly she says it anyway. “I still love you. I never stopped.”

Vanessa winces as if she’s been shot, her expression instantly turning into one of discomfort and her eyes squeezing shut. Brooke frowns. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologising, Christ. You’re so fuckin’ Canadian,” Vanessa sighs exasperatedly as she puts her head in her hands, and Brooke probably would’ve laughed if she hadn’t been trying to repair the most important relationship of her life so far. Brooke feels awkward and she’s in this conversation without a map, unsure which direction it’s going in.

“Where do we go from here?”

Vanessa drains her glass, foam and syrup all that’s left. She leans back in her chair and folds her arms over. There’s a tiny smile that’s back on her face, and it makes Brooke’s hopes start to climb.

“Well,” she shrugs a little, her guard still up but ever so slightly lowered. “You can start by buyin’ me another drink an’ we can take it from there.”

Brooke nods, grabs her purse and almost sprints to the bar. She orders another French martini and another pornstar- she thinks she’ll be needing it. As she waits for their drinks and the sound of ice in a cocktail shaker cuts through the air, Brooke sneaks a look at Vanessa in the booth. She’s so gorgeous. Brooke’s happy to see her again, despite the circumstances. Just as she makes to turn back around, Vanessa’s head snaps up from the phone in her hand and their eyes meet.

Vanessa’s gaze is soft and the small smile on her face is warm.

Maybe they’re going to be okay.

[btswrckd]

Hunting a Hybrid V

Black Panther!Hybrid Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Summary: Four years after it’s made illegal to acquire hybrids as pets, you’re approached by the daughter of your former employer to hunt down one that had been gifted to her

Warnings: slight violence, mentions of past abuse, poorly written smut

A/N: A lot is happening this chapter and it’s not as clean as I hoped it would be but tomorrow is Christmas and I really wanted it to be up. As you guys know, I’ve been busy with a new job and didn’t have much time to work on this fic but I’m hoping you guys will enjoy anyways. Also if you’re like me and love to listen to music while reading, I was listening to Can You Hold Me by NF and Dynasty by Miia. Much love!

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The red and blue lights flickered against the beige house, illuminating it and many others around. People, neighbors, stood along the street in a crowd and a few women breaking off into their own little cliques to whisper amongst themselves. Hands covered their mouths as if they weren’t so obviously speaking of the swarm of cop cars parked outside your home, their husbands off to the side and speculating just what the hell was going on. 

Sangchul stood gruff with crossed arms, nodding his head at the information being passed on to him by one of the few officers on the scene. His shoulders stiff at the sound of your voice, scream piercing through the crowd and footsteps heavy as they pounded against the asphalt behind him.

You were late coming home, 15 year old you grumbling and kicking rocks along the path you walked, Yoongi at your side and teasing you for losing track of time. Pouting as he ruffled your hair and said to be careful gathering your things, you shook your head and gave his shoulder a light punch. You noticed him wince slightly and dropped your head in apology; ever since training with your grandfather, both you and Yoongi noticed how strong you came to be, but this is what Sangchul had taught you to be and Yoongi never questioned it aloud. Not that you’d tell him the truth anyways.

“What the hell is that?” You asked, noticing the red and blue flashing lights just up the street. You noticed the mob of people as they turned to look at you with sympathy, anxiety creeping your spine and your stomach dropping to your feet. Bile rose in your throat with each step you took, the chatter and people fading into the back as you neared the house surrounded by police officers and an ambulance. The door looked as if it had been kicked in, the wood splintered from the force, and covered in yellow ‘caution’ tape. Your breath shuttered as you stepped off the curb, taking note of your mother’s car in the driveway. “Mom?”

Yoongi tried to snag your elbow before you went any further but his own father had clapped a hand to his shoulder, shaking his head in response to Yoongi’s glare. His head whipped back around at your shrill scream, the word ‘Mom’ being screeched so loud it made a few cops jump and try their best to stop you from going into the house. 

Stumbling as your knees gave in, you allowed yourself to be caught by the officer standing with your grandfather, hot tears streaming down your face when the paramedics stepped out the front door with a gurney and what you prayed was not your mother in a body bag. “Mom!” 

The officer winced when you clawed at his arms to break free from his embrace, nails digging into his skin but his hold was strong, tears springing to his eyes at hearing you cry out to your mother like a lost child. His bottom lip trembled at your tear stained face, throat raw from screaming and body going limp with exhaustion, he whispered his apologies into your hair. He knew better than to become emotionally involved but you were still just a kid whose own grandfather wasn’t doing much to comfort you. As he turned to shoot a glare in Sangchul’s direction, his grip faltered and you broke away from him to sprint into the house.

Other officers tried to restrain you, but you were quicker than them, more agile in your movements to dodge their hands. Finally reaching the front door, the bile in your throat came out full force at the sight of blood, too much blood to be just your mother’s. The red splattered across the walls painted a very gory image of what could have happened, your father’s body finally catching your eye and giving you a glimpse of what looked like claw marks.

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You sat up quickly, short of breath and feeling as though someone had been trying to smother you in your sleep. Sweat clung to your still naked body and soaked your sheets making you grimace and throw them from your body. Leaning over the bed, you slipped on a bra, panties, and a tank top. The rustling of sheets alerted you to Jungkook also coming to and jumping up in panic when he couldn’t feel your body beside his. 

“Hey,” His voice was soft and comforting as he felt your nerves on overdrive, your anxiety seeping out in waves. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” You lied, trying your best to calm the rapid beating of your heart and rising from the bed to cross the room, “Just a nightmare.”

“Another one?” Jungkook was understandably concerned, he himself waking with night terrors, but none leaving him as shaken. Even before his parents’ deaths, he had always been treated badly because he was a hybrid so he learned to adapt. But something about your nightmares made him uneasy, the need to protect you from them greater than anything he’s ever felt. 

“Kook,” Your voice broke through his thoughts as you faced the dresser and braced your palms against it, “Do you want to know why I became a hunter?”

He held his breath and stared at your back, watching your shoulders tense and arms tremble, signs that you were crying. It left an ache in his chest.

You took in a huge breath before turning to face him, leaning back against the dresser, and closing your eyes to recall that very night so long ago. “The night my parents died, I had been out with Yoongi because I was going to stay the weekend at his house. My dad had business out of town and was forcing my mom to go with him. When I got home that night, there was all kinds of cop cars up and down our block, and our neighbors were standing around outside. They crowded our house...” You couldn’t finish your sentence, the words dying on your tongue and the memories so vivid it was as if it all happened yesterday.

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“Y/N,” Sangchul’s voice caused a shiver to run down your spine, blood running ice cold at the lack of emotion in his tone. Of course he didn’t care that his only son and daughter-in-law were just murdered. Why would he?

You were on your knees, hands braced on the floor as you heaved, the acidic taste of vomit still present in your mouth. Eyes shut tight and the pain squeezing your chest, you shook your head as if it were going to erase the images.

“Y/N,” Sangchul’s tone was harsh as he tried to get your attention by gripping your elbow tight and tugging you to your feet, turning your body to face him. “Calm yourself.”

You looked at him as if he’d grown two heads, disgusted and confused by what he meant.  Hot tears streamed down your face while you scoffed, “Calm myself? Do you see what’s happened here? Are you blind?!”

“Do not,” He hissed and brought your face close to his, “speak to me that way. Of course I see what’s happened. Your parents were attacked by a beast.”

“A beast that looks both man and animal,” Sangchul clarified when your brows drew together, not yet processing what he was saying, “A hybrid, Y/N. One of those things did this to my son and your mother.”

“No,” You shook your head, refusing to believe any of it, “No, one would never. Hybrids...they’re not like this.”

“Yes they are. They’re savages whose violent nature cannot be tamed. Hybrid’s are unnatural and have no place in this world. And one did this to your home.”

“No!” You pushed at your grandfather’s chest hard, bringing your hands to your hair to tug at the strands as if trying to pull them all out. “No, it’s not true!”

Sangchul quickly engulfed you in a hug if only to keep you from causing more of a scene, “Of course it is, Y/N. They did this and we will find it. You will make it pay for what it has done.”

“The p-police will handle it, grandpa,” You pulled back, bringing your hand to your face to wipe away the tears, “can we please just go?”

“The police?” Sangchul growled and placed his large hands on your shoulders, comforting to an outsider but a warning to you, “You think any of these imbeciles will be able to find that hybrid? You think they’ll hold it accountable for what its done? No, Y/N, only you can make it pay. You deserve that much.”

“I don’t want to make him pay.”

“An eye for an eye, Y/N,” He insisted, grip tightening on your shoulders, “blood for blood, you know this. That’s the cardinal rule for hunters and you must uphold that.”

“I don’t want this.” You shook your head with fresh tears leaking down your cheeks and buried your face in your hands. “Please don’t make me.”

Sangchul was becoming frustrated, pulling you close once more to whisper, “You know what happened to your grandmother. You know a hybrid murdered her before you were even born and I never got the chance to see it hurt the same way I did. But you can. You can make it hurt just as bad and you’ll feel so much better once you do. I promise you, Y/N, that when it’s done and over with, you won’t even remember that hybrid. You’ll sleep peacefully knowing you avenged your parents.”

You never wanted to be that way, never wanted to hate the hybrid race because they were different and your grandfather despised them. You always believed hybrids were beautiful and misjudged simply because their appearance wasn’t of the normal standard. A chance encounter when you were a mere 5 years old convincing you that they meant no harm to anyone. You’d become lost in a crowd during your family’s weekly grocery shopping, becoming frightened of all the many strangers passing by without offering help to a little girl. Scurrying up and down aisles, panic began to settle in until you bumped into a friendly stranger with an even friendlier hybrid. The two helped you find your mother and the hybrid had playfully tapped your nose, making you giggle through the hiccups that developed while crying.

There was a raging hate your grandfather always carried for them and you never thought you could feel the same way...until now. You spared a glance at your father’s body being zipped into a black body bag just like your mother’s and decided...

Hybrids were not beautiful and they were not your friends, they were animals. Beasts that fooled you into believing they could be anything but what they were; feral and dangerous. You were wrong about them and you weren’t going to allow yourself to be blinded any longer.

Sangchul watched what little sliver of light you held die out. A smirk spread across his lips at the darkness swirling in your eyes, your jaw setting and nostrils flaring in rage. It was done; you were finally broken enough to train properly, to track and kill without remorse. You were finally ready to become the hunter Sangchul could never teach Donghoon to be.

“Everything okay over here?” The previous officer asked as Sangchul led you to his waiting car. His hands rested on his belt, studying you for any more signs of distress.

“Everything is fine, officer,” Your grandfather leaned in to read his name badge, “Kim. Ah, a fine name. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must take my granddaughter somewhere safe.”

“Of course,” Officer Kim nodded but never took his eyes off you, wanting so badly to prevent that from happening. He waited until your eyes finally met his to say, “I’m very sorry, sweetheart. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call and ask for me, okay?”

He had known your mother for quite some time now after he answered a domestic abuse call some months back. Officer Kim approached her discreetly and asked for the real story, and once the truth was out, he began to help build a case against your father. He was the only one convinced that a hybrid couldn’t do any of this but the evidence suggested otherwise. Something about all of it, including Sangchul’s odd behavior didn’t sit well with him.

“And we thank you for the offer,” Sangchul answered before you could, “But that’s what I’m here for. Come now,” He gathered your hand in his and led you away from what was no longer your home. Glancing back at you, he stopped a long time acquaintance on the force that was on the scene and leaned in close to whisper something into the detective’s ear, slipping a rather hefty roll of money into the man’s hand. 

“Where are we going?” You asked when he joined you in the car, eyes peering suspiciously at that same detective stopping officer Kim from getting any closer to the car. “Why did you just slip that detective money?”

“We have to leave town,” Sangchul sighed heavily, “and we won’t be able to return for a very long time. That detective is doing me a favor by making sure we’ll never be found.”

“Why aren’t we staying here to catch the hybrid?”

“You’re not ready,” He explained through grit teeth, frustrated at your series of questions. “Training every once in a while after school isn’t enough anymore. You need more time.”

“And exactly how do you suppose we find it if we don’t stick around?”

“You will,” Your grandfather promised eerily, “once you’re training is over, you’ll find it.”

Twisting around in your seat, you searched for Yoongi, finding him trying to chase the car down with no luck, his legs nearly giving out as your grandfather pressed harder on the gas pedal. You could see him cup his hands around his mouth to shout something, but you never heard what it was, instead lifting your hand to wave goodbye.

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

“My parents,” You continued, “weren’t a happy couple. My dad would beat my mother every night. Just because he could. He liked making my mother feel inferior, making her feel as if she was nothing. Donghoon was a man that strived on the fear of others, especially her.”

Jungkook waited with bated breath, the realization that you were about to bare all for him, your past, finally sinking in.

Pushing away from the dresser, you faced him and caught the pity in his eyes and you almost laughed; Jungkook had very obviously endured more than you ever have and yet he still felt sorry for you. You never shared your story with anyone, not even Taehyung, and a small part of you was ashamed that you’d kept it from him. You trusted Taehyung with your life but why you chose to keep your past a secret was still a mystery to you. You supposed it was more that you never had anyone to share it with until Tae, but could never bring yourself to do so after seeing the fear in his eyes from one of the many jobs you pulled.

“He abused alcohol, my mother, drugs,” You tugged on the end of your hair, a nervous habit Jungkook picked up on, and let out a mocking laugh, “Never me though. No, I...I was too precious to hurt. But my mom, the woman who birthed me, she was okay to toss around like a ragdoll.”

“Did you ever,” Jungkook wasn’t sure what he was trying to ask, just that he needed to speak, “tell anyone?”

“No,” Finally settling on the bed, your hair fell in your face to hide the feeling of shame at keeping it a secret. “You see, just because my dad never hit me didn’t mean I wasn’t scared of him. He had so much power because was so successful in everything he did. Accusing him of something like that...it would have never worked in mine and my mother’s favors. No one would have believed us but I guess that never stopped my mom from trying.”

“Somewhere along the many, many years of abuse, she finally had enough courage to tell someone and started gathering evidence against him. I never found out who helped her, but my dad caught wind of it because my grandfather had ears everywhere. A detective found the file on my father and told him all about it. That night Donghoon went home...he killed my mom. I guess after his rage induced outburst he saw what he had done and for a split second, felt remorse. But then, panic set in and he didn’t want to have to face what he’d done or the kind of questions to come if he were to call the police. So, like a coward, he called my grandfather to cover it up and make plans for us to disappear.”

Jungkook felt sick to his stomach, he’d seen plenty of humans do some disgraceful and vile things but none quite like your father.

“My grandfather said he wouldn’t clean up my father’s mess for him.” Your eyes glossed over with tears, gaze still on the floor and it was like you were in a trance as you told Jungkook everything. “He took that same hammer Donghoon used on my mom and killed his own son. If you thought my dad was awful, Sangchul...he was a different kind of evil. He took a knife and slashed up their bodies to look like claw marks. Any untrained eye would believe the story he told about a hybrid breaking into the house. That night, he was able to convince me that hybrid’s were just things. That they deserved to be hunted just like any other animal.”

“If you knew,” Jungkook tried to process what he’d just heard, tried to understand why you never said anything and feeling a lump forming in the back of his throat, “why didn’t you tell the cops?”

“Sangchul was a master manipulator,” You explained, finally turning to him and bringing your legs onto the bed to rest your chin on your knees, “he always knew just what to say when he felt like I was slipping through his fingers. He was able to cloud my mind enough to hide what he was; a monster. It wasn’t until just after my 18th birthday that he told me what happened that night and what he’d done. He was really delusional enough to think that I would actually thank him. That I was enough like him to believe what he did was a favor. He was right to think I’m just as cruel because really, in a lot of ways I was. Am.”

Jungkook’s ears twitched when your voice dropped to a whisper, “I’ve only ever been taught to be one thing, Jungkook. And that’s never changed. The person I became is the person I will always be.”

His whole body stiffened, tail whipping back and forth and anger building in him. Anger at your father, your grandfather, and even you. Hunters tore his family apart and he thought it would be easy to forgive them, but your confession at being unable to change your habits made him sick. He moved away from you, hair covering his eyes and the way they glowed bright green.

“You have to understand something, Kook,” Your breath hitched at the distance he quickly created, watching his chest rise and fall in uneven breaths. “I kept hunting because Sangchul taught me that I could never trust anyone. Even after I learned the truth, that stayed with me. Those hybrids that I tracked down for people like Hyungsik, I never forgot them, not for one day. But I did what I thought I had to and I regret it all of the time. I know that trying to save them now won’t make up for what I’ve done.”

“Then why even bother trying?” He sneered, canines elongating and becoming visible at his irritation as he began to dress himself. “Most of them are dead already. You won’t be saving many from the prison you put them in. I understand that hunting them was a part of your past, but it doesn’t have to be now. You’re choosing to let it be because you’re scared that this might actually work and you don’t know how to handle being happy.”

Your gaze stayed on the bed sheets as Jungkook strode to the door and stormed out, choosing to stay put in the room and keep your distance. You understood why he was angry and took his harsh words without interruption because he was right. If everything worked and you were actually able to free the hybrids in Nam’s home, you’d no longer have a purpose. Hunting was your everything and without it, you didn’t know what to do with yourself, it’s why you agreed to hunt down Jungkook in the first place.

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

“Oh, you’re up.” Taehyung blinked at Jungkook stewing on the couch, tail bristled and ears flat against his head. He peered down the hall to your closed door as Seokjin came up behind him.

“Are you alright, Jungkook?” Seokjin questioned and shuffled to the panther carefully. “You seem agitated. What happened?”

“We got into an argument.” The younger boy explained simply and felt Taehyung’s defenses rise at the possibility of you being hurt again. “She’s okay. Physically, at least.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Taehyung took a step towards Jungkook but Seokjin put his hand up to stop him. 

“Not now, Taehyung,” He kept his voice level so as not to rile either boy up any further, “go check on Y/N and Jungkook and I will head back upstairs for a few days.”

Taehyung didn’t hesitate to turn on his heel and stalk down to your room, not even bothering to knock and instead let himself in.

“She said,” Jungkook began to tell Seokjin, “that she’ll always be a hunter. And that it won’t ever change.”

“Do you expect it to?” His senior asked seriously as he sat on the coffee table across from him, “Y/N has hunted for a very long time. Just as you’re a predator, in her own way, so is she. That nature isn’t easy to forget.”

“She’s not even going to try!” Jungkook huffed and ran his fingers through his long hair and hanging his head in defeat. 

“She’s willing to risk her life to free the hybrids in Hyungsik’s home, isn’t she?”

“But will it really be over?” He whispered more to himself than Seokjin, “Will she really just stop hunting because Hyungsik is in jail? If her nature can’t be forgotten...then was I wrong to trust her?”

“Jungkook,” Seokjin frowned and reached to pat the younger on his shoulder, “trusting Y/N will have been the best decision you made in the end. At least for me, it will be. Don’t forget that I too chose to work for Mr. Nam because I was desperate. You still trust me, don’t you?”

“I…” Jungkook struggled to find his answer; he did trust Seokjin, but his feelings for his senior weren’t exactly the same as his feelings for you. He even went so far as to claim you even after you expressly said he needed to be sure, and he was. Is. Isn’t he?

“Come on,” Seokjin rose to his feet and led him to the door, watching Jungkook’s ears twitch at your voice coming from the room and his lips curl into a growl. Opening the door, he made room for Jungkook to stompy by.

Jungkook’s fists curled into balls as they hung at his sides, Taehyung’s voice carrying down the hall explaining that the panther has chosen to stay in the apartment above and your response being ‘it’s what he wants’ causing a harsh pain in his chest. You really weren’t going to fight him on the need for space.

Seokjin pulled a note from his pocket to leave on the kitchen counter with the words ‘I called detective Kim and he said he’s free for most of the week’ scribbled on them before following Jungkook to the elevator that seemed to be taking forever. As he rode in awkward silence next to a pissed off hybrid, he could only hope Taehyung had better luck finding out what happened from you.

Once on the floor above, Jungkook swiftly stormed to one of the empty rooms and flopped down on the bed. Head buried in the pillows, he ignored Seokjin’s questioning knock and the concern in his senior’s voice. He could already feel the pull of his mark coming from Taehyung’s apartment, the desperate need to be at your side burning a hole in his chest. But he wouldn’t go, not yet, not until he had enough time to sort out his thoughts.

Hybrid hunters were notorious for being ignorant about the hybrid race, believing humans were superior in every way and showing it in the way they chose to treat hybrids. Even now after the laws were passed, people still looked down on him and his race, disgust written all over their face. Jungkook was sensible enough to acknowledge that not all humans hated hybrids, some viewing them not as pets but as friends, sometimes even more. Seokjin was one of those people. Hoseok and Taehyung were those people. You, on the other hand, were in between; not hating hybrids but not seeing them as more than animals either, despite your many claims of regret.

Jungkook hissed as his chest burned; you were in pain, upset and possibly crying. There was nothing that he wanted more than to comfort you, hold you in his arms and soothe the pain inside. Tears sprung to his eyes as he resisted the urge to do so, claws sinking into the mattress beneath him as he gasped out his own agony.

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

“How is she?” Yoongi questioned from his side of the phone, the chattering of his bar patrons nearly drowning out Taehyung’s response.

“She says she’s okay,” Taehyung sighed and picked up the paper Seokjin had left, “But I’m pretty sure she kicked me out of the room so she could just cry to herself. You know better than I do that she’s not really going to tell me what the hell happened.”

On his end, Yoongi scrubbed his hand down his face, pushing Hoseok away when his friend all but squished his own cheek to Yoongi’s in hopes of hearing the conversation. 

“And Jungkook?” Hoseok blurted out and Yoongi winced at the volume of his question.

“He went back to the apartment upstairs. Seokjin hyung promised to stay with him until this blows over, if it blows over at all.” Taehyung stalked around the kitchen, opening his cabinets to pull out two glasses and set them on the table. He pulled a pitcher of water from the fridge as he heard the door to your room open and close. Trying to hide the frown on his face, Taehyung noted the red that brimmed your eyes, “The detective he talked to said he was going to be free this week so we’ll meet up with him.”

“We won’t be doing anything,” You slumped in the chair at the kitchen table and fiddled with the glass, “I’m going to see if he’s actually trustworthy. You’re going to stay here and out of my way.”

“Why?” Taehyung demanded and set his phone on the table after placing the call on speaker, not expecting Yoongi to chime in and agree with him that you needed backup. 

“Because I said so.”

“We’re not teenagers anymore, I’m not as afraid of you as I used to be.”

You rose a brow over the glass brought to your lips, “Tae, if this goes south, I don’t want you or anyone else near it. That’s the deal.”

“No way.” Taehyung shook his head and crossed his arms sternly, “I’m not letting you meet with him alone. It’s dangerous.”

“Yeah, I think out of the two of us,” You waved a hand between you and your best friend, “I’m better at handling dangerous situations. Look, Tae, I’m tired of arguing with everyone, just do what I say and stay here.”

The table shook with the amount of force you put into slamming your hand on the table as you stood up, grumbling under your breath the entire way back to your room.

Taehyung jumped at the sound of Yoongi screaming ‘yah!’ from his side of the phone, trying to get your attention but failing. He sighed heavily and propped his elbows on the table, folding his hands in front of him. “This whole thing with Jungkook is concerning.”

“I’ve been saying that since the beginning.”

“Anymore fighting with him is just going to cause Y/N to distance herself from us more.” Taehyung ignored Yoongi, thinking out loud and wanting to bang his head against the table. He really thought he’d seen a change in you after meeting the panther but now he’s not sure what he should do. Removing Jungkook from the situation wouldn’t help, not with his mark very clearly embedded in your clavicle. Any further distance would only make it harder now that Jungkook had claimed you.

He tugged at his hair, the strands sticking out in every direction before he dropped his forehead to the wood of his kitchen table, groaning in frustration.

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

“The hell do you mean there was no evidence left behind?” Kim Namjoon scolded the forensics team. “You’re telling me this whole scene was wiped clean of everything?”

He stood in the middle of an abandoned house, a lioness hybrid’s dead body separating him from the team. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took another look around what used to be a family room but was now covered in dust and mold. “Find me something.”

“What’s the big deal?” One of the crew scoffed, “it’s just an animal, detective, it’s not like it was anything important.”

“Watch yourself.” Namjoon growled, advancing on the much shorter man and towering over him, “Just because they’ve got animal DNA doesn’t mean they’re to be written off, understood? She may not have been important to you, but somebody out there is missing her, so if you’re done being a fucking prick, get back to work.”

The man shied away from Namjoon’s glare to comb the room once more despite having found absolutely nothing the first time around. Namjoon glanced down at his watch and cursed; they’d already been there too long for his liking, especially given that the whole place had been wiped clean to keep anyone from finding out what happened. He also had another case he was working on, one no one else knew about so he couldn’t exactly just leave the scene without a proper investigation.

“Yo,” His partner and long time friend Jackson clapped his shoulder, “look man, why don’t you head back to the precinct before one of these guys loses his teeth? I’ll handle things here.”

Namjoon smiled at Jackson’s joke and shook his head, “You sure? They don’t seem to be trying very hard and I just want to make sure---.”

“I’ll make sure everything gets done, bro.” Jackson assured him, “I promise we’ll go over this place all day if we have to. Just get out of here before Jay pisses his pants, okay? Dude’s scared of you, so give him a little peace and quiet and he might actually find something.”

“Fine,” Namjoon conceded and let Jackson steer him towards his car where he hopped in and watched his friend march back to the house and basically cling to Jay in order to make sure they were being thorough. He let out a small chuckle at his friend’s silliness and pulled away from the street they’d blocked off. 

It was the first body he’d seen in weeks and couldn’t help but wonder if this was a stashed hybrid that the owner could no longer risk being found. She had no form of identification on her and she didn’t come up in missing persons, so he could only assume that she wasn’t a registered citizen, which meant she was being kept away from the public. There was bruising around her ribcage and signs of sexual abuse and he shuddered at the thought of what this poor girl went through.

The drive back to the precinct was quiet except for the occasional chime of the dispatcher coming in through his scanner. Namjoon rubbed at his tired eyes, squeezing them shut as he sat at a red light and felt the obvious signs of a migraine beginning to form at his temples. He needed sleep but the file he’d been gifted from his father lingered in his mind, opting instead to spend his nights under the dim glow of his bedside lamp reading over the death of Y/L/N Iseul. A 40 year old woman whose body was found along with her husband’s in their home, allegedly attacked by a hybrid but Namjoon’s father never believed it. 

The case haunted his father and Namjoon remembered the many nights his parents would argue over the obsession his father carried over it. When he was a child, Namjoon didn’t understand the big deal about the case when it had already been closed. As a teenager, he remembered berating his father for being forced to retire much too soon because he couldn’t let it go. Now as a detective himself, the case was indeed strange to Namjoon, especially after it was coupled with another file on the woman’s husband accusing him of long term domestic abuse. The file had never been seen by anyone other than himself and his father and Namjoon found himself thinking about it non-stop.

The loud honk coming from the car behind him startled Namjoon as he jumped in his seat, pressing down on the gas pedal rather harshly after finally spotting the green light.

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

You watched as Namjoon sighed heavily and stalked through the precinct to his office, the distraction of one of the officers needing his signature giving you the opportunity to slip inside. 

Closing the door, he felt a slight change in the atmosphere that alerted him to your presence. Namjoon quickly drew his gun, twisting around to aim it smack dab in the middle of your forehead. His mouth parted in surprise at the stoic look on your face, his forefinger curling around the trigger as your hand came up to gently push the barrel of his gun away from you. 

“Not very friendly of you, is it, detective Kim?” You smirked as you leaned back against his desk, crossing both arms and legs.

“Not very friendly of you to sneak up on me, is it?” He was cautious, keeping his gun tight in his grip but aiming it at the ground rather than you. “How did you get in here?”

“The door,” You nodded towards the aged wooden door as if the answer was that simple when in reality his question was how the hell you ended up in his office. “Just walked right by desk after desk. Not a very observant precinct you guys got here.”

Namjoon set his jaw, bringing his gun up to you once more, clearly tired of your games and quite rattled by your calm exterior. Anyone able to slip past dozens of armed officers and trained detectives was not to be taken lightly. He watched your tongue poke out against your lips in an attempt to hide your smile; you were amused by something and it chilled him to the bone.

“Relax,” You chuckled lowly, uncrossing your arms to prop them back on his desk, “I don’t think your Captain would be too happy if you shot an unarmed civilian in your office, would he?”

“If you’re who I think you are,” He pulled his finger from the trigger, switching on the safety to his gun and pushing it back in his holster, “then you’re not unarmed.”

“You’re more than welcome to draw your gun again and find out,” Pushing yourself from his desk, you turned and plopped into the chair, listening and using the reflection from the silver picture frames on his desk to watch as he rounded it and sat opposite of you.

Namjoon ran his hands through his already messy hair, smoothing it back before opening the file that had been sitting there long before you arrived. “I didn’t think you’d come to me. From what Jin hyung told me, I didn’t think you’d ever set foot in a police precinct.”

“What Seokjin told you,” Your hardened voice caught him off guard, any hint of playfulness long gone, “Or what you hoped? You know how dangerous I am and it won’t be easy to pass off as simply defending yourself if anything goes wrong. After all, who’s going to believe someone like me could overpower you?”

His hands froze in the middle of turning over a page in the case he was looking over, his eyes locking with yours and he wondered just how long you’d been lying in wait for him to come back. He was surprised to find how cold your stare was compared to a minute ago, the stiffness in your posture suggesting you were done being friendly. “Did you look at this before I got here?”

“No.” You chuckled at his shoulders slumping in ease. “You’re not very prepared, Kim, that’s not a good look for you. Maybe you weren’t expecting me so soon, but you were expecting to run in to me at some point this week.” Resting your elbow on the arm rest of the chair, you propped your chin in the palm of your hand, pursing your lips. 

Namjoon let out a frustrated huff of breath, “The file I have here has a missing persons report from when you were 15, but there’s another that says your grandfather took guardianship of you after your parents’ death.”

“My grandfather had powerful friends everywhere,” You offered this bit of information to clear up his confusion, “He didn’t want us to be found so he called in some favors.”

“Until his body was found three years later in the forest of your hometown, allegedly mauled by a wild animal.” He had dug deeper than he first let on, his tone implying there was more to the story. 

“Why do you care?” You countered, lips curling into a devious smile once more, “My grandfather had quite the reputation, he was no stranger to criminal activity and if you’ve looked into me, then I’ve no doubt you’ve already gone through his records. You’ve already made up your mind about me, detective Kim, because you believe I’m just like him. And judging by the way you’re yet to look down at the paper in your hands, you’ve committed my file to memory, which means you’ve combed over it for hours. Am I wrong?”

Namjoon was at a loss for words, not expecting you to have been as hyper aware of him as he was of you. He swallowed audibly, truly shaken by your quick assessment, and dropped his gaze to the paper in his hands because he had studied it from the second he obtained it to now. He poured over your grandfather’s activities because his father had left the file to him, comparing them to Donghoon’s file until the night of his death. Not long after Sangchul’s death, his father began building a file on you, but there was no record of your existence after the age of 15 so not much was there. Both he and his father had gone restless nights staring at the investigation report of Sangchul’s death and the autopsy report that was suspicious but not enough to truly be bothered with since his supposed only next of kin was also dead.

“You’re right, you know?” You broke his train of thought, watching as he nearly jumped out of his skin after forgetting you were even there, his head whipping up to observe your face and brows furrowed. “I’m very much like Sangchul, and you’re right to assume how dangerous I am. My grandfather’s death was a godsend, detective. He was an evil and vicious man, and you should really be grateful that he doesn’t still walk this Earth.”

“You killed him,” He breathed out, hands trembling as he debated whether he should draw his weapon again or hear out the rest of what you had to say. 

“His son killed my mother so I simply returned the favor,” Rising slowly from your seat, you stuffed your hands into the pockets of the oversized jacket you borrowed from Taehyung. “You can arrest me if you’d like, though I don’t think you’d get very far without concrete proof. The cameras in your office have been disconnected so my confession wasn’t caught.”

“What?” Namjoon glanced around to check the security cameras hidden in the corners of the room to find they had in fact been tampered with. His eyes fell back on you, jaw clenching at having been bested in his own damn office. It suddenly dawned on him that he couldn’t feel the weight of his phone in his back pocket anymore, panic rising as you produced said phone from your jacket, dropping it to the ground and taking care to stomp on it violently. “Fuck.”

“Seokjin said he trusted you,” You kicked the phone across the floor, listening to it glide across the tile underneath his desk until he stopped it with his own foot, “and I’d like to think I can trust you too since we have a common enemy.”

He rose his brow, hands fisting on his desk and shaking with rage, but he stayed silent to allow you to go on. He was tempted to arrest you for destroying his property but he was actually impressed with how you managed to swipe the phone from his person without notice. He always had a sinking suspicion Sangchul had been murdered, not attacked. Sangchul’s case went cold and though it had truly looked as if he’d been attacked by an animal, Namjoon never bought it. Given your particular set of skills, it was quite clear what had really happened. Namjoon wasn’t all that surprised to hear you say your father killed your mother since the file his dad kept hidden documented what kind of person Donghoon really was.

“Nam Hyungsik,” You dropped the piece of paper Seokjin had given you on Namjoon’s desk, “has at least a dozen hybrids still in his home and I’d like to help you get them out.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“I want a specific hybrid to be protected until this is over,” You didn’t hesitate to mention Jungkook, your hand unconsciously coming up to rest on the twin holes in the juncture of your neck. His mark almost burning under your touch, the need to be close to Jungkook becoming desperate. “Dr. Kim and the people you’re about to meet...I don’t want them to be a part of this.”

“What does this hybrid have to do with Hyungsik?” Namjoon skimmed through the list of names on the paper you provided.

“Hyungsik’s daughter hired a few hunters to find him for a pretty hefty reward and I’ve been keeping him safe.”

“Where?”

“Out of sight.” 

“Right,” Namjoon sighed and figured he shouldn’t have even bothered to ask given the lengths you were willing to go through to keep this particular hybrid safe. “Are you one of the hunters that was hired?”

You scratched the back of your neck, palm resting against it afterward to massage the tension building there. “Will you help or not? You weren’t exactly my first choice when it came to handling this situation but Seokjin insisted.”

“Taking down someone like Hyungsik won’t be easy, it’ll take time.” He scrubbed his hand down his face, wincing at the bold lettering of deceased next to most of the names on the list. 

You nodded in understanding, taking his answer as proof that he’s willing to help. “Hyungsik is under the impression that I’m still looking for this hybrid so we have a window of maybe a week or two until he wants to meet up again if I haven’t delivered before then.”

“Good,” Namjoon nodded and pulled out one of his desk drawers to tuck the papers in it and slamming it shut. He watched your shoulders tense at his not so secret hiding place, “I’m not keeping these here, only while I’m in the office and then they go everywhere with me.”

Turning on your heel, you made for the door, hand on the knob and ready to turn but his voice stopped you, the low timbre making you hesitate as he asked-

“Why didn’t you tell anybody?” He wondered, “If you knew your father killed your mother, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Nobody would have believed me,” You didn’t face him, the memories of that day flooding back and you refused to show him how affected you still were. The image of 15 year old you, desperate and pleading flashed before you, your grandfather’s stone face as you became hysterical burned in your mind, “My father was a pinnacle of society, loving and doting out in public but behind closed doors…”

Namjoon’s features softened as he pitied you for having a rough childhood, something he didn’t quite understand because he’d come from a loving home with supportive parents. He knew that not everyone was as lucky, but he didn’t know how hard it could be for someone else either. 

“There was never any record of abuse against my father,” You weren’t sure why you continued, but chalked it up to needing to tell someone the truth after hiding it for so many years, “An accomplished man like him? No one would take my mother’s side if she tried to accuse Donghoon of abuse. He was a drunk, Detective Kim, and one night he simply snapped and couldn’t stand the sight of her, so he killed her. And like a coward, he chose to call his father for help only to have his own life taken by the very man who raised him.”

You still faced the door, body practically vibrating with rage at the memories, grip on the door handle so tight that your hand shook, “My grandfather manipulated every cop on the scene that night and convinced them that a hybrid attacked my parents. His hatred for their race was no secret, so he did everything he could to make sure I hated them too. It wasn’t until Sangchul thought I’d been brainwashed enough that he told me the truth about what happened that night.”

Namjoon caught your eye as you looked over your shoulder, door knob rattling in your grip, “An eye for an eye, Kim. Maybe not for people like you but for monsters like me, that’s how a score is settled.”

His mouth went dry and his stare bore into your back as you pulled open his office door and walked out like you hadn’t just resembled a cold hearted murderer. His fellow detectives and officers all glanced back into his now open office and he waved his hand dismissively to signal that he was okay.

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

“You sure you don’t want anything a little heavier?” Hoseok offered as he set down a glass of water in front of you; he and Yoongi had inventory to go over before opening for the night so they’d spent their day at the bar.

“Didn’t you hear?” You snorted as you lifted the glass to your lips and took a long gulp, “Tae put me on an alcohol ban after a messy assignment a few years ago.”

“He’s just looking out for you.” Yoongi grunted over a couple of cases of liquor he carried in from the back. “You know, since you didn’t allow us to do it.”

You rolled your eyes playfully as Hoseok snickered and made his way to the back room to carry in more boxes. “That wasn’t my choice.”

“You still could have found me after your grandfather died.” Yoongi braced his hands against the bar top, his eyes flicking down to the mark on your shoulder. “How are things with the panther?”

“It is what it is,” You tried to play off your argument with Jungkook but he knew enough about you to call bullshit. He also knew it wasn’t a good idea to push any further because you’d only shut him out if he did.

Yoongi watched your elbow come up to rest on the bar, your chin propped on the palm of your hand. He reached out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, “You’re so stubborn, little one. The kid’s hurt that you said you won’t give up hunting. Why aren’t you giving it up?”

“Hunting’s all I know,” You swallowed the lump in your throat, leaning into his touch as the back of his hand skimmed down your cheek. “After this is over, what purpose would I have, Yoongs? It’s not like I can just get a normal job.”

“Why don’t you become a bounty hunter?” He suggested, smiling softly at the way your eyes closed in content at his touch. “You’d definitely be the most successful with your tracking skills.”

“I’d have to out myself as a hybrid hunter,” Moving away from his hand, you took another drink from the glass in front of you, “not many people respect us these days, you know?”

“Your knowledge on hybrids is what will make you the best.” Yoongi picked up the bar rag Hoseok had left to wipe down the counter, “As much as those people don’t want to believe it, hybrids are capable of committing crimes. Some of them have chosen to live up to the stereotype that they’re just wild animals.”

Your head lolled from side to side, the tension from earlier becoming too much to hide anymore. A lot of it was because of the separation from Jungkook, but he was yet to speak to you and you weren’t one to give in either. It wasn’t in your nature to surrender and the throbbing pain of his mark should have been enough to send you running towards him but you wouldn’t allow it to control you.

A low whistle coming from the doorway caught your attention, the deep chuckle was familiar as your back straightened and glanced to Yoongi. His jaw was clenched and grip tight on the rag in his hand.

“We’re closed.” He growled as you pulled on Taehyung’s jacket and zipped it up to keep your new company from seeing Jungkook’s mark. “Get out.”

“I’ve been looking for you, Y/N,” Suho’s voice was smooth, relaxed in the way he greeted you. He was always good at keeping his composure and you found it admirable whenever you met on the street. Truthfully, he was the only hunter who was able to stand tall before you without being intimidated as much lately.

As you peered up from the glass in front of you to the mirror behind the shelves filled with liquor, you counted two more people flanking either side of Suho. Tipping the glass to your lips, you gulped down whatever water was left and twisted all the way around on the stool you occupied.

“I haven’t been hiding,” You matched his sinister smile with one of your own, “Your tracking skills were always shit. No wonder you can’t find the panther.”

“You haven’t found it either,” Suho hissed and balled his hands into fists, taking a step closer as his men did the same. “The bounty’s still out for it and believe me when I say I’m going to collect that money.”

“Yeah?” You tilted your head playfully, both mocking and riling him up at the same time. “Good luck with that.”

“I said we’re closed,” Yoongi interrupted before things got out of hand, “Leave, Suho. Xiumin and Kai not tell you about my warning the other night?”

Suho nodded while kissing the back of his teeth in a small ‘tsk’, “With their busted lips and swollen faces it was a little hard to understand so it might have gotten lost in translation.”

“Wanna hear it for yourself?” You stood from the bar stool before Yoongi could grip your shoulder to keep you in place. Tensing as his two goons stepped in front of him, you smirked; of course he wouldn’t go head to head with you. Suho never physically fought with you if it could be avoided, his hand to hand combat skills were nothing compared to yours.

“Damn it,” Yoongi muttered under his breath, listening for Hoseok stumble around in the back and praying he didn’t come out any time soon. He turned to make his way to the back room, trusting that you can handle the situation since getting involved and helping you out wouldn’t be welcomed. “Y/N, don’t make a mess.”

The tall man to Suho’s left you recognized as Chanyeol came at you first, rushing forward and throwing his fist out. You stepped back, gripping his forearm in the process and turning to smash his head into the bar top. He groaned, knees wobbling as he fell to the ground with his hand pressed to his now broken nose.

Suho pushed Kyungsoo forward, cursing Chanyeol’s failed attempt at landing a solid hit. Kyungsoo swung violently, his hands heavier than they look, narrowly missing your face as he threw punch after punch. His footwork was quick and he was able to keep up with you much better than Chanyeol could. Unfortunately for him, his footing became misplaced and you were able to catch him off guard by ducking to swipe at his feet. Kyungsoo grunted as he fell to the ground and quickly tried to scramble up but you were already atop him, knee pressed down on his shoulder with one hand fisting the front of his shirt. 

Raising your fist high, you brought your knuckles across Kyungsoo’s face in five solid hits, blood smeared across your hand and all around his mouth and nose. You looked up to his boss, jumping back before Suho could get his hands on you and kicking your foot out to hit him square in the gut and send him stumbling to his knees. You made a mental note to thank Taehyung for insisting you wear your steel toe boots instead of regular sneakers. Chest heaving unevenly, you stepped around Suho and slid one hand up the back of his head while the other cupped his chin.

Suho began to panic after falling to his knees and feeling you take your position, clawing at your arms but your grip was strong. He looked to his members frantically, a silent plea passing between them but they were injured too badly to even move. He felt your breath at his ear and winced when you jerked on his chin slightly.

“You were no match for me when you first got in the game, Suho,” You seethed and looked two his men sprawled on the floor before him, writhing in pain, “and you’re no match for me now. Stay the hell out of my way.” Releasing him, you stepped back to plant your feet and give yourself enough momentum to thrust your knee forward, sending Suho to his hands. 

“Bitch,” He spat as if he hadn’t been struggling against you a moment ago. “You think you’re so fucking great, Y/N, but the truth is that you’re worn out. A hunter with your magnitude of skill quitting after the laws were announced? You’re a coward that couldn’t take the heat.”

Rage shot through you like never before as you kneeled in front of him, gripping his chin tight in your hand and bringing his face close, “You used to be so scared of me, Suho.” A wicked grin took over your face before you could stop it, feeling his body stiffen as your free hand trailed underneath his shirt and up to his rib cage. His skin burned underneath your touch, muscles tensing as your finger traced a rather nasty scar along his midriff. The amount of fear you incited in him now that he was on all fours and at your mercy was unmatched when he met with other hunters.

Tears gathered in his eyes, his body shook in your hold, and a single tear slid down his face as you leaned in to whisper against his lips, “Don’t forget who gave you this scar. I was much too nice that day and today. Take your men and leave before I reopen this old wound and gift you a few fresh ones.”

You rose to your feet with your fingers still wrapped around Suho’s chin and heard the sound of the back door swinging open as Yoongi and Hoseok stepped out to see what happened. You caught his eyes flicker to the two men behind you and sunk your nails into his skin, hissing as he grunted, “Don’t make me regret letting you live.”

Suho gasped when you threw his head to the side, hearing Chanyeol scramble to his feet and attempt to wake Kyungsoo. He kept his gaze on the floor and waited for the taller man to gather his friend, turning on his heel to storm out of Yoongi’s bar with trembling hands. Outside, his hand drifted up to his torso where he felt for the scar over his t-shirt; he remembered that night quite well.

“I’m sorry. You’re asking me to what?” You snorted at Choi, hearing the rustling of Taehyung on your right and knowing he was equally amused.

Choi Sungil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose; he had somehow made the mistake of hiring on both you and Suho for a job and suggested you partnered up instead of rampaging through the city in competition with each other. “Just work together. I can’t afford to pay you both separately.”

You tsked and shook your head, eyeing Suho standing to your left, “He’s a rookie, Choi. You really think he’ll do me any good? He’ll only slow us down.”

“Suho’s reputation is established well enough now. Besides,” Sungil gave Taehyung a once over and sneered, “I heard you were taking strays now.”

“Watch yourself.” You warned through grit teeth and took a step in front of Taehyung as if to shield him from the man’s view before turning to Suho. “I’ll take the newbie but his blood is on your hands if he doesn’t come back alive.”

Sungil nodded in understanding and waved his hand dismissively; he really couldn’t be bothered with what did or didn’t happen to Suho so long as you delivered on your end of the deal. “I want that lion, Y/N, don’t disappoint me.”

Taehyung took your cue to leave but heard your footsteps slow the closer you got to Suho and he turned to see you whisper something into his ear. Most likely a warning for him not to screw up or it was his head.

That night Suho was in charge of staking out the home, making sure the perimeter was clear and there would be no interruptions. You and Taehyung managed to slip inside to secure the lion hybrid for Choi and were close to getting away cleanly but Suho had managed to miss one little detail; the fucking idiot didn’t warn you that the hybrid’s family returned early.

You and Taehyung had been caught and had to fight your way through the hybrids but Taehyung had been injured in the process. Because Taehyung had gotten hurt, you spent the remainder of the night alternating between taking care of him and beating the shit out of Suho for screwing up. 

He remembered trying to fight back, remembered the sting of your blade as it pierced his skin, all the while promising that he wasn’t the only going to be paying for what happened to Taehyung.

“Boss?” Came Chanyeol’s nasally question, snapping Suho from his memories and causing the older man to scramble for their car. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here and regroup,” Suho snapped at him and peeled away from the curb.

[lokispettigerr]

To Summon a Witcher: Chapter 5- Geralt x Reader (NSFW)

Summary:  Reader lives and works in one of the most romantic cities in the US, Charleston, SC. However, because of the city’s colored past, romance isn’t the only thing that can be found there– it is said that ghosts, goblins, ghouls and the like make the city their home. When Reader meets one of these creatures she has to get the help of someone not quite so human in order to be free, but he frees her from much more than she ever expected.  

Word Count: 1,987

Warnings: Angry Daddy, Violence, Spooky shit that Daddy protecc reader from

A/N: So far, with the exclusion of chapter 1, this CHAPTER IS MY FAVORITE!

Taglist: In reblog

When I awoke Saturday morning I left my room to find Geralt laying on the couch. His eyes, as stunning as the sunrise, were already open.

“Morning,” I said with a yawn.

“Mmm,” he replied, his voice sounding rougher with the fading tendrils of sleep. I shuffled into the kitchen and started making breakfast. Normally, I wouldn’t eat breakfast. I wasn’t much of a breakfast person, or much of a morning person. I was certain my heavily muscled guest however, needed nourishment.

I put down enough slices of bacon to fill an old cast-iron pot.

The mapley, enticing scent filled the air as the bacon grease heated and popped. “Smells wonderful,” Geralt said. I jumped, turning to face him. How long had he been standing there?! “Timid, Enchantress?” He asked with a smirk. “Not usually!” I exclaimed. “Can’t you make more noise? How are you this quiet when you move? You’re huge!”

Geralt looked down at his waist. He shrugged, clearly indifferent.

“I can hum.”

I had a hard time imagining the aggressive Witcher of last night humming tunes as he walked about.

“Nevermind,” I snapped.

The bacon cooking was growing increasingly louder and I had a hard time hearing anything over it, but I was certain I heard him chuckle.

After I scrambled some eggs, buttered toast, and whipped up southern style grits, we sat down to eat. I had a cup of coffee, almost too hot in my hands. “Would you like some?” I offered. He hmphed and I took that to mean he did.

I drank my own coffee black and didn’t add anything to his either. If he wanted something, he could tell me-- though he didn’t seem to be particularly verbose. We sat in silence other than our utensils scraping the floral plates and the muted thump of coffee mugs on the wooden, four-seater table. I nibbled at a slice of crispy bacon then cleared my throat. “Well, I… I’ve had an entity attached to me, Witcher.”

“Hm…” He sipped his coffee, “Tell me about it.” I felt like I was about to tell my life troubles to a therapist. Perhaps I should go lie down on the couch and ask Geralt to put on some reading glasses while he looked over the rim of them at me and scribbled madly away in a leather-bound notebook. “A few months ago, during a storm, I walked home through a local cemetery.” He snorted, “Why would you walk home through there?”

“I wouldn’t have, had it not been for the storm,” I said, “I know I wasn’t alone there.”

“In the cemetery?”

“Yes.”

“No, you wouldn’t be,” he stated. “Something out there, made of shadow and chilled wind followed me home. It hasn’t left since.” “Why do you think it followed you?” The Witcher asked. I wanted to evade his question-- very few knew my secret. If people knew, they would think I needed to be hospitalized. But, if I wasn’t completely honest with Geralt he may not be able to help me, or things would go awry. “I see it,” I sighed, “I feel it.” He shook his head and took a sip of his steaming coffee, “You see things happening around you, inexplicable things?” He asked. “Well, yes. But I see the entity as well, Witcher.”

For the first time since his arrival, Geralt looked surprised.

“What you are claiming is extremely rare. During my time the ability was nearing extinction. I would imagine that during your time-- what’s the year now?”

“2020,” I answered. He paused, “2020 then. I would imagine that the ability does not exist at all.” “I’m not lying. I see it. It has pointed ears that sit on top of its head. Deep red eyes that look like clotted and cold blood. It’s hunched over with arms that near the ground. It looks perverse! This shadow thing! Like it should walk about on all fours, yet it stands on its hind-legs. “For days it will seem as if it has finally left me. Hope will begin to grow in my chest. But then, when the sun has set or is hidden behind the clouds, I’ll feel its frigid breath on the back of my neck. The noise it makes… A whisper of nails against a chalkboard or gravel turning under someone’s shoes as they run away from a murder.” “Take me to the cemetery,�� Geralt demanded.

I nodded, though I had no desire to ever return to the graveyard, I knew better than to refuse his demand. I took one last nibble of bacon, finished my coffee, and told him once I was done washing up I would take him there.

My hands shook as I walked away from him. What had I gotten myself into now?

The sun shone brightly overhead. Though it was chilly out, walking under the rays of the sun made it seem warmer than it was. What few red and orange leaves were left on the trees clung desperately to the limbs, shaking and quivering like a death rattle.

Surprisingly, the french quarter was quiet with the exception of a few people walking their designer-suit-dogs and people returning from a stop at the local market, their arms hoisting bags laden with the freshest finds, aromatic baked bread, and carefully arranged bouquets.

I watched as any person passing by Geralt would cross to the other side of the street, giving him a wide berth.  

I sniffed. He didn’t smell bad, on the contrary, his scent was inviting-- like freshly crushed pine, saddle leather, and the smell of smoke still wafting from a campfire that had long been put out but still burned with hidden embers. I looked at the towering man walking silently beside me, at his hands that he held relaxed along his side, at the manly sway of his big shoulders, at the way the breeze twirled his loose silver curls, and how the sun glinting off his hair made him look like some cast down angel of destruction. Geralt must have felt me watching him, our eyes met briefly and I looked away. I pointed at the wrought iron gate before us covered in twisting vines, “It’s there.” The cemetery looked less threatening in the bright afternoon light. Birds flew from tree to tree, singing their gay songs and squirrels scampered up and down thick-girthed trunks whose roots came under the fence line and pushed through cracks in the cobblestone. In the summer, the smell of the magnolia blossoms and the honeysuckle would lay thick in the soupy air, but now it reeked of decay from the dead, molded leaves, mixing with the clay underneath. I moved behind Geralt, my fear letting me step back for the familiar stranger to take the lead. I fought the urge to reach out and grab the back of his graying tunic or to link my fingers in his. Instead, I crossed my arms under my breasts. Geralt looked back at me before opening the gate. “You’re cold, Enchantress?” He asked with a small smile. “I’m fine.” Geralt shrugged and pushed through the gate, the rusted hinges creaked loudly in protest. Geralt walked along the overgrown path and I followed in his footsteps. We traveled as far back as the south end of the graveyard. Geralt looked around us before stepping off the path and into a walled group of headstones, many of them dating back to the early 1800s. I wondered if he noticed the dates on the headstones and what it would feel like to see the dates of the dead from his future, but in his present, from the past. If he was disturbed or conflicted, his face did not show it.

He moved between the headstones comfortably, looking like death himself. He led us to a shadowed corner of the graveyard, compared to the rest of the graveyard this area was wild chaos. It was obvious, the place had been forsaken by the groundskeeper long ago. A stone crypt reached up toward the sky. A dog looking gargoyle stared down at us from above the door. It was a gruesome looking thing. Did it wake at night, wandering about the cemetery? I wondered if it would still be here if we were to come back tomorrow. The gargoyle seemed to hold authority both in its stature and in its gaze as if it held dominion over all the residents in the graveyard.

“Witcher,” I said, my voice wavering. “What are we doing here?” He turned and looked over my head, making sure we weren’t being watched. Though the door of the crypt was bolted shut and chained with aged links, with one shove Geralt opened the door.

For a moment, I thought about waiting for him outside of the crypt. A cloud passed over the sun, causing a chill to race up my spine.

I darted into the crypt after him.

In the gloom of the crypt, I could barely make out Geralt’s hard form. He stood still, not even appearing to breathe.

I heard rustling and my heart jumped. We were not alone!

“Come to me! Now!” Geralt growled, his arm reaching for me.

“But--.”

“Now!” He roared.

I leapt towards him, unsure if I was more afraid of whatever was in the crypt with us or Geralt.

His hand palmed the side of my hip and pulled me behind him-- blocking me with his body.

And, oh my, I was shocked at how tiny I felt up against him.

I peeked around his thick arm.

From behind a bolted sarcophagus, a huge, long-haired, black dog prowled.  His lips were drawn back to expose his pointed teeth and a snarl ripped from his throat. It was clear we were trespassing.

“Geralt! What is that?!”

Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around Geralt’s waist, it was like hugging solid steel. I couldn’t even clasp my hands together. He was huge and I didn’t think I would ever get used to it.

With a sudden and sharp movement of his hand, a wave of force emitted from his finger-tips.

Amazingly, it sent the ferocious dog flying back.

It hit the wall of the crypt with a solid thud and let out a frantic yelp. The dog got to its feet with its tail tucked between its legs as it ran from the crypt, out into the graveyard.

I let out a sigh and Geralt moved me around to face him.

He held me tight against his chest, my face buried between his pecs.

From beneath my waist, a solid thick poke stabbed into me-- must have been the adrenaline again. “Geralt--,” I started. “Are you alright?” His voice was filled with sincerity.

“I-I’m fine.”

He instantly let go of me as if realizing for the first time that he had been clinging on to me desperately, and tight enough to crush me.

“Come on, then,” he said in a hushed tone.

Geralt was silent as we left the graveyard. When we finally made it back to the house, the sun was setting in the sky.

“So…,” I said. “The entity following you is not just any entity, Enchantress. A Grim has attached itself to your soul. For why I do not know. It doesn’t make sense. But I am certain, none of this will end until it drives you to madness, or death, or both. It would cause your soul to be separated from your body, driven by insanity, making your soul ever restless.”

The words fell, heavy in the air and covered me like a net of fear.

Geralt must have seen the anxiety in my eyes and he moved closer to me.In a murmur that sounded like the most comforting of lullabies, he said, “Everything will be alright. I won’t allow that to happen. I swear it.”

And with that, I knew it would be. Everything would be alright.

[bangtanlalaland]

the final touch | kth (m.)

synopsis ↳you are left with Taehyung to close up shop yet again. your only concern is: “can I handle another closing shift with him?”

--

— nail tech!au

→pairing: nail tech!kim taehyung x nail tech!female reader

→genre: smut, pwp

→word count: 3.1k

→contents ⨯ warnings: heavy petting, kissing, swearing, dirty talk, masturbation, oral sex (m + f receiving), face fucking, squirting, unprotected sex (stay safe everyone!), creampie

--

Time was slowly approaching to shut the nail shop down, and it had been a long day. Mr. Lee, your manager, left you in charge to close with Taehyung yet again for the 3rd time this week. The one person you weren’t comfortable working with here. The only reason why you started working here to begin with is because you figured the extra cash wouldn’t hurt, considering that every bit helps when you’re a struggling college student. Why aren’t you fond of working with him? Well let’s start with the first reason why:

1) He’s ridiculously smoking hot. And God knows you do not do well around attractive guys. Even today, you don’t know how you made it through training when you first got hired. That is, since Mr. Lee assigned Taehyung to train you then. He literally gives you goosebumps anytime he: looks at you with those gorgeous cat-like eyes, calls your name with that intoxicating voice, or simply brushes past you to grab warm towels from the towel warmer. You always ponder if he has a girlfriend, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he did. How could he not?

He literally appears unreal, like a manga character. He’s been here since you started about a year ago. You noticed he always shows up to work with a new hair color just about every week or so. It’s either blonde, red, blue, gray, or sometimes pink. Out of those colors, your favorite one is actually dark blue. It contrasts so well with his apricot-toned skin. Lucky for you, that’s his hair color now.

2) The biggest reason of them all. He. Flirts. Too. Much. And no, not with you. The customers. All the time. You’re not sure if the reason you’re annoyed with this is because you’d rather have him flirting with you or the fact that he moves like a turtle, when you could really use his help (especially on the weekends) if he would just stop playing around.

But apparently, he was seen as the “best nail tech” here because he attracted the most customers. Most importantly, he kept them returning. The only reason they’d keep coming back was so that they could exchange looks and numbers with him, and it drives you insane. Not only do younger women come in because of him, but older women do too. Like 40-60 years old. It makes you gag.

3) Did you mention how hot he is?

It was the last hour until closing, and there were about 3 people left to service. As always, you had to help 2 customers, a mother and daughter, on your own while Taehyung was obviously occupied the past hour with the remaining customer. 99% of the time he was flirting. The 1% left was his actual work.

You were applying the final coat of polish on the mother’s toenails, while at the corner of your eye you could see and clearly hear the flirty remarks that were given to Tae. You cringed. Thankfully no one else came in at the last minute, which meant you were all set to clean up your station as well as the rest of the shop after checking the mother and daughter out at the counter.

Two minutes till closing, you lock the doors and turn the “Open” sign off. As you turned around, you noticed Tae wasn’t here. Ugh, where did that fucker go? I’m going to leave him here alone if he doesn’t help me close. You walk towards the back of the store and make your way to the storage closet just before the breakroom, where the cleaning supplies are.

You open the door and hear soft moans. It’s dark and you can’t see. You flip the switch so the light turns on, and sure enough there he was.. jacking off. His eyes dart open towards you after realizing you were standing in the doorway.

“Shit!” he exclaims. You immediately froze. You couldn’t believe your eyes. “What the fuck, Tae?” He hurriedly turns around to zip his pants up, you could tell he was embarrassed. He turns back around towards you and his rock hard bulge is so obvious. “Please! Please don’t tell Mr. Lee. I can’t afford to lose my job! I’ll do anything! Just don’t tell him. Please?”

“I hear you.”

He sighs of relief and adds, “Thank you so much. I don’t know how I could repay you. It’s just... I’ve been really sexually frustrated lately, and I don’t know what to do about it. I have to get off like 3 times a day now, and it sucks.” Your eyes widen and you gulp that thick lump of nervousness that caused your throat to tighten.

He looks down at you with those eyes filled of lust. You can feel the tension in the room rising, and you don’t know who is going to make the first move. You take another look at his bulging member, and he notices. He looks down at his erection and back up at you. You blurt out: “Oh stop it! Don’t give me that look. You were just standing here jerking off, how can I not notice how hard you are?”

He just stands there, blushing away.

“Ugh, whatever. When was the last time you had a blowjob?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

You roll your eyes, “Just asking. I mean.. all of those women you flirt with. I’m surprised none of them have pounced on your dick already.” He scoffs, “That’s because I know my limits. And besides, I don’t want them. I only do that for tips. You should try it sometime.” Your eyebrows furrow, piecing together the fact that the shop hardly gets male customers. You shake your head at him,

“Yeah, yeah whatever you say. Well are you going to help me clean up so we can leave or are you just going to stand there enticing me with your... dick?”

“Enticing you?”

“Yes! You’re enticing me. You do know that I’m straight, right?”

“Yeah... Why do you ask?”

“You literally just suggested that I flirt with our clients to get better tips. You know most of our clients are women.”

“I was talking about guys though.”

“Oh, really? Where? Because I obviously don’t see any.”

He starts to say something but then pauses, looking up in the air and squinting his eyes. You had assumed he didn’t have anything to come back with. “Okay, I’m done here.”

“Wait,” he pleads while grabbing your arm, turning you around, and looking into your eyes. You hadn’t noticed his facial features because you’d never been so close to him before. At least not this close. He had a small beauty mark on his nose and on his bottom lip.

He was literally inches away from your face. His lips so pink and luscious. He was staring at you the entire time, your body temperature rising through the roof. You finally look up into those beautiful, brown eyes. “Did you really mean what you said when you said I am enticing you?” You slowly nod your head and reply with a simple but quiet “yes.”

“Then you have no idea what I’m capable of.” He licks his lips, lightly pinching your left cheek with his fingers before leaning down to press his lips against yours. His lips were so juicy, tasting like berries. So silky, like your bedsheets at home. So soft, like a cloud. You could literally melt in his mouth right now. You pull away, feeling stunned then ask,

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I know you wanted to.”

Your eyes widen, “What makes you think that?”

“If you didn’t want to, you would have stopped me. And you didn’t.. I think you were really into it. Besides, you told on yourself,” he presses himself against you. You can feel his hard cock rubbing against your thigh. “I’m turning you on, remember?” You feel the temperature in the room rising, and despite how nervous you are, you’ve always wanted Taehyung from the first day he started working here.

And here he is now, pressed upon you with his stiff member. You smile nervously and don’t make eye contact with him. Instead you place your palms on his chest, then play with the buttons on his white-sleeved button down. You slowly ease down towards his jeans, rubbing what’s sheltered underneath and you hear an “oh fuck” from him.

He lifts your chin up with his finger and meets your lips once again. You entangle your fingers in his hair, as he asks for entrance into your mouth with his tongue. You give him access, and he lets out a soft moan that gives your core a rush of arousal. He grasps your left cheek with his hand and eases toward your earlobe, placing soft wet kisses then whispers,

“I really want to fuck you. Tell me you want it too.” The bass of his deep, masculine voice making your insides shiver. He steps back, staring deeply into your eyes and swipes your cheek back and forth with his thumb. You reply with a simple: “Yes, I do.”

Then you open your mouth to take his thumb in, sucking it ever so gracefully while looking into his eyes. He sucks his teeth, making that “hiss” sound. And you let go of his thumb with a “pop” sound. “Fuck,” he slips. “Follow me.” You lead him to the break room in the back of the shop, where the leather sofa is. You shove him towards the sofa, and he plops down with his legs open. You straddle on top of him to continue your make-out session.

Your lips meet once again. He grabs your ass, firmly squeezing it and guiding your hips. You move your hips back and forth, grinding on his clothed erection. You give his neck one lick using your tongue, trailing along his earlobe and giving him gentle kisses, gaining a low moan from him. He grabs your tits and kindly squeezes them, “Oh, Taehyung.. I’m so horny. Please, I need you in my mouth.”

You ease off of him and kneel down, grabbing his belt to unloosen it and unzip his khakis. He lifts up just enough to pull his pants and boxers down. His stiff member plops straight up, and your mouth waters at the sight of it. He slides down a little, getting himself comfortable and giving you closer access.

"Holy fuck, you’re huge.”

He softly chuckles, “You think so?”

“Um... yeah? I mean look at it!”

You couldn’t estimate how long it is, but you knew it was long enough to make you squeal. You spit on your palm and wrap your fingers around his shaft, spreading the saliva along it as you jack him off. You notice the slit on his tip is oozing with pre-cum so you drop a line of saliva onto it and spread more of your spit on his cock. Next you wrap your lips around his mushroom-shaped tip, softly sucking and pulling away repeatedly, making that “pop” sound.

“Fuck... Stop fucking teasing.” He grabs a handful of your hair and pushes you down onto his cock, forcing you to take him whole. He catches you off guard by thrusting his hips into your mouth. You glide your tongue under his shaft, attempting to restrain yourself from gagging. You hear him say,

“Yes, just like that.. *hisses* don’t stop..”

The slurpy sounds of you getting face-fucked echo throughout the room, and you feel a gush of wetness soak your panties. He stops thrusting and relaxes. You let in a huge inhale as you pull away trying to catch your breath, leaving a string of spit coming from your mouth leading to his cock. You give him another stroke with your hand and he grabs your hands lifting you up.

You both switch positions. Now you’re laying against the couch with your legs open. He helps to remove your polo tee, and khaki pants, revealing your D sized cup bra, paired with your silky panties. He grins, giving you a lustful expression, “Wow, I never knew this was underneath your uniform this whole time.” His compliment makes you blush. He runs his hands along your body, starting with your breasts. He un-snaps your bra and throws it across the room.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy.” He caresses your tits, and plays with your nipples. Flicking your left nipple with his tongue, he wraps his lips around it giving a lengthy suck while looking up at you. You throw your head back in pleasure and moan his name, running your fingers through his silky, straight hair. He moves to your right breast and repeats the same action, while slipping his hand towards your aching core. Rubbing gently through your panties.

“Mmm, please Taehyung. Just fuck me already.

“I want to taste you first.” He wraps his arms under your thighs, pulling you closer to him and kissing the silky material that’s concealing your core. He teases you a little more by grazing his nails across the inner parts of your thighs. You groan and squirm in response. “I love seeing you like this.. All horny and ready for me. It’s so hot.”

He pulls the seam of your panties and you lift up off of the sofa to help remove them. He spreads your legs open to finally reveal what’s been hidden. He traces your pussy lips, covering his fingers in your juices.

“Woah. You’re fucking soaked, I love it.” He dives in head first, laying his tongue flat upon your lips, gliding up and down from your entrance to your clit. He returns to your clit and flicks it with his tongue then begins sucking on it. You let out a loud gasp and curl your toes. He sucks and kisses your pussy lips, licking all around and spreading his saliva with his tongue, mixed with your wetness.

“Ah, Yes! Uh-please don’t stop!” You can’t help but grasp his hair once again and grind against his face. He moans into you, and it makes your pussy tingle intensely. He inserts his long, slender finger inside of you twisting it in and out. He gave your clit one last lick and pulled away adding another finger inside of you fingering your pussy moderately, making sure to curve them into a “come here” gesture.

You suddenly feel an unfamiliar urge, and then woosh. You look down to find that you squirted all over Tae’s fingers and made a small mess on the sofa and floor. He licks and slurps your juices. Completely caught off guard, you lay there shocked.

“Oh my God! I’ve never squirted before.”

“Hmm.. there’s a first time for everything, right?” He adds, while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. With his cock stiff and your ready, dripping core, he uses his member to slide along your lips, rubbing against your clit. He gives your pussy a few slaps with his cock. “Fuck me already, Tae. Please.”

He gives you a smirk before saying, “Be careful what you ask for, because you just might get it,” then ramming in all the way and rubbing your clit simultaneously. You breathe in a loud gasp, trying to adjust to his size.

“Mmm, fuck. You’re so tight and wet, why didn’t I fuck you sooner?”

His cock literally filling every inch of you, he takes hold of your hips to pick up the pace. You yelp from how thick he feels inside of you. Your tits now jiggling up and down from the fast pace, he uses one hand to wrap around your throat. Your moans becoming uncontrollable. He switches rhythms, and groans at the sight of his cock sliding in and out of you.

The next thing you know, he flips you over and has your ass up with your face down while he’s pounding your kitty like there’s no tomorrow. You try grasping the couch, to catch yourself from falling forward from how hard he’s banging into you. But you’re conflicted from trying to cover your mouth to conceal your intense screams.

Noticing this, he bends over to pull your hands away saying: “No. I want to hear you scream, baby.” Your hands immediately grip the couch again as he slows down his thrusts. Your kitty clenching tight around him. “Good girl. You’re so sexy.” He drags his nails down your back, erupting soft moans from you. He gradually slows his pace, and you follow his lead. He guides you into the cowgirl position, and you position yourself on top of him.

You rub your heat against his tip before inserting him inside of you. “Uh! Oh fuck,” you moan, throwing your head back, taking all of him in and rubbing your clit. You feel yourself on the verge of an orgasm any moment now. Taehyung, who is nearly drained and almost out of breath, as you pick up your pace while riding him. Your thighs slapping against his, both of your bodies dampened with perspiration.

“Y/N, you feel amazing... I don’t think I can last any longer.” He reaches towards your breasts and sucks on them, playing with them as they jiggle in his face. To your surprise he picks you up, with his dick still inside of you, and pins you down on the sofa into the missionary position. His body pressed on top of yours. You reach down to rub your clit again as he hammers into you.

That tense feeling deep inside of you re-approaches stronger than ever and you feel your body entering a stage of nostalgia. You knew exactly what was happening so you wrap your arms around Tae’s neck.

“T-tae-hyung, I am- c-cumming,” You manage to say between breaths. His thrusts becoming harder and slower, but deeper. “Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fucking cock.” He demands while lifting himself up enough to rub your clit in circles, applying just the right amount of pressure to have your walls pulse rapidly around his length. And that’s all it took for your orgasm to reach it’s full potential over you.

Causing your legs to tremble furiously, your nails to scrape his back up and down, your breathing to become delayed, your eyes to roll in the back of your head, and your moans to turn into a high-pitched sound that you become inaudible due to the wave of bliss that flows throughout your body.

“Oh, fuck. I’m cumming,” Taehyung moans. You feel your walls being drenched in his hot, sticky load. He collapses on top of you, resting his head in between your tits. Breathing heavily he attempts to say, “That was...”

Although you were slowly coming down from your high, your body still slightly twitching, you gather up the strength to play with the strands of his hair and respond with, “Amazing?” He smiles, revealing those pearly whites. “So amazing.” A sudden silence overtakes the room.

You both remain rested on each other, like you were stuck together. Glued. The vibration from his vocal cord rumbles against your exposed abdomen when he breaks the silence: “Hey, you are on the pill right?”

Your eyes widen. Oh shit. You thought.

[highgaarden]

Klaroline Time Travel, please for the inbox game.

send me an au and i’ll write five headcanons about it.

i got this prompt a few days ago and thought - hey, it sort of fits in with one of the prompts in @klaroline-events’ june bingo: curse.

two birds, one stone? is that allowed? anyway, if it’s not allowed it’s okay, i had fun writing this all the same! another one for my drunk writing: a series tag, which as usual was written in one sitting whilst i giggle throughout.

sweetness that i took for, sweetness that she gave me to me;

though my heart has long been given to you summer's turn is nigh swifts and swallows swoop and yearn for you with all that's in the sky but blow the wind and come the rain and come my love again

i. 

she’s on the ground when she comes to. her head’s a mess and her back hurts, and she licks the inside of her dry mouth, suddenly wishing for blood to coat her parched tongue. 

the last thing she remembers is freya, davina, her own twins and bonnie standing in formation around hope; some kind of spell to slow down her age or something. she’s in her twenties and every day klaus grows more and more volatile about it, so it was deduced that something had to be done.

in that salt circle hope didn’t look too happy about it. last night there had been a huge argument between father and daughter - everyone had stayed well enough away, even hayley, who shrugs at her as if to apologize this was how their girls' summer break from the salvatore school was going.

“minutes ut horis et diebus et hebdomades,” bonnie and freya chant. 

hope groans.

 “quantum pugillus capere potest,” lizzie and josie continue, fingers clasped together, their eyes turning white. 

hope snorts.

“ex harenae spatia veluti clepsydris metiuntur,” davina bellows as wind starts whipping the air around them. 

hope rolls her eyes.

“tempus extendit!” they chorus together.

the witches chant and hope checks her wristwatch, and then a storm rolls in, breaking everything. the twins are flung to different ends of the room; freya loses her footing and has to dig her nails into the floor to avoid being dragged out the window that's burst open; bonnie bleeds through her nose and drops to her knees; davina flings herself over hope when the little baby tribrid starts to convulse--when it hits her, when it really hits her, that something has gone terribly wrong--

she's on her back. in a cemetery, her throat is bleeding and tyler - tyler? - is shouting down at her, but she can't hear anything he's saying.

she raises her hand. around her wrist, a charm bracelet glints, and her vision blurs: "no," she gasps, death taking over. she hasn't worn that bracelet since her eighteenth birthday.

ii.

klaus sits on the edge of her bed, his gaze swallowing her. she hears a crooning in her ears that she attributes to the werewolve venom taking space in her veins, smoking out the seams of her. she is burning up; this isn't real - how is this real? this isn't happening - she must be hallucinating, she was a woman in the abbatoir watching as a spell self-destructed, and now - 

she was a girl again, and she was dying.

"what's going on?" she whispers, frustrated even as gravity as she knew it malfunctioned around her, making her weightless yet heavy to the bone all at once. "this doesn't make any freaking sense."

"me persuading you, trying to save your life?" klaus cocks his head to the side. it's funny - he is so hard and unreadable here, so many years ago. he wore his rosaries and beads like they meant to be anything more than an accessory peaking just underneath his collar - he wore them like they armour; a badge of honour, hard worn after a bloody, grisly fight. and yet looked and smelled clean. so clean it cut through the putrid leaking out of her neck. "you do think so low of me, then."

"didn't i just say that?" she coughs, splattering her blanket with a fine red mist. this wasn't how it had gone the first time around. he was sitting there, staring at her, those same old hungry eyes she remembers even years later like a broken dream. she can't help herself. she stares him down, much like the first time, but then - her mouth parts, she licks her dry, parched lips, and says, "i've seen so many things."

klaus, ancient monster klaus who barely knew anything more about her than her name, klaus, the being just short of an omniscient deity,old as blood and weathered as a mountain - he doesn't laugh. he nods, once, hearing and listening. he says, "i don't doubt that, sweetheart."

she almost smiles. she's oddly satisfied. "maybe i am ready to die."

"then you're lucky," klaus says, "not many are."

"because you don't give them the chance," she says, coughing again. man, werewolf bites sucked. this memory got it down so perfectly, she would curse the witches' powers if she weren't so impressed.

"who says i don't?" 

she watches him with interest. "i thought you maimed first, ask questions never?"

"maim isn't kill." klaus grins. "maim is slow, painful, yes, but it gives them just long enough to plead their guilt, swear fealty to me, no? my maiming is my mercy."

"you write poetry or something?"

klaus laughs quietly. "i did some editing work for shakespeare, for a fashion. can't say i've ever written anything, no. my talents lie elsewhere."

she thinks about the wisp of his dress shoes against the hem hre ballgown. klaus leading her into a room with wide, arched ceilings. one of my passions, he said.

"i know," she says, quietly, with so much rueful affirmation in her voice that klaus reels back suddenly. as if realising he was sitting with someone who was far more familiar with him than current logic would suggest.

it felt like strange company to be having on her death bed. he had talked her out of dying last time. would he, again, in this memory?

was this a memory?

she thinks about how powerful the witches were in their own right. she thinks about their combined power. she thinks about how her blanket scratches heavily against her drenched, hyper-sensitive skin. 

she's not sure this is just memory.

and - and if it weren't just a memory, and the spell they'd tried casting had tried to temper with time, and she was here, in the PAST, was she - oh god - was this - ?

"klaus," she gasps, clutching at his hands. klaus' eyes widen.

"i don't know who you think you are, girl," klaus begins in a snarl, but everything flashes bright and hot - 

iii.

"and how am i doing?"

he knows his lines by now. he had been confused, enraged, elated all at once when he'd first landed slap dab in the middle of a patch in time he'd already lived through, but he's seen things in his thousand-and-something years, so he wasn't all that surprised. he'd tried to switch things up at first, say things he'd held back all those years ago, and watches caroline's face change.

it was fascinating, seeing things all over again. it offered him perspective. arguing with caroline but being able to detach himself from the moment and study all the ways that make her tick. knowing her for so many years now, he knew when she was bluffing. it was the way she would refuse to meet his eyes. back then, she never met his eyes.

stubborn little woman.

she turns. her gaze was sharper than the chill of the uncharacteristically cool spring afternoon. and then all at once she softens, and the bloom around her inexplicably gain more colour. the rest of the pageant dulled around her as she grew larger than life. "you look... perfect."

he'd never realised that little breath she had let out - like he had met her expectations yet again. exceeded them, in fact. she held herself carefully  around him, like she was made of thousands of little strings which would at any point unravel, leaving her bare for him.

odd, because he could only ever remember her being determined not to relinquish any control over to him. it had never occurred to him that her grip over it wasn't as unwavering as he'd thought.

iv.

caroline speeds through these scenarios she didn't have a name for, now that she had determined their level of harm - they appeared to only be swaths of time, ripped to shreds, trying to come back together. she wondered about the reality of bonnie, freya, her girls and davina's ministrations.

what had they done to Time?

she couldn't call it memories, these moments she steps into. maybe time was reconstructing. her meetings with klaus weren't in any chronological order. at some point they were in her office, two years ago, him pleading with her to help him save his daughter. experiencing it the first time around hadn't been easy. the second - she could watch him with new eyes and notice all the other, smaller ways he seemed to be falling apart. the things she'd never noticed. 

like the way he could stare at her, and oh how he stared. the way he would level his eyes to hers when it looked like she was ready to break eye contact; he would catch her gaze and hold, pulling her back, tethering her to him, unrelenting.

he's looking at her right now as he shows her his paintings. it's the night of the mikaelson ball all over again, and she is in her gifted dress and klaus is in his relish of the moment. how she had come to him after letting him dress her. now that she's older she knows now, what it must have meant to him. this small claiming, the first of many.

but there is none of the heat in his gaze, because he's not that klaus yet. he's not in love with her, yet. he's not looking at her as if he'd like nothing else than to just press the very tips of the hair that brushed his forehead to hers, just hold her there, and not think for a while.

yet.

she knows how this will go. did klaus know, then?

"you make it sound like it was the easiest decision in the world," she finds herself saying, "choosing me."

klaus looks surprised. she'd interrupted him mid-rant about some kind of debate, michaelangelo vs donatello or whatever. "was i not making myself clear enough when i said i fancy you?"

"liking - despite yourself - that's not choosing." she gives the half-done sketches in her hands a quick glance before putting them back where she'd found them. "we both know i'm not just your fancy of the week."

klaus' face clouds over. "and here i thought courting you would be easy." it sounds like a joke, but it's not. she can hear it in the sudden shift in his voice, how it becomes just that much silkier.

"you didn't really think that," she says knowingly, playing into his charade. enjoying the danger. some things never really change, she wants to laugh.

a small smirk breaks through the hard set of his mouth. "no, i really didn't. you're too smart to be seduced by me."

caroline blinks. her own words, in his mouth, shouldn't startle her so much. how well he knew her, even having just met her. "that's why you like me," she says. only just loud enough for him to catch it.

he doesn't say anything. just lifts her gloved knuckles to his lips and kissed her there.

v.

she makes an excuse to leave. klaus is unwilling to let her go so easily but he's playing at being a gentlemen, because back then he'd thought she'd received him better. it was kind of adorable in a way, if it didn't vex her so much.

what was happening? where the hell was she? why was she stuck in a weird loop of all her interactions with klaus? was hope okay? when was she getting out of here?

she walks on, the trail of her dress getting dirty and muddled in the damp earth. she could smell in the air that it was going to rain, and yet she walks and walks and walks through the lawn of the mikaelson estate until she reaches the edge, and the air around her wrinkles and gleams, as if trying to force a doorway through.

she... takes a step forward. and another. she goes easily through the barrier - she almost wonders if she'd imagined it.

she's still in the mikaelson estate.

so she keeps walking - until she sees a familiar figure ahead. 

it's klaus.

she gulps. had he come look for her after all, shucking the gentleman and bowing to the monster?

she keeps walking. until she's close enough to see that he's looking a little more dishevelled than he did at the ball. his bowtie was lose around his neck. he'd lost his jacket, and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows. 

he looks at her. the way he's always looked at her.

she breathes in. "you're here too," she says on the exhale.

"enjoy the ball?" he asks, in lieu of a confirmation. he eyes her in the dress. "i almost forgot how lovely you looked, that night. i never knew if you kept the dress."

"i did," caroline laughs, shakily. "deep in the back of my closet, hidden from prying eyes - but not well hidden enough."

a corner of klaus' lips quirk. "tell me."

"my girls found it," caroline shrugs. "and hope wore it to her miss mystic falls pageant."

"did she win?" he asks, hungry for this bit of information about his daughter in the years he was dead, lost to time. 

"of course she did," caroline half-smiles. "she was in the care of lizzie's craftful hands. i raised my daughters in my image. not all - just the good bits."

"i love all your bits," klaus says. he smiles at her, softly, cataloguing how she looks now, in the dress he'd given her years and years ago. "you loved me for far longer than i'd thought, caroline."

caroline, to her credit, doesn't blush. no, she's too much a woman now. denial had lead her nowhere for so many years. "gonna gloat about it now?"

"nah," klaus says, putting his hands in his pockets as they fell into step, into the cold night. 

the grass, almost frozen in the morning dew to come, crunch under their feet. they walk until they reach his lake, because of course the mikaelson estate would have a lake. klaus pulls his hands out of his pockets and offers her his arm, which she takes, and leads her to the bench that overlooks the reflection of the night sky on still, dark waters.

"i wish you'd taken me here instead, that night," caroline says, still in that casual offhand voice she'd adopted since meeting him. "way more romantic."

"i thought you would've been averse to romantic, so soon after we'd met." klaus shrugs. "also, the full force of my courtship would have had you on your knees, caroline. a man has to start slow."

"i thought you would've liked me on my knees," she says impishly, and he nearly falls off the bench.

god, klaus had died and come back to life so many times a creature that just refused to go quietly - and yet with her he's this fumbling bashful boy. she nudged him with his knee, through the many delicate layers of her dress. "how was your trip down memory lane?"

"enlightening," he says mysteriously. she doesn't bother to hide her grin.

"so was mine," she says. "all those times you must have wanted to rip my head off. i was a daring idiot."

"not an idiot," klaus argues. "sure, you could have held your tongue at any point - but you were certainly daring. you bore the brunt of my affections for you like armour. any lesser woman would have crumpled."

she doesn't meet his gaze, but he catches her chin before she can look away. "no, love. none of that, please. we've come so far."

he's pleased when she bites her bottom lip, understanding. he never had to explain herself with her. she was always perceptive, always listening, always deciphering. his clever caroline.

"so has hope," caroline says, and klaus groans quietly. "she's the brightest kid at the school, klaus. she knows her power and knows her limits. she can benchpress the boys under the table," she laughs in recollection, and he can't help but join in, "and you can't do anything about her growing, klaus."

klaus sighs. long and wrought out, and in pain. "i have missed so many of her years."

"what are you going to do, stall her even more? let her miss out on the beauty of aging, with lizzie and josie?" caroline catches his eye. "they've become family, our girls. we are family now - let them grow and know loss."

he's a bit dumbfounded by the wisdom she's displaying but has time to clear his throat and say, rather gruffly like when he's trying to mask awkwardness, "we're not a family. not really. you have alaric, and..."

"and alaric is my business partner, the father to the girls," she says sternly. "alaric is not... you."

it's weird, his gaze has been on hers all along, but it's like he's refocusing, seeing her for the first time. "what are you saying?"

"i'm saying that i didn't just come to new orleans because the girls wanted to spend summer break there." she licks her lips nervously. "i'm saying i came for me, too. it was a really nice holiday, klaus."

"before i bungled everything up, i expect," klaus mutters. caroline laughs a bit. the air around them had slowly warmed as their conversation lengthened, and was sizzling now, lighting up klaus' face in sparks of white and gold. "time to go back, sweetheart."

"you should work on your apology to her," caroline says, taking his arm again, and follows him as he stands and steps right into the middle of their ritual earlier.

lizzie and josie were there, and hope was in the middle of the twins sandwich - freya and bonnie were consulting a grimoire and davina was drawing chalk on the floor. they all looked up and stared at them, jaws dropping.

"looking good, dad," hope says, impressed, then her eyes land on caroline in the dress. "oh my gosh - it looks like it was made for you."

"um, it was hers?" lizzie says, snorting. "can't believe you're on honour roll."

"lizzie," josie chides. she tilts her head at klaus and her mother, looking them up and down, the way her mother’s hand was wrapped loosely in the crook of klaus’ arm, where only hours ago they had determinedly not touched this entire break. "so, weird trip?"

"you could say that," caroline says airily as the air re-seals behind them. "think something like a charles dickens novel."

"cool," hope nods. she looks at her father expectantly. "what have we learned about messing with time, dad?"

"to not do it," klaus concedes grumpily. "now off you go before i lose my mind over that gray hair growing down your temple."

"i do not have grey hair!" hope gasps, affronted, and storms the room, the twins giggling in tow.

"bet you wouldn't mind some slow-aging spells for THAT!" klaus calls after her laughingly, and she must have heard, tribrid senses and all, and mutters something about him might being right.

[unfortunately-inlove]

What would I say if I reached out to you?

I don’t, because I’m scared that it will cause you undue distress or it will crush me into a million pieces again if you react with hostility. And I think waiting for you to see the message and answer it (or not answer it) would give me a stroke tbh. But if I did, what would I say? Would I keep it short and to the point?

“Dear (redacted), please don’t feel pressured to respond to this message if you don’t want to. I don’t want to cause you distress and if hearing from me is upsetting, you don’t need to reply. If you don’t answer I won’t reach out again. I just wanted to say that I think of you often. I wish that we were at peace with each other and that we could simply live on the social media edges of each other’s lives. I hope you love the life you have now. I hope you’re able to remember most of our memories fondly. Be well.”

Or would I tell her everything in one, huge message?

“Hey, it’s me. Don’t feel pressured to respond if you don’t want to. If you don’t answer I won’t reach out again.

I wanted you to know that I think about you often. And I’ve thought a lot about talking to you, but I haven’t up til now because I didn’t want to cause undue pain or distress. I did unblock you on everything just in case you ever wanted to talk to me, though.

I want you to know that I am still so sorry for what I did. I shouldn’t have told Austin. There’s no excuse I can give that ever would make it okay. You know it was never my intention to out you to your father or to school though, and I never wanted to harm you. I was overcome with emotion at the time because I was concerned for your soul because you were becoming wiccan. And Austin saw me crying and he and James and I took a walk, and it came out as one of the reasons I was worried.

I only say all of that as an explanation but not an excuse. I’m older, and less of an idiot, and have more self control. We were both subject to a certain level of religious indoctrination and intolerance and that heavily influenced my actions, of course. But I wasn’t a kid, I was 17 and I shouldn’t have said anything that wasn’t mine to say. Regardless of the beliefs pumped into me from school (and other influences, of course.) Again, just an explanation of my actions but not an excuse. I wish that James had talked to me first before he told you what I did so I could have told you myself instead. I wonder if that would have changed anything, though.

But it took me a long time to realize that that event was just the final nail in the coffin of our friendship, I think. There were a lot of things that I didn’t even remember had happened until we weren’t friends anymore.

You kissed me. New Year’s Eve. Did you have a crush on me? Or did you just kiss me to kiss a woman? You had me and Julianne watch porn with you, on your porch when we were kids. I saw a woman put a lightbulb in her vagina. Your physical boundaries with me were odd, and I never realized it because I loved you and didn’t think anything negative of you. You had me spoon you, when you were cold. Was that platonic?

Towards the end of our friendship (the last year or so) I always got the vibe that you thought I was stupid, or at least not as intelligent as you. I remember confronting you about it once on the phone, and you apologizing and saying it was “a part of you that you didn’t like.” The funny thing is, I actually can’t remember a single instance of you talking down to me. But I remember talking to you about those instances on the phone, so I know they happened. This is how I found out that my brain represses memories that make me upset. That’s why I didn’t talk to you about most of these things; I forgot that they happened. I literally forgot that you kissed me. You were my first kiss, technically.

The things that happened after we split caused me to basically want to kill myself 24/7. You dating Austin when you knew that I loved him. I thought you did it to spite me. Did you really like him? I cried in the school bathroom for hours when he asked you to prom with cooked he had decorated himself.

I also saw the text your mom sent you, on the bus ride to kings island for our senior trip. The one where she told you to ditch me at the trip with a laughing emoji. That really broke my heart. Your mom was like family to me. Did you tell her the truth of what happened? Did her opinion of me change so intensely because of the truth or did you tell her something else?

Talking to your dad in the parking lot before our senior prom. He called me Miss Claire, as he always did, said long time no see, and asked me about my new car. I told him I bought it for 400 dollars from a friend, and he was shook and said that’s what he paid for his first car back when dinosaurs still roamed the earth. Did you tell him we weren’t friends anymore? Did he know?

Honestly, I feel a little bit like you experimented on me from childhood into our teens as you were discovering your sexuality. But I did it to you too in a completely different way. You gave me a sexuality crisis for a long time, haha. So it’s a little unnerving because I had completely forgotten it but I can hardly blame you. But as we got older it just felt like you didn’t like me as much anymore or saw me as an equal.

My life is better now. I went to a lot of therapy and stopped wanting to die. I went to college, dropped out of college, and enrolled in cosmetology school. I made new friends and resparked old ones. Honestly the best thing that came out of our relationship exploding was that I reconnected with two of my best friends from grant county and I see them often now. Courtney comes to spend the night at least 3x a month, except when she goes home for the summer. I joined several dnd groups. I met what I’m pretty sure is the love of my life and we’ve been together for almost two years now, and he’s proposing to me on our 2 year anniversary. Copy cat died in august of 2020. I got two kittens named Winter and Tobi Tangerine. I also fixed my relationship with James too, though we’re not as close as we used to be. I got older. I got less stupid. I tried to make less regrets and keep my mouth shut more. I stopped getting involved in other people’s shit and it’s benefitted me greatly.

Speaking of getting involved in other people’s shit, I did kind of lose my mind after we imploded and I did a lot of stuff to people and poked my nose where it didn’t belong. I anonymously texted Maci’s dad to tell him she regularly drove over 90 in a 55 with her feet on the dash and that I was worried for her safety. She found out because I had to ask trace for his dads number and he ratted me out and she was rightfully pissed at me for being a nosy jackass. She also told me and Becca about how bad she wanted to punch Kelsey in the face, so I told Kelsey she said that and they were both mad at me. I don’t think I would have done this stuff normally but I wasn’t in a good frame of mind and thought I was helping when I really was just ruining the friendships I had left. I figured that out later in therapy tho.

I hope you’re doing well at college. I look at you and your moms Facebook page maybe 2x a year or so, and just think about everything all over again. I saw you got a boyfriend a while ago, and I wish I could have heard you excitedly tell me about it. I wish that if our friendship did end, it would have ended peacefully with us just texting each other less and less until we simply coexisted peacefully on the edges of each’s others lives, occasionally liking each other’s Facebook post. Rather than going out in an explosion of bad decisions and bad feelings.

I hope you’re well. I hope you love the life you have now. I hope you’re at peace with who you are. I hope you’ve forgiven me. It’s ok if you haven’t. I just hope you have.”

[galadrieljones]

writer’s review

tagged by @ma-sulevin and @a-shakespearean-in-paris. thank you! i’ve never done this one before.

I will tag @thevikingwoman @shallow-gravy @littleblue-eyedbirdchirps @roguelioness @pikapeppa and anyone who’d like to do this. Please tag me if you do!!

Rules: Post two snippets of your writing. The first should be one of the oldest examples of your work that you can find (the older the better!), and the other has to be an excerpt from something more recent. Compare the two side by side to see the difference between what your writing looks like now and how it did then.

Since I have way too much old writing from my life, I am just going to stick with my fanfiction. I chose to compare an excerpt from my older Solavellan work The Dead Season (2016) to my current The Last of Us fic As You Were (2020). 

I put this under a cut, as it’s a little long!! 

From The Dead Season - Chapter 8: The Emprise du Lion

For the first three nights, they’d had to camp in a quarry surrounded by the dead lit veins of red lyrium. The lyrium glowed through the fire, illuminating the snow, keeping everyone awake, bandaged and bruised, all four of them piled into the Inquisitor’s tent where nobody wanted to be alone. Death was too nearby, they decided. Things were better together. Exhausted, hardened, dirty, cold to the bone. Drinking warm ale brought in by Scout Harding’s people, gnawing pieces of rabbit Sene had hunted herself and then cooked on a spit. Iron Bull tried entertaining with mad stories from his stranger youth. He and Solas played whole games of chess through the power of memory alone, and Sera braided Sene’s hair, and asked her all kinds of questions about her childhood and her love for the elven man. She told her about Dagna, that the two had started a quiet affair, and she had such stories of Red Jenny and her foreign life as an elf of the city. Sene listened eagerly, all the time, finding Solas with her eyes, and he would give a small touch. Security in a place of death and blood in the snow.

Despite Sene’s dreams, whenever they slept in the Emprise du Lion, Solas held her with serious possession. He slept deeply when he drifted, without stirring, and his arms hardened around her as stone. A carefulness and new severity imbued them, each movement guessed and exchanged as mind-reading. Somehow, it felt new. Sera noticed one morning, as Solas helped Sene into her jacket: “You do that like it’s all you’ve ever done,” she said to him.

“Perhaps it is,” said Solas. “Perhaps each night I help Sene out of her jacket, and then each morning, I help her back in again. Would that shock you?”

“The two of you,” said Sera. “Like green on sky. Eggs on toast.”

“Interesting perspective,” he said.

From As You Were - Chapter 6: La Crosse (Pt. 1) / The Lapp Farm (Pt. 1)

Joel and Noah drove until they hit what looked to be the town. They parked at an O’Reilly’s Auto Parts, hauled their backpacks onto their backs, and loaded their guns. The signs continued, most of them nailed to other kinds of signs: COTHS, they read. C.O.T.H.S.

C O T H S.

La Crosse had never been a big city. Joel didn’t know a lot, but he could gather as much. It wasn’t big, but it was a college town, and that college was big enough to have a football team. It would have been home to a lot of people during the initial Outbreak, probably forty or fifty thousand, and it was probably a metro-hub for these little Driftless, farming towns, too, with a good hospital, warehouses, factories, and some semblance of a retail industry. It would have been a lot of meth, he thought. Maybe not so much in the city proper, but in the outskirts, in the tin cans and the trailer parks. As a city on the banks of the Mississippi, it would have pretty pockets but mostly, it was just franchises and mini-malls, like anything else.

But this was strange, thought Joel. The goddam of it was, it seemed empty. Really empty. Like, god no longer smiled upon this place, as if something evil had given up on this place, gone on its way. There was nothing. Nothing bad, nothing good. Just the trees, and the nature noises, the grasses, which had grown so tall, they engulfed the cars abandoned at the side of the road. There was a McDonalds sign, growing out of a massive, twisted heap of vines and bramble and it made Joel think of small things that still broke his heart from childhood. He pushed it down.

“This is fucking weird,” said Noah. The air smelled ripe in some places. Rotten. Like an overgrowth of mold in the washing machine. “What the fuck is that smell?”

“Something bad happened here,” said Joel.

“Hey, look,” said Noah. He was headed toward another one of the signs. It said: COTHS.       

“Yep, another sign,” said Joel.

“No, look,” said Noah. He got closer. He had to snap a couple saplings to get to it. This sign was on the ground, leaning against a tree. He pushed back the tall grass, and the milkweed to reveal the rest.

Comparison: I settled on these excerpts because they are both descriptions of places and situations that are new to the characters involved. The biggest difference between my writing in 2016 and my writing now, as shown here, is that I have hugely simplified my prose and my approach to descriptive writing. Four years ago, I was still very flowery, and the dark, magical setting of Dragon Age only encouraged my dreamy, expansive sensibility. I used a lot of adjectives, figurative language, and fragments, and I tended to write big, sweeping descriptions of situations, rather than setting simple scenes. Tbh, I hadn’t really figured out scene-writing yet, at that point. It took me a while to realize how to make scenes do a lot of work in a short amount of time. Notice how I barely enter the scene in that first excerpt. It’s vague. It’s all happening at once. There is not really a specific scene being set in a specific setting at a specific time. I try to avoid that sort of thing now. While I don’t hate my old writing, and I think sometimes I do a nice job of hitting on the right atmosphere, my unwillingness to just enter the scene concretely is a little sophomoric and noncommittal here. Setting scenes is actually hard as hell. In doing this, I was avoiding the hard stuff without even realizing.

Now, I will say that while I am still improving, my writing has become much more concrete and to the point. I use figurative language, but I am much more judicious with my metaphors and similes. I prefer realism, it turns out. I want to describe true things, not ideas. Most of what I describe is there to build setting, whether it be through concrete description of place or a character’s actions in a place. Sometimes I will use my language to evoke a certain kind of atmosphere, but I try not to go overboard. I want my language to be practical, not tricky and overblown. I like strong, complete sentences (with the occasional fragment) and descriptions of specific actions and scenes in real time, rather than fragmented, dreamy language or a style that is overly stream-of-consciousness. I still use Free Indirect Style at times, and I will narrate thought, because I like going into my character’s heads, but I now practice much more stoicism. I do not let my readers know too much directly about what my characters are feeling. I find that this is much more true to what I want to evince with my writing. I now try to imply thought and emotion via what my characters do, what they don’t do, what they say, and what they see. Moving away from Solas, a very “talky” and intellectual character has helped me do this. While I love Solas, writing Joel and Arthur really improved me tenfold, as they tend to speak very little. They are not terribly ponderous in all they decide. They choose their words wisely and let their actions speak most of the time, helping me do the same.

In the past, my focus was almost always on language, ideas, and atmosphere. I wanted to evoke bigness at every turn. Drama, beauty, unfolding abstract ideas and feelings made of synesthesia, using my language to elevate simple feelings and ideas into something epic. But now, and maybe it’s just because I’m getting older or I have less time, idk, but I just want things to be what they are. I want to reveal feelings and themes, not evoke them through force. I want the scenes to speak for themselves. I let the reader do a little more work. I withhold much more. In fact, I rarely write interiority these days. Inner-monologue and emotions come sparingly. One sentence here and there. Never in rambling, abstract, unfurling paragraphs, which The Dead Season is full of. I am always reaching for economy now, and efficiency. It is better for me! Though I do play around still, from time to time, with my language. I will always be a little playful.

[haledamage]

Breakfast at Haley’s

A coffee date between two detectives just before the start of Book 2, OR two best friends sit in a cafe and talk about boys. Kira Kingston is mine, Abigail Jenings belongs to @queen-scribbles <3 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CAIT!!! I was going to post this tomorrow for your actual birthday, but my internet’s gonna be down, so have a slightly early present :)

It was late morning, but quiet enough in Haley’s Bakery that Abigail and Kira managed to grab a window table. They sat in companionable silence, watching the town go about its business like nothing had changed, the murders only a couple months ago already fading from collective memory. Only the two women at the table truly knew just how much had changed.

Haley delivered their drinks and pastries before wandering off to take another order, and once she was gone Kira finally broke the silence. “It’s too fucking quiet here now,” she admitted reluctantly.

Abigail grinned, wrapping her hands around her coffee mug to let the warmth seep into her fingers. “Kira Kingston, complainin’ about th’ quiet! Wonders never cease.”

“Oh, sod off, Red,” Kira said, but there was no heat behind it. “You know what I mean.”

“You miss ‘em.” AJ didn’t need to say who ‘they’ were. Neither of them seemed to be able to think about much else besides ‘them.’

“Maybe,” Kira muttered to her lemon scone. “I didn’t say it.”

Abigail chuckled at her friend’s sour tone. “I miss ‘em too. Apartment’s too empty now, with just th’ two of us.” She took a bite of her chocolate chip muffin and glanced subtly around the bakery, making sure no one was close enough to listen in. “Have y’ heard anythin’ since…”

Kira shook her head. “No. Not even from Mum.” She leaned across the table, dropping her voice. “It’s all very suspicious, innit? What do you think they’re up to?”

“Dunno,” Abigail said with a shrug, tugging idly at a loose curl. “They said they’re stayin’ in town, right? T’ keep us safe. So they’ll be back soon.”

“I hope so. Though not as much as you do, I think,” Kira said slyly, taking a sip of her tea to hide her grin as she added, as casually as possible, “So you and Nate, hmm?”

“What?!” AJ sat up so quickly the table wiggled, making her coffee slosh in her mug, though it didn’t quite spill over. Her face turned almost as red as her hair. “How did--what are--did he say somethin’?”

“He didn’t have to. I hope you don’t think you’re being subtle, the way you stare at each other. I can see the little cartoon hearts in your eyes. It’s adorable. And nauseating.” Despite the bite to her words, Kira smiled warmly at Abigail and her clear infatuation. If anyone in the world would ever be good enough for her in Kira’s mind, it would be Nate. Still, someone had to say it and she knew Agent Jenings wouldn’t, so she added, “If he breaks your heart, I’ll kick his arse. Vampire superhealing be damned.”

“He wouldn’t,” AJ said immediately.

“No. But if he does.” Kira nudged the toe of Abigail’s boot with her own. “C’mon, AJ. Spill. You’re dying to talk about him, I know it.”

“Alright, you asked for it.” Abigail chuckled and took a drink of her coffee and then the floodgates opened. “But, I mean, you know him, Kir. He has t’ be th’ sweetest person I’ve ever met. He’s so nice--genuinely nice, not fakin’ or anythin’--t’ darn near ev’ryone I’ve ever seen him meet, an’ he’s so charmin’ and sincere about it. An’ he really cares about people, doesn’t want them hurt. He’s so empathetic, ‘specially with those eyes…” She sighed wistfully, her own dark blue eyes shining. “He has the best eyes, Kira. They’re all warm an’ carin’ an’ the most beautiful brown on God’s green earth, an’ when we’re talkin’ he looks at me like I’m th’ only thing that matters, an’ he makes me feel all special--which no one’s ever done before, not like this.”

Kira nodded encouragingly, though she knew AJ didn’t need encouragement on this particular subject.

Sure enough, she continued, a wide and happy smile spreading over her face as she did. “An’ the looks don’t hurt--you know I like tall guys, an’ those shoulders--but they’re just icin’ on th’ cake. He’s gorgeous an’ strong an’ that plays second fiddle to him bein’ so open and sweet. It’s the kindness an’ compassion an’ deep brown eyes that got me. Oh, an’ his smile. His smile makes me all warm an’ gooey inside, an’ not just ‘cause I’m fallin’ for him harder’n a rotted tree in a storm.” 

She paused long enough to take another drink of her coffee. “It just…. immediately puts you at ease, makes you feel safe, yeah? Safe an’ valued an’ like you have his undivided attention however long you want it. An’ I want it a real long time. He’s just so wonderful, Kir.” She gestured to the huge, giddy grin still on her face. “Can’t stop smilin’ whenever I so much as think of him. An’ I don’t want to, neither.”

Kira chuckled, unable to keep from smiling herself at Abigail’s infectious joy. “Oh, is that all? Don’t hold back on my account,” she teased.

AJ blushed, drawing a random pattern on the tabletop with her finger. “Well, there’s also th’ way he always knows what t’ say when people are mad or upset or other… emotionally fraught situations and checks with me if he thinks he’s makin’ me th’ least bit uncomfortable--he never is--oh, an’ his hands.” She flexed her own fingers almost subconsciously, like she could almost feel Nate’s hand in hers, but she didn’t elaborate further.

Kira was grateful. She hadn’t given much thought to Nate’s hands before, it seemed like a weird time to do so now.

“Wow.” She smirked and made a show of checking the time on her phone. “You sure that’s it, Red? We’ve still got a few minutes before we’re due to be at the station.”

Abigail chuckled, curling her hands around her coffee mug again. “You asked. Twice.” Her sweet, smitten smile turned playful. “An’ now that I’ve let m’ mouth an’ heart run away with me again, your turn, yeah? What about you an’ Adam?”

Kira scoffed, but she blushed at the same time. “Don’t be daft. There’s no me and Adam. He’s made that very goddamn clear. Doesn’t matter what I feel about it, it isn’t up to me.”

“You don’t see the way he looks at you when y’ aren’t lookin’,” AJ said encouragingly, trying to get her normally closed off friend to open up a bit. She knew she needed to, and just as much she knew that it would take a bit of a push for it to happen.

“Well, no, I wouldn’t, would I?” Kira said, a little sharper than she intended. Then, in a tiny voice, speaking more to the table than to her friend, she added, “How… how does he look at me?”

“Th’ same way I look at Nate.”

“Really?” Kira hated how hopeful that single word sounded. She scowled at no one in particular - or at least, no one in the bakery; it wasn’t hard to figure out who she would be scowling at, if he were there. “Ugh. He’s the most pig-headed, arrogant bastard I’ve ever met. I’m glad you shot him. I should have fucking shot him.”

“An’ you’re in love with him,” Abigail said plainly. One of them had to say it.

“And I’m in love with him.” It took a second for the words to sink in, and when they did Kira covered her face with both hands and groaned. "Oh fuck, I am, aren’t I? How do I make it stop?"

Abigail reached across the table to pat Kira on the arm. "I don’t think it works like that."

Kira was quiet for a long time, long enough that AJ started to wonder if she was going to say anything at all, but she waited her out, eating her muffin in silence while she put her thoughts together.

"He’s got the prettiest eyes," Kira muttered all of a sudden, as if the words escaped against her will. But once she started talking, she couldn't seem to stop. "You know wintergreen’s always been my favorite color. I didn’t know eyes came in that color. And have you seen his arms? Those are good arms to have. And his jawline might as well have been chiseled out of marble, just… fucking perfect." She paused, chipping restlessly at her nail polish, leaving a neat pile of black lacquer on her napkin. "And I… feel safe with him. Like nothing bad could happen as long as he’s there. Obviously, that’s not true, if it was, Murphy wouldn’t have… but it still feels that way, you know?"

"It’s just--I’m--he’s--fuck!" She dropped her head onto the table with a dull thud, but only stayed there a second before sitting up again. "When he looks at me, it’s like the rest of the world just disappears. Like it’s just him and me. And sometimes it’s so intense I can barely breathe. Just from him looking at me! If he ever touched me--like, actually touched me, with intention, not just when he’s trying to protect me--I might literally combust." 

She closed her eyes and sighed. "I could live a thousand years and never feel as special as I do when Adam smiles at me." She covered her face again. "Oh god, that’s awful. If I start reciting poetry, hit me with something."

“Y' know I'm not gonna do that,” Abigail chuckled. She bit her lip in an attempt to hold back a smile. “It's not such a bad thing, havin' feelin's for someone. Y' might even like it if y' try.”

“It doesn’t bloody matter anyway, does it? He doesn’t want me. Or he doesn’t want to want me. There was a moment when I thought, maybe…” Kira’s light brown eyes were distant, full of something an awful lot like longing. Then she shook her head, and it was gone, “but nevermind. Whatever. I think he’d be happy if he never saw me again. If he didn’t have me around complicating things for him.”

AJ shook her head. “You don’ believe that, Kir,” she murmured gently.

“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s fine, I’ve accepted it.” Kira combed her fingers through her hair as she slouched down in her chair. “Can we go back to talking about you and Nate? Or, like, fucking absolutely anything else?”

“How ‘bout Felix an’ Mason?” AJ finally unleashed the smile she’d been holding back.

“Felix is great,” Kira said immediately, relieved in the change in subject. “He’s what you’d be if you woke up one day and stopped caring about what people think about you.”

“Funny.” Abigail arched an eyebrow playfully, her grin widening to match it. “I was gonna say the same about you an’ Mason. Y’ even dress alike.”

Kira smirked and rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, I’ve seen him wear at least one red shirt. That’s too much color for me.”

Abigail’s phone beeped and a second later Kira’s buzzed as well. They reached for them in sync. “That’ll be Tina, I s’ppose. Looks like breakfast is over.”

They quickly finished their coffee and tea and pastries. AJ took their empty mugs and plates up to the counter while Kira took their trash to the bin and then Kira held the door for them both as they waved goodbye to Haley and stepped out into the cool morning streets.

Abigail linked her arm into Kira’s as they fell into step together for the walk to the police station. “Thanks for listenin’, Kir.”

“Anytime. Really. You can talk to me about Nate anytime you want, as much as you want.” She squeezed her arm fondly. “I’ll bitch and moan about it, but I won’t mean it. I’m just jealous you won the emotional availability lottery when it comes to hot vampires.”

AJ lit up with a bright smile and an even brighter blush. “I did, didn’t I?” They walked the rest of the way to work in comfortable silence except for occasionally greeting people who said hello as they passed. Only when they arrived at the front door did she draw Kira to a stop, waiting until she met her eyes to gently say, “Y’ know you can talk t’ me about Adam anytime too, yeah?”

“I know.” Kira smiled warmly, then slipped her arm out of Abigail’s to wrest the door open. “But don’t get your hopes up, Red, I doubt there’ll be anything worth talking about.”

Abigail chuckled, her smile knowing as she followed Kira into the station. “We’ll see about that.”